New Song/New Resonance: Anime as Gateways into New Music and Perspectives
Welcome to a special issue of This Side of Japan dedicated to music in anime
Welcome to a special issue of This Side of Japan, a newsletter about Japanese music, new and old! For this feature, I invited guest writers to share about some of their favorite music from an anime. You can check out previous issue of the newsletter in the archives.
Initially, I wanted to read stories from my friends about some of their first exposure to Japanese music via anime. What song drew them in? From what show? And what kind of rabbit hole did that lead them into? Anime can be a fantastic gateway into all kinds of great music as well as a starting point into the arts and culture of a whole other country. Maybe I could collect inspiring firsthand accounts of this phenomenon in action.
You will read a piece of this below, but the stories collected here discuss more than the initial step into an unknown yet exciting domain. New music come into my life, again and again, as I queue up yet another new show. A theme song gradually grows richer in emotional depth as the season progresses, its developments reflected more and more into the lyrics. These rewarding feelings inspire me to track down the artists responsible, and next thing I know, I discover an entire constellation of musicians home to a niche yet vast industry. The writing here touches on all of these points to hopefully show you an example of the many phases within the beginning of the “anime watcher to Japanese-music obsessive” experience.
This feature aims to showcase the capabilities of anime to deepen our relationship with music through the introduction of new artists, scenes and perspectives in which we appreciate music. Hope you at least discover some great new music—I know I did as my guest writers graciously sent me their words on their songs of choice.
Enjoy, and thank you to all of my writers below! —Ryo
“Nornir” by Yakushimaru Etsuko [MIRAI, 2013]
…from Mawaru Penguindrum (2011)
It all changed in the summer of 2011, with the anime Mawaru Penguindrum. I had just started following anime seasonally around this time—that is to say, watching shows the same time that they aired in Japan. It was also my first year of ani-blogging. Suffice to say, it was an exciting time for me as I got to keep up with the latest anime while also talking about it with fellow fans online through my writing.
I only watched ones that looked interesting to me, though, and Mawaru Penguindrum wasn't one of those shows to be completely honest. However, what was interesting was seeing how often the show would come up in conversation. For the most part, it was more or less what I expected to hear: it was random, kinda weird, intimidating from its random weirdness. One prevailing comment about the show stood out, though: “The opening theme is a banger,” or something to that effect. After seeing more and more similar comments pop up, I got curious and checked out the said theme for myself.
I came to know the theme as “Nornir” by Yakushimaru Etsuko. From my immediate reaction, it wasn't nearly what I expected based on how people were talking about it; I expected something bright and vibrant, like most popular opening themes around that time. The song was neither of those things. It starts out calm with the soft strings and gentle piano straight out of a winter wonderland. Then it comes to an abrupt halt by a sound that feels like you’re being transported into a different, much colder world. I’ve since likened the feeling to being out in the snow then accidentally stumbling across a secret lab. The drums start racing. All of a sudden, we’re running. But what from? To where? We don’t know. Yet we keep descending further into a cold unknown. We’re not alone, though. As all the while, we’re accompanied by a guiding wisp that is Etsuko’s singing.
I had never heard someone sing in the manner that Etsuko does, this breathy and airy sort of singing, almost as if she’s whispering into the microphone. It was different, to say the least, but also so oddly captivating, so much so that, after I had gone and listened to the song for hours on end, I looked to see what other songs she had done.
I knew early on in life that anime having associated songs was par for the course. As a Filipino growing up in the early to mid-’90s, anime wasn’t as foreign a medium as most other parts of the world. You could even say it was about as ubiquitous as Sunday morning cartoons. Choudenji Machine Voltes V (or simply, Voltes V), Dragon Ball Z as well as Yu Yu Hakusho and Recca no Honoo were so popular that the theme songs to these shows were all reasonably recognizable by the general populace. Heck, some karaoke machines from back then had those themes in their libraries as just something you can sing at a party if you felt like it.
However, I would only ever think of those songs strictly in the context of them being associated with anime. For example, I used to have this folder to store all the songs from various anime that I liked listening to, and I would sort the songs in my computer folder by setting the artist tag as the title of the show they’re from rather than the name of the band or artist performing the theme. I wasn't interested in actively following the bands/artists or listening to their songs that weren't featured in an anime. I figured, why would I? I liked the song because I liked the anime it was from primarily, not because I liked the band or the artist performing them.
But “Nornir” marked the first time that I would actively look for songs by a Japanese artist independent of their work with anime. In my search, I found out that Yakushimaru Etsuko belonged to a band called Soutaiseiriron. At the time, they had already released two full albums and an EP, all of which I would listen to and get enthralled by their eclectic sound in short order. I’d never sought out older Japanese music albums like that before either. It didn't matter to me that I could barely, if at all understand the songs. I just knew that I liked the music. It was like a whole new world opened up before me.
As I learned more about Soutaiseirion, it came to my attention that they were coming out with a new album, which also marked the first time that I would wait in anticipation for a new Japanese music album to drop. It wasn't gonna go into my catch-all anime songs folder—it was going with all of Souteiseiriron’s work. I would start to do the same for all the other bands and artists who I found out about through anime: SCANDAL, school food punishment, Stereopony, etc etc. My library was now starting to fill up with actual names of people and groups when before it was just that one folder I had. Sure enough, not long thereafter, anime songs wouldn't even be the majority of what was in there anymore. They were all now, just songs: songs that I liked, by bands and artists that I liked and whose careers I now follow. The rest is pretty much history. This is why I credit anime as my true gateway into Japanese music, and “Nornir” was the key that opened up those gates for me. —Leap
Leap writes about Japanese music on the blog Leap250 as well as their own Substack. You can find them on Twitter.
“Shonen Shojo” by GING NANG BOYZ [UK.PROJECT, 2021]
…from Sonny Boy (2021)
As it happens in several anime productions by Shingo Natsume and Shinichiro Watanabe, songs by artists mainly from the indie scene, specifically composed for each of their series, play an important role in shaping every episode. In their 2021 summer season premiere Sonny Boy, this is no exception. There’s the peak moment of uncertainty and abstraction marked by toe’s “Rhapsody.” The feeling of resignation upon returning to daily routine and the nostalgic yearning, expressed in “Spare” by mitsume. And that beautiful scene with “Lightship” by The Natsuyasumi Band that initiates one of the last chapters, right in an intimate and resource-limited yet pompous burial ceremony, where the lyrics serve as a precious dedication to this already-dearly missed person: “It’s just like being there / Though I'm really lonely / But the words you gave me / In the light, they never disappear.”
Undoubtedly, “Shonen Shojo” by Ging Nang Boyz, the project led by Kazunobu Mineta, is the track that encapsulates all the themes of the series from its very first chapter. Essentially, it narrates the initial moment when, not so fortuitously, two characters—one somewhat nihilistic and the other demonstrating admirable resolve, breaking free from their past and seeing this new life as an opportunity—meet and symbolically unite. Both the boy and the girl realize that they have a place in the world through a sudden mutual connection, enabling them to support each other through difficult times and places (“Here, you can stay,” Mineta says on several occasions). From that moment, we embark on a journey with these high school students as they navigate the complexities of life, conveyed in a surreal and symbolic manner and accompanied by great music that leaves an indelible impact on the audience. —Iván
Iván is in charge of sending out City Game Pop every week, a newsletter in Spanish primarily focused on Japanese music. You can also find him on Twitter discussing not only that but also topics like the Japanese video game industry. He has contributed to various publications, including Akihabara Blues and Caninomag.
“Freek’N You” by Jodeci [Uptown / MCA, 1995]
…from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind (2018)
Endurance typically emerges from two inter-weaving forms of half-life: the solidity of craft and synergy inciting spark, and the evanescence of glamor draping perception. Style is elusive and effervescent, and thus what one does allow to seduce the beholder can go whichever way the wind takes it. Yours truly, if I had to pick, I’d always defer to DeVante Swing over Hirohiko Araki when it comes to which maestro I get captivated by; a girl just likes relying on immediate sincere romance over surreal, hysterical and dangerously ironic action-adventure involving Nazi Vampires and all that there.
I’d be a liar and a half if I didn’t acknowledge the potency of either man’s use of style. Both are obsessed with the twist-tie of bodies, and craft very sinewy and angular (Jodeci’s angles edged into razors by their occasional ‘colorist’ in Timbaland) presentations that rely on dense vocabularies of reference to other icons of style. Hirohiko’s got the one-up here, admittedly, because his homages touch beyond his field of manga to Hipgnosis’ graphic design work (and the albums their art oft. draped), Antonio Lopez’s work with Missoni and various surrealists... Meanwhile DeVante’s palette is limited to African American 20th century music, but his specialty is synergizing the branches and distaffs of these craftsmen (The Womacks, Richard Smallwood, Prince, Dr. Dre, Mint Condition, The Winans, Teddy Riley, and so on) into a personally particular slice of R&B bliss that few successfully emulate. Plus it helps that while Hirohiko’s characters are all his own, DeVante gets to rely on that whinnying tone of Cedric “K-Ci” Hailey.
When I learned that JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind decided to go with “Freek’N You” as an ending theme, a part of me nodded and chalked it up to the sort of shitpost po-mo memeing that the series enables and emboldens with its irreverent air. Yet whenever I rethink it, the meeting of the minds makes so much sense as a parallel pairing. Sure, the iconic “EVERY TIME I CLOSE MY EYES…” and K-Ci’s straining, incoherent gospel-bronco ad-libbing is silly, but in a way it compliments the leering ooze of JJBA beyond the absurdism. And after all, can I really object to however many viewers getting seduced into DeVante Swing’s woozy world of desire? Hope they check Diary Of A Mad Band as well, though. —Micha
Micha is on Twitter. You can find her writing wherever it happens, whenever such tragedy befalls us.
“Tenshi No Yubikiri” by Mai Fukuda [King, 1998]
…from Kareshi Kanojo No Jijou (1998)
There’s a second verse to Mai Fukada’s “Tenshi No Yubikiri.” Another chorus, too, and a bridge, plus the climactic key change thereafter to bring the classic pop song home. But all these sections seem like bonus additions after listening to the superior version, the truncated iteration of this single as it plays in the opening sequence of 1998’s Kare Kano. The constraints of time slim the song down into an even leaner form. A good half of the intro verse gets cut to lead straight into the title roll; the music quickly dissolves after the chorus, fading out on an unresolved piano chord. After the edits, the first 2 minutes of the four-minute song transforms into a tight, punchy 89-second theme.
The arc of an anime’s opening song—the intro, verse and what would be a chorus in its full-length version—must work around the standard time frame of an intro roll — 89 seconds to be exact. This unique stricture has long been part of industry practice, enough to inspire a songwriting structure unique to this particular syncing as well as official abridged versions of the single commonly labeled as “TV size.” More often than not, the song is first exposed to many at its TV size via its accompanying opening roll, and then the rest of the song is sought out after, with anime fans familiarizing themselves with the full run later.
In many cases, the TV size can appear secondary standing against its full-length counterpart due to its comparatively incomplete shape as a pop song. That said, paired with the brilliant editing set to the show’s opening sequence, “Tenshi No Yubikiri” becomes an even more powerful, if not the superior song at its TV size. The narrator’s heart trembles upon the sight of her crush in the song, and the anticipation building from the verse unloads come the chorus. All of the show’s characters are seen ascending into the sky as that soaring chorus hits, and the restless drum beat further propels the music heavenward like an airplane finally detached from the runway. But while the combination of visual and music suggests total freedom, the final piano chord leaves the sequence with an ellipses. Do Miyazawa and Arima, our main two protagonists and love interests, truly live happily ever after as they fade into the clouds, hand in hand? At its TV size, “Tenshi No Yubikiri” gracefully leaves the viewers in suspense. —Ryo
“Soundscape” by TRUE [Lantis, 2016]
…from Hibike! Euphonium 2 (2016)
It is often discussed online about whether or not anison artists care at all about the shows they make songs for and how their music might relate to them. While the reality may not be what many believe, there are times when the theme songs can show a stronger connection to an anime series. To me, a good example of this is the songs of TRUE, a.k.a. Miho Karasawa, for the Hibike! Euphonium series.
The first season saw the protagonist Kumiko in the process of falling back in love with the instrument she has played all her life, and its opening song, “DREAM SOLISTER,” was an invitation to go towards your dreams and make others listen to your sound. Meanwhile, “Soundscape,” the theme song of the second season, seemed like a statement from Kumiko’s point of view to keep pursuing your dream with courage and passion. And I just love how the TV-short edit conveys that statement, wonderfully using the song to present the story of Kumiko and the other band members. The track’s extended introductory segment accompanies the short recap at the start of each episode, and the actual opening sequence shows the main characters rehearsing and playing their instruments—as well as some moments of everyday life—to the rhythm of the energetic instrumental.
The full version of “Soundscape” contains lyrics that directly call back to dialogue lines from the first season, but they also refer to how the many characters in the series play their instruments not only for themselves but also for the sake of others—a key aspect of the second season. It’s just beautiful to see how much the people behind Hibike! Euphonium care about the franchise, including Karasawa through her work as a lyricist, and her contribution to Eupho certainly makes me look forward to her work in other places every time I see her credited on an upcoming release. —Fabricio
You can find Fabricio on Twitter.
“Utakotoba” by MyGO!!!!! [Bushiroad Music, 2023]
…from BanG! Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!! (2023)
By episode 10 of BanG Dream! It’s MyGO!!!!!, things are in shambles. Three episodes earlier, bassist Soyo fled the venue in tears after the band impulsively closes their first live set with “Haruhikage,” a song initially written for the band Soyo was previously in with drummer Taki, vocalist Tomori and two other friends—friends who unilaterally, and harshly, blew up that old group with zero notice or explanation. In the intervening episodes, we’ve gained a much clearer picture of how hurt and resentful Soyo is, and how little she thinks of her current bandmates.
Because this is a band anime, the only way out is through a song. That song, “Utakotoba,” needs to carry a lot of weight. It needs to satisfyingly resolve a fairly intractable character conflict. It needs to sound good while doing it. And it has to make sense both outside the context of the anime episode and within it, with the latter being particularly difficult because, at the moment when the song starts, the band has been dissolved and their bassist hates them. It’s a credit to composer Yokochi Kenta, lyricist Fujiwara Masaki, and storywriter Ayana Yuniko that the song largely pulls this off.
It’s been previously established that the group’s lyrics begin their life as stream-of-consciousness free verse poetry in Tomori’s journals. “Utakotoba” is no exception. Over the course of the tenth episode, we see the song begin as Tomori reading her journals onstage to a confused and mildly hostile audience, and gradually evolve from there, with members of the group we’ll soon come to know as MyGo!!!!! getting pulled back into her orbit one by one. We don’t hear the “finished” song until just before the closing credits, but we’ve been seeing it get built from the ground up as the episode unfolds.
The real trick is that the song’s composition echoes this arc—even in the finished version, we begin with Tomori speaking plainly and arrhythmically over a single picked guitar, other instruments gradually entering in the same order the members returned to the group. Tomori’s vocals increase in urgency, and the band begins speaking, echoing her statements. Nearly a full minute in, Soyo finally decides to make her entrance, and her bass explosively enters the mix to complete the instrumental.
Halfway through the song, we hit the first chorus, and we finally hear the characters sing—back in harmony at last. It’s the release not just for the first half of the song but for the entire episode up to that point. The overall track represents a major narrative turning point, and uses its composition to communicate Tomori’s transition from her old band to MyGO!!!!! whether or not you listen to the words. The lyrics, accompaniment and, most of all, Hina Youmiya’s vocal performance as Tomori all work together to deliver a showcase moment, one that demonstrates how effectively music can be integrated into storytelling. —Dorian
“TORTOISE KNIGHT” by Taisei Iwasaki ft. Ai Ninomiya [Toho, 2017]
…from Kekkai Sensen (2015)
About a few years ago, I was drawn to watch Kekkai Sensen thanks in large part to the music of the first season. (BUMP OF CHICKEN and UNISON SQUARE GARDEN in one season!) If you haven’t watched it, the show follows the life of main character Leonardo Watch as he tries to survive in the otherworldly city of Hellsalem’s Lot with the help of Libra, a secret organization he’s recently become a member of. As a mostly episodic anime, the things Leonardo experiences from episode to episode vary wildly, but one common theme that consistently presents itself is the need to try moving forward, even if it’s one step at a time. And jumping all the way to the climax of the second season, just as it looks like Leonardo is about to lose is when “TORTOISE KNIGHT” finally begins to play.
A “tortoise knight” is what his sister affectionately calls Leonardo because like a tortoise, he doesn’t walk backwards. He might not be the most capable member of Libra, nor the bravest, but he is capable of moving forward even if it’s just one step at a time to be the knight his loved ones need the most. And for this reason, this song has continued to stick with me long after I watched the anime: Every time I listen to it, I remember how even someone like Leonardo can muster up the courage to move forward. The way that Taku Iwasaki and Ai Ninomiya perfectly encapsulate the theme of the anime in one stunning song always leaves me in awe. —CJ
You can find CJ on Twitter.
“Lion” by May’n & Megumi Nakajima [Flying Dog, 2008]
…from Macross Frontier (2008)
As it happens with every entry in the franchise, Macross Frontier adapts its basic mythos built on militaristic giant robots, melodramatic love triangles and incredibly memorable music to the sensibilities of its time. “Lion,” the second opening song to the 2008 installment, plays up the themes central to the franchise with both sincerity and sophistication—probably the reason why it has become such a massive cover and karaoke staple pretty much since the series originally aired. Right after bell-like synths first play the main melody, the song takes off as a high-energy number. The production incorporates classic rock instrumentation with synths that borrow credibility from the show’s futuristic aesthetic, and the string sections punctuate everything with just the right amount of drama.
All these elements become the perfect setting for the vocal performances done in the character of Sheryl Nome and Ranka Lee. The acrobatic riffs of May’n as the former harmonize with the more juvenile singing of Megumi Nakajima as the latter in a track that tells listeners that no matter how scarred, and even as nobodies, these characters want to survive. In a franchise that thematically uses music to explore the many sacrifices that come with survival, having two of its most prominent heroines boldly declare that survival itself is what they want most feels both like a raison d’etre and an acknowledgment of how the complexities of war have permanently changed these characters.
The way this song ties to the characters of Sheryl Nome and Ranka Lee is what endeared me to it, and a big reason why, to this day, I keep going back to Macross Frontier and its music. With “Lion” in particular, there is a strong sense of growth that is hard not to root for. Where “Triangular,” the show’s first opening, is more about teasing audiences with the usual themes and character tropes expected of a Macross love triangle, “Lion” is, to me, about the challenges that come with facing adversity while staying strong to who you want to be (likely the reason why the song manages to be reprised with such ease). Though there are other Frontier songs that I latched onto on a deeper level, I still think this song embodies the beast that Frontier went on to become. —Bacci
You can find Bacci on Twitter.
“Ue Wo Muite Arukou” by Kyu Sakamoto [EMI, 1961]
…from From Up on Poppy Hill (2011)
In 2013, From Up on Poppy Hill made its theatrical debut in the United States. Like most anime fans in the U.S., I was excited; it was my first opportunity to see a film by Studio Ghibli in a theater. Goro Miyazaki was making his return to the director’s chair after the near-universal negative reception of his debut Tales from Earthsea, and, to my recollection, expectations of his success were not high. I don’t remember how I felt about Earthsea at the time—it’s likely I held the prevailing opinion, though I’ve since found things to like about it—but I had reason to be hopeful. Goro’s father, the obviously legendary Hayao Miyazaki, was writing the screenplay and overseeing the production this time. I rationalized that it was, essentially, a new film by my favorite director.
Upon first viewing, the intricacies of the plot were lost on me. Set in ‘60s post-war Japan, the film uses a backdrop of mounting civil unrest and pushes toward independence from American occupation as the framing for a feel-good story about high school students working to save their soon-to-be demolished clubhouse. As an American, I simply didn’t have the cultural context to understand the subtle ways adversity was implied for the cast rather than stating it outright. I would only give it serious thought years later because of one moment that stuck with me: a needle drop of Kyu Sakamoto’s 1961 hit “Ue Wo Mite Arukou,” or “I Look Up as I Walk.”
I had been familiar with the Americanized version of the song—retitled to “Sukiyaki” (essentially: “beef stew”)—as it had become a minor R&B standard and a popular flip to interpolate in hip hop. Janice-Marie Johnson’s wistful English lyrics soaked with heartbreak and yearning are beautiful, but they can hardly be called a translation. Songwriter Rokusuke Ei came up with the original lyrics while walking home from a public demonstration in protest of the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security, which allowed the US to maintain military presence in Japan. His eyes welled up with tears as it dawned on him that years of organized outcry had done nothing to tip the scales of power.
Sakamoto’s original version of the track, delivered in a mournful croon, was one of the first songs I tried to learn and truly understand in Japanese. As I examined its relatively simple lyrics and learned the history I’d previously been ignorant to, I immediately recalled its use in Poppy Hill and appreciated it more as a serious period piece. Without any need for narrative exposition the scene conveys feelings of hopelessness converging with, and then being overtaken by, a resolve to continue fighting. It was an evocative moment, an elegant bit of storytelling, and an homage to the activists of decades past all at once. Realizing I’d missed so much in a film I thought I loved, I learned to be a little more critical as a listener and more attentive as a viewer. —Shy
Shy’s writing can be found on Pitchfork, Bandcamp Daily, Tone Glow, her own Substack and many more. You can find her on Twitter.
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