Punk music was born out of necessity, stripping away the excess and eschewing the cleaner mainstream image that had begun to infect the rock ‘n roll scene of the 70s. By contrast, punk was rawer and more rebellious. It encouraged a DIY ethic and authentic nature. Be yourself, or be somewhere else.
Much as punk challenged the status quo of music at the time, certain wrestling promotions and styles grow in defiance of established norms of the pro wrestling scene; Deathmatch wrestling grew to stain the mat of traditional wrestling and ECW stuck a middle finger up at the sanitised mainstream television wrestling of the mid 90s. In 2023, Baka Gaijin + Friends dares you to imagine wrestling beyond the confines presented by nearly every other promotion.
Baka Gaijin is punk rock wrestling. It values expression, creativity and that DIY spirit. It defies established conventions, embracing instead the spirit of performance and wrestling.
What’s one of the first things you need when putting on a wrestling show? A wrestling ring probably comes to mind, because that’s where a match takes place. The much vaunted squared circle.
WRONG. You don’t need a wrestling ring to have a wrestling show. Just lay down some mats on the floor, that’ll do. Don’t have a ring announcer because the promoter (not looking at you Chris) forgot to organise one? That’s ok, just pluck random people out from the crowd and give them a microphone. Should you leave some space between the action for the fans so they aren’t in immediate danger at all times? Nah, they’ll get out of the way.
Everything about a Baka Gaijin show highlights that punk mentality.
The shows take place in a bar bleeding with personality, situated in the Shimokitazawa neighbourhood of Tokyo; an area filled with vintage clothing stores, small music venues and fringe theatres. Eager fans are packed into whatever space they can find while shows are broadcast live on a single camera for anyone keen to watch (while hoping not to get copyright struck by Youtube). Each event is later enshrined in one of the true DIY arts: the zine.
As is the case for many pubs in Tokyo, space is a luxury. Especially when trying to cram as many excited patrons in as possible. As a result the dedicated wrestling space is comically small, taking place on a series of tiny mats that overall measures to be one Mei Suruga long by one Chie Koishikawa wide (this was the official measurement given on the first episode).
This is where the beauty of Baka Gaijin shines however: limitation breeds creativity.
To compensate for the small mat size, the performers look beyond the immediate fringes. The bar itself becomes a place where performers can jump off for a big move, providing they avoid the chandelier. The horizontal pole hanging from the roof directly above the mat can be used to hang opponents off of or to give some extra height on a senton bomb. Wrestlers have caught the lift down to the streets of Shimokitazawa to fight, or taken to performing submissions on the glass roof above.
It all might sound a bit gimmicky – and it is, as you would expect from any show that regularly books Deathworm – but it’s not at the sacrifice of putting on an entertaining show. If all Baka Gaijin had was its gimmick, the novelty would wear off quickly. Instead, it uses its uniqueness and charm to enhance the performance. These are legitimate wrestlers: champions, tournament winners, up and coming stars, savvy veterans, top tier technicians and yes…giant Deathworms.
The wrestlers use the space according to their style. In Volume Five, Masa Takanashi and Drew Parker proved you could put on a back and forth technical clinic as they exchanged holds in their confined space. Fans are so close to the action they can practically feel their own bones shaking as Maya Yukihi rained down thunderous strikes on Chris Brookes during Volume Three. Chairs are borrowed from the audience, and somehow even ladder spots have been pulled off despite the ladder itself nearly touching the ceiling. They even manage to make tag matches work.
These aren’t performers whose only hope of getting booked is in questionable locations like a bar that laid out a couple of mats. These are men and women who choose to express themselves and their craft in new and unique ways. Be it through comedy, technique or balls to the walls action.
Key Baka figure Drew Parker perhaps embraces this notion better than anyone, having made his name in Japan through deathmatch wrestling for Big Japan Wrestling. Deathmatch is another genre with two types of people: those who have to do it because its the only way they can get on a show and those who choose to because they want to. Drew was the latter, proving himself as one of the best on the scene in that field before deciding to move on from the style earlier this year. He can walk the path he chooses, Baka Gaijin happens to be the road he is travelling.
Baka Gaijin wears its influences on its sleeves, and not just in the sense of punk music. The first two Baka Gaijin + Friends shows were live streamed on the Gatoh Move YouTube channel, and they share a lot of similarities with one of the many houses Emi Sakura built. The mat in place of a ring, fans right at the edge of the action, that DIY ethos that helps it thrive in its authenticity. The two shows share many wrestlers, Chris Brookes himself is one of the key recurring faces at Ichigaya Square.
While ChocoPro is bright and colourful, bringing an almost bubblegum pop sentiment to the frame, Baka Gaijin leans more into the dirty and grimy aesthetic.
The sky blue walls of Ichigaya are replaced with low lighting, a wooden fireplace, backdrop banners with skulls and a fully stocked bar. The violence is ramped up; weapons like skewers have been used, the bumps tend to be crazier and the risk taking higher. MAO would work perfectly fine in Ichigaya, but he seems more at home in Shimokitazawa. Others like Masashi Takeda would only seem right in this world. ChocoPro is pop punk, Baka Gaijin is hardcore.
It takes the inspiration of innovation and ring-less wrestling from Gatoh Move, Brookes’ experience in the British scene, the wild unpredictability from DDT (and the Self Produce shows he ran for them upon joining the company) and his own personal interests and taste. Mix it together and you get Baka Gaijin + Friends. Wild, eccentric, exciting, fun and a hell of an experience.
That personal taste is apparent from the moment you see Chris Brookes. The love of punk and its way of being runs through his veins. One look at him as he walks out to the ring (or mat) and you can see the influence, from the aesthetic of studded jackets and Death By Roll-Up merch that is often covered in obscure and random references, to the general way he carries himself. Punk speaks to him, it speaks to others, so why not bring that into wrestling?
It’s what makes Baka Gaijin work. Any big company could try to emulate the show, but it wouldn’t feel the same. Just like in the music industry, a big label trying to mimic underground garage vibes just comes across as inauthentic and fake by comparison to a couple of creative people with a wild idea.
The brand is still very much in its infancy, debuting in December 2022 and currently with five shows under its studded belt. While it won’t be challenging WWE on the viewership ratings anytime soon, that was never the intention. It’s a platform for expression. For the wrestlers to demonstrate not only their skill but also their creativity and ingenuity. For Brookes, it’s a chance to craft his own vision – as a booker, as a designer, as a creator.
Do It Yourself. That’s what Baka Gaijin is. And to its small but growing fanbase, it speaks to them. Much like a kid decades ago blasting Black Flag on the bootleg tape he managed to get. This is for those who like their wrestling without borders.
Wrestle Inn 