Kazu Makino is a shy bird. While hearing her talk, quiet voiced with cautious pauses...a slight effort to articulate perfectly, it is hard to imagine that this is the same woman who so brilliantly lights up the stage with short teasing dresses, playful hip sways, and a voice that can melt ice bergs. She seems so unbelievably aware and yet unaware at the same time.

She is of course, one third, of the musical anomaly that is Blonde Redhead. Along with twin brothers, Amedeo and Simone Pace, the trio have built an impressive repertoire of avant garde yet accessible indie pop/rock that has grown from obscurity to a devotedly loyal (and large) following. However, despite the current popularity of the band, they remain rooted in simple devotion to each other and a desire to move forward in creativity.

Kazu tells me surprisingly that the band was inadvertently formed after she began taking guitar lessons from Amedeo. Guitar lessons which... didn't work out that well yet resulted in the two establishing the band.

"He wasn't a bad guitar teacher," she admits thoughtfully. "He's just very gifted and doesn't think in a technical way so he's not maybe a good person to teach technique but there's a lot more to learn from him. It also just may be my personality...I hate teachers and rules."

We discuss the band's living situation in New York a bit. Aware of the linearity of the city, I ask her about their practice space. It seems that even a bit of musical accomplishment can't buy decent practice space in New York. She notes that their rehearsal space is extremely cold and jokingly states that it could double for a morgue.

"We have a heater, but you know heaters eat up a lot of electricity. As soon as we put on the heater we have a short circuit so we can't turn it on with all the equipment. It's endless problems," she laughs. "The building people who live upstairs don't want anyone downstairs so they make it really hard for us to be there. We can't use the elevator. When we have a show we have [to take the equipment] down by stairs."

Ah, but what about the perk of having roadies? Isn't that one of the best aspects of achieving some success in music? (Loading your own equipment having to be one of the worst.) But alas, no, the trio load and unload all their own equipment -everywhere.

"It's really cool, we've been playing really big shows. In Europe, we've been getting to play in front of five or ten thousand people...we show up just the three of us, the sound man, maybe the driver and the opening band will have dozens of crew and a huge bus..." she says observing the contrast with a delighted tone in her voice.

However, when I ask if she helps with loading any of Simone's drum equipment -since drummers tend to typically be the last to leave a show - she giggles that she lets him handle his own gear. Fair enough.

From talk of equipment and Europe, we begin to discuss the obvious cultural diversity of the band. Considering the members of Blonde Redhead are one part Japanese, two parts Italian and live in America, I ask what her feelings on living in this country are. She pauses considerately...

"I feel very foreign but I think since September 11th, I feel a little closer to New York..."

Extremely careful not to come across as critical of America, I sense an honesty in her response that is not negative but rather an awe of the disparity between this country and her native Japan.

"I feel like when we go on tour for example, you go through this town that has pretty much the same look one from another with the mall, with the small bookstore, next door to it the Starbucks and next to it the bagel place. I can't imagine what it's like to be from a place like that, to grow up in an environment like that because it's so bleak that the bleakness really shocks me."

Listening to her speak with a Starbucks directly across the street from where I sit, her words seem fitting. She continues,

"It's not as if [when] you have a really rich culture you [automatically] create something good, it's not always like that. Out of nothing, people usually create something incredible." Adding, " I don't know what tends to happen when you grow up [with] surroundings like that . I don't know...I come from a very old, old ancient city. I know what I'm like but I don't know how much that [environment] influenced me or not so I can't say."

I remark that sometimes it is easier to identify with your own culture when you are no longer surrounded by that culture. Americans, with all their multi- nationality and array of beliefs blend with one another while inside the parameters of this country. However, place a group of Americans in say, Europe... and it sometimes seems as if the linings of our clothes have been stitched with the words: Starbucks, Taco Bell, and the word, "dude."

We discuss this awhile and Kazu begins to explain that it is not so much the the strangeness of America that leaves her feeling disconnected somewhat, but rather a lack of feeling connected to any place.

"We've been touring so much, not always in America, I almost feel like I'm not really from anywhere anymore. It's a bit sad because when I go down to see [friends] who are so rooted and so solid, I don't have that kind of strength. It must be nice to have that. it must be nice to go have a meal at your parent's house after practice. That sounds like a dream to me."

Her unabashed openness and the truth of those feelings suddenly make me feel almost guilty for going into this cultural diatribe. So we attempt to switch gears and I ask what her favorite place in New York is:

"I don't have any. I really don't." she laughs. "I like everywhere equally."

I smile as she says this because it seems her answer is a nice Japanese way of not hurting one part of New York's feelings by favoring another. I ask when was the last time she laughed.

"Well, yesterday I was at practice and Amedeo started doing this really silly dirty dancing, I know he would never do it in front of anyone else but us and then Simone starting putting the background music to it, like he was reeeeally into it. I couldn't believe [Amedeo] could do such movement in front of [his] own brother!! I mean, 'cause I would never talk about sex in front of my mom or father, but I guess it's different because I don't have brothers or sisters. He was just doing like this reeeally...craaazy stuff... with the microphone..."

She begins to trail off with laughter while my filthy mind thinks up one million ways you can dirty dance with a microphone.

"It's funny," she adds with a voice wearing a wide smile "because he acts really elegant in front of people, I couldn't believe he could act so different! I wasn't doing anything but looking at them and laughing for like fifteen minutes."

We begin to talk about the three of them as a unit and Kazu states without hesitation that they are like her family. I can't help but quip that Amedeo isn't exactly like her brother...considering he is her boyfriend. She laughs and sweetly concedes,

"No, he is my everything."

When asked how Amedeo and Simone have affected her as a person, she deadpans,

"I have become really cheap! They have a very good sense of money and I wasn't like that at all. Now I'm frantically cheap because i don't know where to start!"

Following this, it seems time to wind up. The most adorable thing about Kazu perhaps is her response when told we can finally stop the tape,

"Good!" she exclaims with an eager, playful tone.

She isn't being rude or snide, simply pleased that she doesn't have to talk any more. It is a darling quality. While most artists have no problem chatting for hours and hours on end about every banal part of their life, one thing is certain, the members of Blonde Redhead would much rather be creating music and living their lives than simply talking about it. Not such a bad idea.