Issue #21: Who Are the Zoomgals?
Issue #21: Who Are the Zoomgals?
Getting to know the exciting rap supergroup Zoomgals, the legacy of '90s idol group SPEED and the impact of karaoke culture
Hi! Welcome to This Side of Japan, a newsletter about Japanese music, new and old. You can check out previous issues here.
Arama! Japan recently put out a fun podcast discussing J-pop’s new female soloists, their appeal, and how they compare to the solo acts of the decades past. They talked in depth about the singer-songwriter sensation Aimyon, who the Japanese music media have been constantly covering since 2018’s “Marigold,” and how her candid lyrics keep drawing people across generations. But another big, essential factor they noted that has helped pushed her—as well as Japanese artists in general—to the mainstream is how her songs have also become successes in karaoke boxes.
Karaoke culture has been embedded deep in Japanese life since the breakthrough of karaoke boxes during the late ‘80s. It’s a recreational activity to do among friends—or solo, with the advent of rooms for one—but it’s also a popular social icebreaker among co-workers; as Tim mentioned in the podcast, you might find yourself having to go out and sing songs out of work obligation. With the activity being so popular, and a mass group of people constantly requesting music to the karaoke systems akin to radio, it makes commercial sense to dedicate a separate music chart to track the performance of a pop record in that environment.
Karaoke helps introduce pop records, new and old, to people’s lives, but it also influences how the common people interact with popular music. They aren’t just listening to songs but also singing them, really feeling out the mechanics like hooks, choruses and that one quirky or bittersweet standout lyric. They might go on about their daily lives listening to music solely based on how memorable it was to sing them. It teaches them how social context changes how songs perform as well. The Arama! folks point out how awkward it might be to sing some idol lyrics in front of your co-workers or how singing simply helps one realize the silliness of some hooks that wasn’t so detectable just listening to it.
True, songwriters often go with sillier, seemingly questionable word choices for the sake of memorability, but karaoke helps illustrate how some lyrics are compromised during the songwriting process to better it’s sing-ability. Often times, a pop song gains power and new dimensions once you sing them. It’s another process internalizing some of the sad or personal lyrics out there when you actually verbalize them. And some hooks, as dumb as they can be, are just damn fun to sing—especially in unison under the influence of some kind of communal high. Karaoke boxes are an amazing venue to observe and experience these thrills firsthand.
Songwriters are commercially swayed by karaoke culture so the songs they write will perform well in karaoke boxes, engineering them with tricks and grand sweeps for the everyday singers to latch on to. More requests mean more visibility but also more money. With accessibility more as a priority, though, it becomes more of an incentive for many hits to faithfully follow the conventional J-pop structure of A melo, B melo, sabi—similar to verse, pre-chorus, chorus. Songwriters can mess around with melody and hooks, but they should perhaps refrain from complicating the general course of a song so newcomers can easily find their footing.
Creatively constraining as that could seem for songwriters, the karaoke-influenced songwriting process provides a valuable learning experience for the amateur singers. With so much of karaoke hits following relatively the same course, the singer can retain muscle memory of the basic pop song structure as they grasp around trying to get familiar with a song they’ve only heard about from their acquaintance. They may not be able to name which part of the song is the B melo, but they can learn to not only identify what a particular section is doing—this part is preparing me for the big chorus! This part of the narrative is priming me for the big emotional confession!—but also recognize how much the pass-off from point A to point B is so satisfying.
Media offshoots of this phenomenon of karaoke culture encourages an even more detailed articulation of these experiences. I learned about A melo, B melo, and sabi thanks to variety shows that had contestants see if they can fully sing a popular song without looking at the lyrics; the full lyric sheet was provided on screen with each section actually identified. When music variety shows like KanJam break down why a song is so well made, they explore its structure and sing-ability with the sections of the song annotated. But even if you don’t understand the jargon, many shows often have music-fantatic entertainers sharing simple comments, like how the chorus is good because of this lyric or how it moves the narrative of the song along. The daily-life appreciation of the craft extends from the box to the TV screen and then back into the box after gaining more appreciation for what you’re singing.
While karaoke places attention to the technical aspect of the songwriting craft, the side of music appreciation driven by the emotional and the personal of course is just as central. I love watching the YouTube channel of karaoke-box chain DAM where musicians talk about their karaoke playlists and why they like to pick each song. “My mom played me this when I was young, and so I like to sing it now,” one would share; “this song always gets the party going,” another would say. Many elements from the technical to the emotional go into why we like to not only play but also sing a pop song. Karaoke culture provides an outlet to explore those many facets.
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There is no Album of the Week for this issue. Well, you can also say there are several albums to check out. In lieu of an album review, I present you an artist feature covering some of my favorite rappers in Japan. I hope you enjoy. Singles Club and our Oricon time travel resume as usual. Happy listening!
Zoom in on My Face: Who Are the Zoomgals?
Looking back at the early spring of 2020 will likely bring memories of the many efforts by musicians to make use of the stay-at-home period. While Gen Hoshino’s “Dancing Inside” will be the best remembered single for going viral as a meme, the rap posse cut “Zoom” by rappers Valknee, Haruko Tajima, Namichie, ASOBOiSM, Marukido and Akko Gorilla takes the top spot for the best new track inspired by the quarantine. The song may be lacking in innovation—remove the circumstance and the music video inspired by the titular video-chat app, and it’s simply six rappers passing the mic—but it delivers quality with each artist bringing their A-game.
“Zoom” is the ideal of a rap cypher with each rapper clearly showcased while none of them overlap with another in style. It’s a surprising feat how each remain very distinct considering all of the colorful personalities involved. Some of the six have been rising acts in Japan’s hip-hop and underground pop scenes for a minute; a couple names are already well-known in their respective scenes. Considering that the track marks the first time that most of them have worked on music together, it’s a delight to also see them with good chemistry on and off record.
The Zoomgals, as they’ve now called themselves, still seem to be in the process of getting to know each other. “Why I didn’t have them feature on a song before had to do with the worry of collaborating with another person who works in another separate direction,” Valknee said to Spincoaster in July. “But after COVID, I thought might as well do something with a lot of people. That’s how it started, so I feel like with them there’s still a lot to go.”
While the Zoomgals figure each other out, it’s a fine opportunity to get to know each of the six rappers involved. If nothing else, “Zoom” is a crash course on some of the most exciting names in Japanese rap. Here are introductions to the members of Zoomgals.
Listen to a Spotify playlist for this feature here.
Valknee
Since Valknee was last featured by this newsletter, she put out a new EP, Diary, that head into yet another different direction than her previous projects. Her past songs, like “Asiangal” and “Nuna,” flaunted a flashy persona on an equally aggressive trap beat. When the track dug into more of her daily life, like the anti-9-to-5 anthem “The Greatest S.S.S. of Life,” her gyaru-like drawl still drew out a strong sense a character. Her voice could be heard even on a song for someone else, such as her contribution for rap idols Lyrical School.
Like the title suggests, Diary reveals more of what goes on behind the scenes for Valknee. If she’s not writings raps about showing off swagger for idols, she’s obsessing over idols herself as uncovered in “Super Kawaii Oshi.” “For him, make money, it’s not bad at all,” she raps over a fuzzy, dreamy beat. The other songs are softer affairs with the production taking cues from bedroom pop than trap—well-fitting for music from a member of a group named Zoomgals.
Recommended Listening: “Super Kawaii Oshi” from Diary (2020)
Haruko Tajima
Haruko Tajima has repped the title “new wave gyaru” since she came up with the tag back in 2018 in promotion for her third full-length, Holy Holy Holy Holy. That description fits her spot-on with her sporting bright hair, flamboyant clothing and a collection of accessories whether she’s rapping over quirky trap beats or blogging over at Nylon. But it also suits her pop work before her switch into rap, the “new wave” pointing more to the synthesizers providing the foundations of her early albums, Bouryoku and Harukonium.
Tajima hasn’t abandoned those pop works entirely. The experiments in voice found in those albums still inform her Auto-Tune-filtered raps which are prone to abruptly go up notches in pitch for emphasis. Though, the “new wave gyaru” tag as it stands now has definitely given her music a more defined purpose, best observed in her latest album, Kawaiiresist. Rap becomes a great pop vehicle for her to confront topics like self-image and beauty standards but also a format for her more silly ideas, so you get a post-Migos track like “Chifure Gang” dedicated to the titular budget beauty product: “I can’t transform if I don’t have any money? / fuck that, give me a break,” she raps while flaunting her 300-yen lip stick. Tajima walks between the cliche talks of glitter and gold, indulging in it but also flipping the script.
Recommended Listening: “Chifure Gang” from Kawaiiresist (2019)
Read about the rest of the Zoomgals here.
Singles Club
“Hot in the Night” by Ako [Londog]
Ako had been uploading fascinating tracks on YouTube all year long, and all of them finally saw official release via her debut EP, Misty Expression, in late September. Like the rest of the tracks on that record, “Hot in the Night” makes it hard to distinguish where one style ends and another begins. A mesmerizing trip-hop loop immediately captures attention while Ako then adapts the beats to propel her buzzing alt-rock chorus. The genre-blending results in a track that’s as ethereal and hallucinatory as laying awake during the unbearable summer heat. The singer-songwriter’s impressionistic lyrics about unrequited desire only intensifies the experience, like you’re sinking deep into her fantasies.
Misty Experience EP is out now. Listen to it on Spotify.
See also: “One Room Story” by Melco; “Aratte” by Shioiri Fuyuko
“Departure” by Low Vision [Hi Liberate]
Low Vision recently ceased operations after almost 20 years in the hardcore scene, but at least they’ve left with a full album, Stand Against, as a parting gift. “Departure” from the 10-track record sets the mood for the final ride before the four piece launches into speedy fury like “Draw” and “No Sexism.” The band kicks off the celebration with a groovy riff but not before breaking down into recklessness in the classic hardcore tradition. “Everything / right here,” frontman Masa screams like he’s commanding the crowd to gather all of their energy—he’s just getting started to bring that final rush.
Stand Against is out now. Preview/purchase it on Bandcamp.
See also: “Fascination” by Crash Syndrom; “Autoimmune Rheumatic Disease Bouquet” by Pharmacist
“Mirrors” ft. Sumin, Daichi Yamamoto & Chinza Dopeness by STUTS [Atik Sounds / Space Shower Music]
Rappers Daichi Yamamoto and Chinza Dopeness reside relatively close to the circle of hip-hop beatmaker STUTS. In fact, the two already have worked with the producer for his 2018 album, Eutopia. But it was a delightful surprise to see South Korean artist Sumin as an invited guest for his new album, Contrast. She handles chorus duty for this collaboration, singing ambivalent lyrics that match the rappers, who recite naval-gazing bars that deal with inner frustrations of their own. STUTS provide the balmy yet slightly unsettling music that lulls like a dim tropical house beat glimmering late at night.
Contrast is out now. Listen to it on Spotify.
See also: “Imademomada (Remix)” ft. Kenny & Micro by Jazee Minor; “Rinkai Line” ft. Maizel, Spada, Hideyoshi & Night Flow Mike by Young Dalu
This Week in 1997…
“White Love” by Speed [Toy’s Factory, 1997]
No. 1 during the week of Oct. 27 and Nov. 10, 1997 | Listen to it on Spotify
The four girls of Speed made such an impact during their short time together during the late ‘90s that millennial musicians often refer to themselves as part of “the Speed generation” to indicate what exact acts were popular growing up. Perfume, for example, were 9 years old when “White Love” came out, and the three frequently share how the girl group inspired them as kids to essentially pursue music. A favorite Speed-related story of theirs is A-chan sharing how her and her classmates would pretend-play as Speed and constantly fight over who gets to be Hiro, or Hiroko Shimabukuro, one of the two main vocalists.
How could young kids not want to be Speed during their peak? Sure, they may have already been exposed to Namie Amuro and MAX, both alumna of the same Okinawa Actor’s talent school that also produced Speed. Other powerful pop vocalists playing with R&B were on the rise during the latter half of the ‘90s. But they were a band of barely-teenagers; Hiro was the youngest, 13 years old when they debuted with “Body & Soul.” And their initial string of hits, later included in their first album, Starting Over, was all about trying to become the best self as they went through many changes of their own. Delivered by such a powerful set of voices, the group sounded invincible and so certain about what they set their hearts on. That self-determination made Speed a band of teen idols for other soon-to-be teenagers to model themselves after.
All that said, “White Love” channels a different Speed, shifting their focus from their own life to completely devoting themselves to another. The four already touched on love somewhat in the album of cuts of Starting Over, but songs like “Luv Vibration” and “Kiwi Love” sang about it more in the abstract. Here, they’ve found an actual person that defines the very feeling, and they are fully head over heels. The girls describe it as though they set eyes on a holy angel: “A white love that came down from the winter stars,” they begin the first verse. Their devotion blurs almost into the religious, and the church bells and gospel choirs accenting the post-New Jack Swing music only makes the heavenly presence feel more literal.
Tender as they sound, Speed don’t appear soft or vulnerable in the face of love. The adults hand them a set of lyrics with language a bit beyond their years, though it only makes them sound more certain and connected with their inner emotions. Their voices sound as invincible as their songs about self-realization, limitless in power as the divine skies they sing about—and boy, do they let that chorus soar. With this much emotion poured over in the song, the other person almost becomes besides the fact. But it’s only fitting for a single about first love, where what’s more important is that process of discovering this feeling of love itself.
Starting from “White Love,” all three singles from Speed’s second album, Rise, went number one, and their later singles only fell into second place before the group disbanded in 2000. It’s almost unbelievable that a girl group with that much success and impact was active for not even five years. Each of the girls tried solo careers, diving into various styles of R&B, though their original group’s success proved too huge to surpass. Speed’s presence was fleeting as their years, but during the time they were around, they looked invincible as they embodied the intensity of teenage feelings.
Next issue is out October 28. You can check out previous issues here.
Need to contact? You can find me on Twitter or I can be reached at ryomiyauchi@gmail.com