Yonige Interview: "I Wanted to Write About Sadness Without the Tragedy"
An English translation of the Japanese interview with Yonige about the rock duo's new album Kenzen Na Shakai
The original Japanese interview was published on Yonige’s official website on May 19, 2020, and it was conducted by freelance writer Chinami Hachisuka. The English translation is mine, and it was translated independently for my own enjoyment. But it’s also supplementary reading material for my newsletter readers who’s not fluent in Japanese but wish to get more info about Yonige’s new record, Kenzen Na Shakai—the album of the week for This Side of Japan issue #12. Please give credit if you are sharing.
Looking now at Kenzen Na Shakai, what kind of album do you think it is?
Ushimaru: This time, it’s not an album with anything special. I started to get less and less interested in the dramatic things, and it started to become more of, how do I write about how nothing is going on?
During House, you talked about “before, I thought I had to write catchy songs,” “I became free from that,” but is it more of that?
Ushimaru: Yes. I challenged that in House, and I think I solidified it this time around. I recently grew more a sense of shame, and there’s starting to be more and more words that I no longer want to use. One, I don’t want to write songs about love. I think the old songs are great as they are, but I don’t think I could write those songs now. So I’ve now been thinking a lot of how to write about mundane things in a way I won’t be embarrassed about.
Why did you originally think you had to write catchy songs? Was it so more people can check out your work?
Ushimaru: Yes. I wanted others to check it out, I wanted it to be easy to consume, and I thought “if I don’t, I won’t survive,” “so this is the only way to do it.” Especially during the time of “Avocado” or “Sayonara Prisoner,” I really wanted it to sell well.
But I recognize that “Avocado” is great because it was a song I didn’t put much thought into. For “Avocado,” we went in the studio, started playing and the song was made after asking “how about these lyrics?” and having a talk about throwing an avocado. I was only able to make music that way because I was young and had yet to feel any sense of structure.
So that song is great in that way, but now that I started to think about more complicated things, it’d be hard to say I could make those same type of songs today. I had to think of new strategies and new ways to do the band.
When did you start thinking that way?
Ushimaru: Most likely when I debuted on a major label. I wanted to succeed through a legitimate way, and to debut on a major means I’m one step closer to that dream. But when I got done making one full album [Girls Like Girls], I started to feel separate from my songs. It didn’t feel fun making them, and I started to think, “hey, is this what I wanted to do?”
Plus, songs that you wrote in that mindset aren’t very fun to perform either. You start to not like the song after because you thought a lot more about how other people would think when they hear the music instead of how you like it. To continue doing the band, first I had to have fun, so I didn’t think it was going so well.
During that time, for all I was accomplishing, I realized it wasn’t aligning with how I wanted to do it.
Did you feel any conflict while you realized this wasn’t for you and started to change your approach?
Ushimaru. There was. If it was a small change, listeners could think it was fun and exciting, but it was such a drastic turnaround, so there was a chance we could lose fans as well as sales of CDs and live shows.
But when I was making House, I met someone I really admired. The reason that I thought I could write about mundane things is thanks to that person, and when I was unsure, I thought of their words to tell myself that it’s all good. The songs turned out to be really great, so I learned that I could enjoy making songs this way, and gradually I was able to feel that this is the right way to do it.
And how was Gokkin-san looking at Ushimaru-san during this change?
Gokkin: I definitely felt things were going different. Whenever I read Ushimaru’s lyrics in the old songs, I would know what’s going on at that time. I would know that, oh, this incident became a song. So I thought, maybe Ushimaru can’t make songs if she isn’t in the middle of a bad wave, and if so, that’s not good, but it’s not so much with these songs. Also, as Ushimaru said, they’re not songs made to be easily consumed anymore.
I think there are two types of bands. One answers to the expectations of fans, and the other writes to how they’re feeling and what they’re interested in at that time, and by changing, they start to distance themselves from what the world wants from a band. Putting it that way, Yonige is the latter type of band. I’m not criticizing the former bands, but I feel good we ended up who we are. It’s great that Ushimaru can write what’s on her mind and put that sensibility that comes with age to write those lyrics.
Now, when I hear the lyrics Ushimaru made, and when we put it together with music, I feel unstoppable like the days when we first started the band. Like, we’re the greatest and the coolest out there. Because we have those kinds of songs, I wasn’t doubtful. Even if we lose fans because of this, it can’t be helped.
You said that not writing songs about love being one of the changes, but is it more that you want to write songs without being restricted to a lane where you have to intentionally write about it or stay away from it on purpose?
Ushimaru: Yes. This is where it gets difficult, but I’m not doing this thinking that I won’t write love songs. If I naturally end up writing a song about love, then that’s good. But when I try to write a song about love now, I get a feeling of embarrassment.
Embarrassment?
Ushimaru: How do I put it… Self-indulgent? Maybe it’s because I’m not so good at it, but when I write songs about love, I end up becoming the victim. Like a heroine in a tragedy.
You definitely become the protagonist once you start to make your own romantic experiences into a song.
Ushimaru: Exactly. That perspective of myself as the protagonist started to get more and more embarrassing. This time, there no longer were any songs I could definitely say were about me.
The first verse of “Akarui Mirai” really makes an impression. When I hear the lyrics, “bulletin board of the town, no one minds/ sleeper on the streets, who no one knows/ Whenever they’re gone, we probably will reminisce fondly,” I don’t feel like it comes from anyone in particular. It’s definitely not the kind of a mood that says “this is about me.”
Ushimaru: Yeah. I think “Akarui Mirai” is the song where I focused on the writing process the most. It’s the one I struggled the most because I was trying to get this nuance down where nothing obviously tragic happened but it still feels somewhat sad. During the week before deadline, I was thinking about the lyrics every day. When I write lyrics, I get hungry but during that week, I ordered UberEats and got McDonalds, crepes, udon… I was just always eating so much. I thought I definitely gained weight, but after I was done and weighed myself, I lost about 3 kgs. I worked enough to lose some calories [laughs].
[Laughs] For this album, you sing about how the everyday isn’t that dramatic and not everyone is the protagonist. I see you were struggling to work that perspective into lyrics?
Ushimaru: Yeah, that’s right. I wanted to put that specific nuance into songs.
But I think it takes some bravery for Yonige to put out work like that. Bands that you can call “live bands,” like the ones you’ve played with before, their stage banter is passionate, and with their songs, they deliver messages like “you are the main character” or “you’re one of a kind.” You went somewhere opposite of that.
Ushimaru: Definitely when we started, I admired those kind of passionate bands, and I wanted to be that too. But the more shows I played, I started to realize it wasn’t what I wanted to do. Honestly, I was like “what are you talking about?” when I talked during sets.
Gokkin: Hahaha! Are you supposed to say that?
Ushimaru: [Laughs] There are people who can and can’t do that kind of thing.
What’s the difference?
Ushimaru: Whether or not the words in their songs or at shows are things they really took to heart. So when I did it, it was just me imitating other bands, and I couldn’t do it. It was scary to stray away from that, but the Retsuden tour made me think, what’s so bad about doing that? So from then on, I stopped imitating other bands. Now, if those kind of bands get popular, I think Yonige doesn’t have to be that.
I think there are definitely people who get strength looking at those kind of bands, so I don’t want to deny them of that, but I think there are some who can feel exhausted. What they’re screaming about is valid, but we have to also live through days that we have no control over.
Gokkin: Exactly. There are times when I want to tell them, what position in where you can say all this? [Laughs]
Ushimaru: There are some moments where it looks like they’re just waving it around.
That’s why I think this Yonige album can help not just a few people.
Ushimaru: I’m happy to hear that. Thank you.
It seems like you struggled a bit with the lyrics, but how was it creating the sound?
Ushimaru: If I had to say how long it took, this time went the longest. I immediately started working on this after I released House, so if I included the time in between when I wasn’t recording, it took about a year and a half.
For example, “Kokojanai Basho” was finished after “Mitaina Koto,” but after a year, it would feel like an old song, so I would start to want to arrange it a little. There were some songs that I ended up redoing like that, so there were a lot of twists and turns.
Gokkin: “Merry Christmas Eve” changed a lot too.
Ushimaru: Right, right. “Merry Christmas Eve” was made after “Kokojanai Basho.” The original lyrics and arrangement were totally different from what ended up on the album, but it didn’t feel fresh anymore, so I remade it. And I re-recorded it the night before Christmas last year. Just following that, I thought, oh, let’s make the lyrics about Christmas Eve too.
Gokki: I thought this song was for spring before the lyrics were made. So the moment when the song came on, I thought, “wait, is she talking about Christmas Eve?” I was surprised. There was the biggest gap when it was finally done.
This time, Doki-san [Taiyo Doki], who plays guitar with us in the live band, got involved in the middle of production. That was really fun. Before for Yonige, what we would do is—not analog but—Ushimaru would bring a chord, and we would explain to each other using our bodies that we want it like this. But Doki-san really knows how to use the computer, and he has all the recording gear at home, so whenever we tell him that we want this rhythm or this melody, he could make it right on the spot. He would respond to us really fast, so it felt fresh to be able to write music without having to do this process where we all get in studio and just play whatever on our instruments.
“Jyuichijigatsu Nijyuyokka” and “Kenzen Na Asa” were produced by Masafumi Goto-san [of Asian Kung-Fu Generation], and “Oujougiwa” and “Akarui Mirai” were produced by Akiko Fukuoka-san [of Chatmonchee]. Aji-Kan and Chatmonchee were both bands you liked when you were in school, right?
Ushimaru: Yes. Just because you work with the people you looked up to doesn’t mean it will go well, so I honestly wondered what would happen. But once we did, it went really, really well. Akko-san [Akiko Fukuoka] was like a mom the whole time [laughs]. She would affirm everything and made us feel great.
Gokkin: She would tell us every time, “that’s cool,” “that’s really great!” [Laughs]
Ushimaru: I don’t think I was ever complimented that much. Also, she would work like this with Chatmonchee too but, she would suddenly come up with arrangements that were a bit different. That part in “Akarui Mirai” when it’s just hand claps, it was because Akko-san suggested “let’s try some hand claps.” “Oujougiwa” was different too.
Gokkin: I mean, both songs are in a weird time signature. Akko-san produced both of the Yonige songs in time signatures we never used.
Ushimaru: Gocchi-san [Masafumi Goto] would also compliment me saying my singing is great, but… isn’t Gocchi-san more technical?
Gokkin: I get what you mean.
Ushimaru: He would openly tell me, “I don’t think this should be like this,” so it was easy to understand in what direction to take the song, and it made it really easy to work. The sound of these two songs sounds especially good.
How did you decide on the overall structure of the album?
Ushimaru: Before, we thought about the balance of the album overall, like “a ballad should go here” and “a more aggressive song should go there.” But this time, we just made song after song without really thinking about it. The instrumental song, “Intro,” is the only one that I made to have something in the middle of “Kokojanai Basho” and “Oujougiwa,” but other than that, I didn’t have anything specific in mind. It was to the point I barely realized, ah, I really wasn’t thinking about much, when I was first organizing it. So that was why it was so hard to come up with the song order.
I thought overall “forget” was the key word to the album.
Ushimaru: There are times when you’re somewhat sad thinking back of the past. About forgetting, moments when you can’t remember and wonder, “oh, what was that again?” happen everyday, but it’s still a sad thing.
They say, “when a person is forgotten is when they truly die,” but if you can relate it to that, we are letting people die on the daily.
Ushimaru: Yeah, that’s right. The person who forgot isn’t really sad because they don’t even know what they forgot. But if you see it from the outside looking in, it’s sad to think that it goes on as if nothing existed and it’s out of my control. I wanted to write that sort of feeling of “it feels sad even though I’m not sad” this time around.
Where did you get the album title, Kenzen Na Shakai? [A Wholesome Society]
Ushimaru: First, I wanted to use a photo related to school for the album cover. School is the first type of society you experience in life, right? But thinking about it now, the atmosphere in school is a little unusual. They make you all wear the same uniform and take the same lessons. I think it’s an odd place.
Definitely. There’s the word “school caste,” and that feeling of how you fit in the classroom getting somewhat decided from the first day of school is a little awkward.
Ushimaru: Yeah. From things like that, I started to want to use a photo of school in some way. You know how there are calligraphy classes in school? The type of words they make you write are always so fake.
Like “hope”?
Ushimaru: Yes [laughs]. Also, like “a blue sky.” I thought that was funny, so I did an image search and the phrase “kenzen na shakai” popped up. I thought, what a strong phrase, so I decided to use it. Someone said “this is supposed to be ironic” when I was looking at SNS after I announced the album, but I didn’t really mean it that way. I just thought that this complicated, odd, unusual present is exactly society as it is. So I didn’t use kenzen na shakai to mean the opposite of today’s society.
What did Gokkin-san think about the album title?
Gokkin: I heard that she got it from looking up calligraphy images afterwards, so first I took it at face value and thought, “wow, you have a way with words.” Like Ushimaru said right now, I didn’t think she used it in a level of going against the grain, but even if kenzen na shakai isn’t so rebellious, it’s still a phrase that makes you feel something. How it’s not intensely calling out anything, and how it’s still like a proper album title on top of that, is very Yonige or just well done.
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