(Flipped) Issue #60: Breathe
(Flipped) Issue #60: Breathe
For the last issue of 2022, we go deep on the music of Lily Chou-Chou, plus guest selections as well as a review of Hinatazaka46's latest number-one
Hi! Welcome to This Side of Japan, a newsletter about Japanese music, new and old! This issue is a Flipped edition, meaning we’re doing the opposite of the original format: we cover an older album and three older singles plus the newest entry in the Oricon. You can check out previous issues of the newsletter here.
Welcome to the last issue of This Side of Japan for 2022! The newsletter exits another great year with a Flipped edition, and the main album selection here is a cult favorite by an artist I had a lot of fun doing research for. As per tradition with Flipped issues, I am also very excited to have guest writers from the music newsletter Tone Glow (where I also contribute for) to share some older Japanese songs for the Singles Club section. Enjoy the last issue of the year, and see you back next month as we roll out our year-end issues!
Happy listening!
Album of the Week
Kokyuu by Lily Chou-Chou [Toshiba EMI, 2001]
*Recommended track: “Glide” | Listen to it on Spotify
In the spring of 2000, an internet community formed around the music of singer Lily Chou-Chou in the message boards of fan site Lilyphilia. Among chatters about their idol’s history or her recent interviews, fans wrote at length about what they felt from from listening to her music, with some relaying their experiences as though they underwent a spiritual cleansing. “A permeating image of pain fills the gaps of serotonin,” one fan wrote; “The Ether heals my pain,” explained another. Many used “the Ether” within the fandom to refer to a kind of healing power channeled through her music—“a place of eternal peace, that’s the Ether,” one wrote in Lilyholic—and the term doubled as a secret handshake among those in the know about the culture surrounding Lily Chou-Chou.
When a fan in the message board asked whose music also has the Ether, names like Bjork and UA came up. Those two artists, though, share more a spiritual kinship with Lily Chou-Chou than a musical one, particularly through their enigmatic on-record personalities but also the emotionally raw qualities of their output. Listening to Chou-Chou's sole full-length, Kokyuu, other singers come to mind more in connection to the intent than sound. The vocalist's haunting wails in “Ai No Jikken,” but also the song’s eerie cobwebbed blues, echo Beth Gibbons from Portishead. The skyward guitars and circling drums in tracks like “Erotic” and “Tobenai Tsubasa” tiptoe into the guitar-centric ends of dream pop like slowcore and shoegaze. Chou-Chou prioritizing emotion ahead of meaning while she sings her lyrics reminds of the approach taken by Elizabeth Frasier of Cocteau Twins.
Another inevitable name to be posted by a Lilyholic user in response to the question of who has the Ether was Shiina Ringo. But while both singer-songwriters wail out vulnerable lyrics exploring their inner troubled psyche, Chou-Chou’s music hardly wears the kind of anguish felt in the acidic punk of the former’s Shoso Strip released in 2000. The dream pop made by Chou-Chou in comparison feels weightless and boundless, free from the tethers of life. For all the intense devotion poured by her most dedicated followers to finely understand her music, Kokyuu sounds opaque than it does oblique, not so much a puzzle as a pool reflecting exactly the serenity a tortured heart craves.
If Kokyuu presents more a silhouette of an artist, that’s part of the design. Lily Chou-Chou is actually a fictional artist who first played central to an experimental internet novel by film director Shunji Iwai where the story unfolded within the message board of Lilyphilia. Iwai recruited producer Takeshi Kobayashi to create the music of Lily Chou-Chou, and the users of Lilyholic would respond in real time to the new singles being released as the plot also moves forward. Iwai later adapted the user interactions as well as the narrative developments in his novel as part of his 2001 film All About Lily Chou-Chou, and a week after the film’s premiere, he and Kobayashi released Kokyuu.
The context behind Kokyuu as a piece associated with a work of fiction can shape the songs into a conceptualization of music, like how one would imagine a song before one actually hears it based on a rhapsodizing blurb of it. The sincerity behind Lily Chou-Chou as a project in particular comes to question as it holds up in retrospect as the soundtrack of a film such as All About Lily Chou-Chou. The songs in Kokyuu not only play alongside a movie full of scenes depicting violence and emotional trauma, but they are referred by the on-screen characters as a salve from them: an iconic scene finds the film’s teen protagonist and Lilyholic’s founder Yuichi walking in a vast field with his headphones on, lost in the music of Chou-Chou's latest single. As Iwai and Kobayashi build a convincing portrait of an elusive singer-songwriter, many musical gestures can feel like shorthand to conjure the very stereotypical moods and personality associated with this kind of artist.
The production process of Kokyuu assures some of the creative decisions came together organically, and in particular how the singer cast as Lily Chou-Chou chose to express herself. “I wanted to get sound out like I was playing a wind instrument,” explained Salyu, the then-17-year-old vocalist behind the character. “I cared a lot about things like, which vowel should I stretch to make the melody sound richer?” Salyu’s chosen approach to the sound and texture of the words over the actual meaning results in a hypnotic pop track like “Arabesque,” where attempting to decipher the lyrics almost distracts from the entrancing listening experience. Even when words are audible in a song like “Erotic,” the how matters more than the what as Salyu attempts to reach for something beyond language to convey her intense emotions.
Iwai may have had a specific vision for Lily Chou-Chou, the person, but Salyu plays essential in defining the personality of the titular project. Her vocals uplift the most contemporary pop production in Kokyuu, channeling the character's mystique in a straightforward piano pop like “Kyoumei ~Kuukyo Na Ishi~.” The music of “Glide” isn't so far removed from the Beatles-esque ballads of Mr.Children, and yet Salyu transforms it to a kind of out-of-body dream-pop as she spins the elementary lyrics into sweet nothings: “I wanna be just like a melody, just like a simple sound,” she sighs the refrain, and her ethereal voice invites infinite interpretations out of the simple verses.
Kokyuu didn't become a chart-topping hit like YEN TOWN BAND, Iwai and Kobayashi's previous shot at a fictional band associated with the former’s film. Both the music and Lily Chou-Chou herself, however, followed a similar fate as they existed in their respective work of fiction, eventually becoming cult classics in their own right. Salyu continued to work with Kobayashi but now recording under her own name while Iwai reached out to the producer for the music of 2020’s Last Letter, though the three have yet to convene for new Lily Chou-Chou material. Leaving the project dormant stays true to the fiction in a way: Chou-Chou steps away from the spotlight after what the fans named the Quatre incident, where a fan had been fatally stabbed after her concert in Shibuya. The elliptical arc suits the music, drawing deep intrigue from its vastly open-ended denouement.
Further Breathing
Along with a re-watch of Shunji Iwai’s All About Lily Chou-Chou—surprisingly not as brutal as my first time—I listened to a selection of musicians falling in the orbit of the Lily Chou-Chou project as research for the review. As you will see, all of the explored artists are connected by producer Takeshi Kobayashi. Though they share somewhat minor similarities to the songs of Kokyuu, the chosen records here still carry echoes of certain tones, influences or sensibilities. If nothing else, this should be a fine introduction into the work of Kobayashi. Here are some further recommendations after listening to Kokyuu.
An Unlikely Sibling: Big Brother
“Owarimonaki Tabi” by Mr.Children [Toy’s Factory, 1998]
…from DISCOVERY (1999)
Aside from his collaboration with director Shunji Iwai, Takeshi Kobayashi’s biggest success is his work as the producer of Mr.Children from the band’s beginning in 1990 to 2015. The band’s reputation as one of the most visible and beloved pop acts in J-pop history sets Mr.Children as a polar opposite from the more decidedly enigmatic image of Lily Chou-Chou. But given that both share a producer in Kobayashi, a few common influences can be picked up from each act, mainly an affection for the Beatles and their peers in ‘60s Britrock. While it might be a task to separate the music from the nasally (and often imitated) vocals of frontman Kazutoshi Sakurai, the ringing guitars and elegiac string arrangements in Mr.Children’s “Owarimonaki Tabi” sounds the closest in tone to some of the sounds that reside in Kokyuu.
An Unlikely Sibling: Big Sister
evergreen by My Little Lover [Toy’s Factory, 1995]
*Recommended track: “Man & Woman” | Listen to it on Spotify
Kobayashi’s own band My Little Lover with singer akko is a much lighter pop affair than the melancholy of Lily Chou-Chou as they embraced sweet jangle pop for their main sound. Their debut double-A side, “Man & Woman” and “My Painting,” rocks classic girl-group melodies as well as sentimental guitars and horn charts, arranging the parts into a style that doesn’t feel too distant in spirit from the crate-diggers hanging out in the Shibuya-kei scene. Evergreen, though, showcases Kobayashi’s nostalgia-driven taste—not without the Britpop worship that frankly sounds like a leftover from Mr.Children—that carry over to his imaginary bands featured in Iwai’s films.
Into the Cinematic Universe
Montage by YEN TOWN BAND [Epic, 1996]
*Recommended track: “Shanghai Baby” | Listen to it on Spotify
Before Lily Chou-Chou, Iwai and Kobayashi produced the fictional rock group YEN TOWN BAND for the former’s Swallowtail Butterfly. While the band served as a less central entity in the story of its respective film than Lily Chou-Chou did for hers, they yielded an actual real-life hit out of their debut album, Montage, as well as its lead single “Swallowtail Butterfly ~Ai No Uta~,”1 both ranking number one in its respective Oricon weekly charts. Musically, YEN TOWN BAND embrace a similar classic pop and blues as observed in Kobayashi’s projects, but they spin it into a more scrappy house-band sound partly informed by the environment in which the on-screen version of the band hails from.
Following the Voice
landmark by Salyu [Toy’s Factory, 2005]
*Recommended track: “landmark” | Listen to it on Spotify
Salyu’s smoky voice defines her music under her own name as it did for the songs of Lily Chou-Chou, but she comes off as a much less elusive personality in her debut album, landmark, than the faceless singer of Kokyuu. Kobayashi arranges a more contemporary production, for one, bringing that once-ethereal voice down to earth. Salyu also strays away a bit from the language-as-texture approach to lyrics, which results in a solid, formal pop performance than the suggestive exploration of emotion taken as Lily Chou-Chou. While landmark doesn’t embody as much artful mystique as Kokyuu, it finds Salyu as a more free and expressive vocalist.
Singles Club
This issue’s Singles Club welcomes two guest writers from the experimental music newsletter Tone Glow, where I am also a contributor for. I’m very excited to have them on to share music that I honestly didn’t even know about before they showed them to me for their blurbs here. Happy listening!
“X Game” by Tokyo Karankoron [Buddy, 2011]
If you’re familiar with Tokyo Karankoron, there’s a good chance that the ending credits from 2015’s Food Wars! introduced you to the band’s delicate balance of dissonance and maximalist pop indulgence—the perfect coda to an off-beat anime series about haute cuisine and molecular gastronomy. The band’s best songs sound meticulous yet unstable as if a single misplaced note could cause a deadly chemical reaction in the studio. While the aforementioned theme song “Spice” ranks among the band’s best singles, their earlier body of work released in the early 2010s is where you’ll find their most tightly-wound, dynamic songwriting.
“X Game,” the lead single from their 2013 sophomore LP We Are Tokyo Karankoron, uses the pastel palette of late post-punk revivalism as a springboard for acrobatic experimentation. Proggy rhythm guitar weaves in and out of key in a state of joyful delirium. A simple organ melody lilts like it’s soundtracking a carousel. Forced laughter serves as backing vocals for the song’s verses. It’s disorienting in the best way, like running a dizzy bat race, collapsing in a heap as the band’s rhythm section tightens to a parade march for the chorus. —Jude Noel
…from We Are Tokyo Karankoron (2013)
See also: “Mono-Winged (question mark)” by Miyauchi Yuri & SiN (2012); “Tokyo City Underground” by PASSEPIED (2014)
Jude’s writing has also appeared on Pitchfork and Bandcamp. You can follow him on Twitter.
“Dance Wa Sunda” by Sadistic Mika Band [Doughnut, 1973]
Rock music in Japan in the early 1970s was in an interesting place. The burgeoning psych-rock scene was churning up energy, but the folk-singer boom had blunted the electric edge of most rock bands for the past few years, especially those with ambition for popular appeal. Enter the Sadistic Mika Band. Inspired by the glam-rock bands he had seen while briefly living in London, Kazuhiko Sato recruited a band and formed his own label, the first private record label in Japan, to release the music. In the band was young Yukihiro Takahashi, then only 21 years old but already prodigiously talented and experienced as a session player.
Every instrument, but especially the vocals, on “Dansu Wa Sunda” was recorded and mixed as hot and dirty as possible. Vocals that pushed so hard that they started clipping were not an uncommon occurrence in enka ballads and such at the time, but this clearly deliberate distortion of the vocals here makes the energy practically leap out of the speakers at you. Like most working in the idiom, the structure and style is recycled from Chuck Berry classics, but if it wasn’t so relentlessly catchy, the distortion and energy would qualify it for an entry in the proto-punk canon.
In retrospect, it’s clear that Sadistic Mika Band’s first album, and in particular tracks like the opener “Dansu Wa Sunda,” was the first expression of the Japanese rock aesthetic that would later on surface in bands as diverse as Mainliner, Yura Yura Teikokou, and Teengenerate. It’s also clear from my research that no solid link, no chain of influence, actually exists between Sadistic Mika Band and any of the bands that followed in its wake. It’s one of those cases of parallel evolution, of multiple people using the same tools to reach the same conclusions independent of each other. —Samuel McLemore
…from Sadistic Mika Band (1973)
See also: “KILL / KILL (I WANNA QUILL YOU, WHAT DO YOU WANT?)” by BoAT (2000); “Abakareta Sekai” by THEE MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT (2001)
“miss you” by m-flo loves melody & Ryohei Yamamoto [rhythm zone, 2003]
The m-flo loves… project had yet to secure its reputation in the J-pop scene when VERBAL and Taku Takahashi dropped “miss you,” and in a way, the 2003 single began the trial run for the premium R&B collaboration series. The rapper and producer had to search for a singer to fill the space once occupied by founding member and former main vocalist LISA, who had just parted ways to pursue a solo career. While “miss you” wasn’t the first m-flo loves… single—that honor goes to “REEEWIND!” featuring Crystal Kay —it set the stage for m-flo’s new direction of employing a revolving roster of guest vocalists going forward.
If VERBAL sounds more like an accessory to his own group in “miss you,” it’s all to spotlight the intimate duet performed by guests melody and Ryohei Yamamoto. “Even when we’re together, miss you / even when you’re close, miss you,” the former singer sighs in resignation in the chorus, and the two play the part of two lovers in a strained relationship. They trade dialogue in the form of a quick, heated volley as they get pressed by the rushing momentum of Takahashi’s drum ’n’ bass-inspired R&B beat. The speed hardly intimidates either vocalists, though, with them both gliding over the production as they stay in sync to each other in the conversation.
VERBAL and Takahashi did more than position melody and Yamamoto as fill-in singers in “miss you,” casting the guests as the song’s stars while building a world around them. Daring yet for them, too, to orchestrate a complex duet with their guests. Even after the return of LISA, the best m-flo loves… singles follow this adventurous spirit in the name of true collaboration. —Ryo
…from ASTROMANTIC (2003). Listen to it on Spotify.
See also: “Why Not?” by Fantastic Plastic Machine ft. Ryohei Yamamoto (2002); “Simple As That” by melody. (2003)
This Week in 2022…
“Tsuki To Hoshi Ga Odoru Midnight” by Hinatazaka46 [Sony, 2022]
No. 1 during the week of Nov. 4, 2022 | Listen to it on YouTube/Spotify
“Tsuki To Hoshi Ga Odoru Midnight” can resemble a corrective to the Hinatazaka46 singles from this past year that revealed new feelings like self-doubt and insecurity once rarely found in their lyrics. Historically, the youngest Sakamichi group occupied themselves in their singles with the bigness of their crushes and their adoration for the one their hearts were set on. A sprightly pop production fueled last November’s “Tteka” like their usual, but this time the idols weren't so won over by such surface enthusiasm: “If you're just looking for someone cute, wouldn't it be fine if you chose anyone else,” they questioned in the chorus. And in this spring's “Bokunanka,” they rejected their privilege to love right at the start of the song.
“Tsuki To Hoshi” reels back Hinatazaka to a sunny territory familiar to their early releases. The grand-piano arrangement feels like a breath of fresh air after the decidedly glum “Bokunanka” while the production structurally charts out a narrative arc where the music all leads to the big chorus that doubles as a flash of epiphany: “Let's do only the things we really want to do / I don't want to drift away after knowing too much,” the idols profess in a breathless, run-on cadence as if driven by the rush brought forth by the rising string arrangements, and the propelling momentum of the verse gives the impression of the idols finally breaking through their own inhibitions.
The drama at the core of “Tsuki To Hoshi” wouldn't completely resonate, though, without scenes of emotional bleakness prefacing the idols’ personal breakthroughs. The pessimism of the groups two previous releases wasn’t all for nought as it helped widen the emotional palette of the group’s music ever so slightly, opening up their singles to allow in more sobering perspectives. “A life with no meaning, no meaning / it feels like I'm wasting away so I start to get anxious,” the idols confess at one point a detail that’s a far cry from obsessing over a crush from afar. The stresses ultimately let their realizations hit that much more earned as they hang on to the faith of a bright future despite all the elements persuading them to believe otherwise.
This narrative of hanging on to optimism at the face of doubt is relatively new to Hinatazaka’s singles discography. Yet to say “Tsuki To Hoshi” is wholly uncharacteristic for the group would be discrediting their identity as part of the Sakamichi groups. The sentimental focus for a take-home message, driven by one mouthful of a chorus, natch, seems in line with many Sakurazaka singles going back to their days as Keyakizaka as well as a Nogizaka single as recent as “Boku Wa Boku Wo Sukininaru.” Now four years since their debut, it also might be about time Hinatazaka gets to explore more lyrical ground.
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Next issue of This Side of Japan is out December. You can check out previous issues of the newsletter here.
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I wrote at length about “Swallowtail Butterfly ~Ai No Uta~” in This Side of Japan issue #42.