Welcome to the opening installment of First & Last, a series of mixes providing a glimpse into the world of Japanese private press, or 自主盤, pronounced “jishuban”, which loosely translates to “independent board.”
This first mix, a menagerie of songs from across the spectrum of Japanese private press, serves as an introduction to subsequent mixes. Tanoshī.
A mysterious entry in the canon of Japanese minimalism, Série Réflexion 1 was the debut and swan song of Oscilation Circuit, a short-lived ensemble helmed by composer Kenichiro Isoda. Released in 1984, the album was intended to launch a new series for Satoshi Ashikawa’s Sound Process label, whose Wave Notation albums had already heralded a new phase of ambient composition.
Prior to disbanding in 2010, Tokyo’s Yura Yura Teikoku banged out 10 studio albums, a handful of EPs and a live record. Over the course of their 21 years as a working band, the trio’s sound morphed considerably, stretching from their inception as a garage rock outfit to the lush, considered arrangements of their final LP, Hollow Me — an album that would anticipate the direction vocalist Shintaro Sakamoto would soon explore via a solo career.
One of the many fabricated genres used to classify the music of Japan’s Miroque is “toy sentimentalism.” That feels like an accurate enough description for the pianist and electronic composer’s 2001 album, Botanical Sunset, freshly reissued by Slow Editions.
Tokyo based Tarah Kikuchi is by turns throwback and on-trend. His homespun recordings feel snug, warm and familiar. Songs like “Railgun Girl” reside in a sweet spot between Hosono and Demarco, but it’s when he ventures out from that place of comfort, sonically, on a track like “Veronica,” the results feel especially inspired. High-pitched harmonies hop over Os Mutantes grooves as Kikuchi’s palette veers into pop-bop. If that all sounds a bit like Beck’s Tropicalia that’s because it does, in the most welcome way.
Fresh off the release of The Feeling of Love, Tokyo-based songwriter Shintaro Sakamoto joins us to discuss steel guitar, the influence of Allen Ginsberg, favorite record stores, and New York City music.
For his debut Lagniappe Session, Tokyo-based singer-songwriter Yuma Abe cites influences and inspirations, including Devendra Banhart, who toured with his band Never Young Beach in Japan and contributes guitar to Fantasia, and Haruomi Hosono (Chu Kosaka’s former bandmate and frequent collaborator).
Originally released in 1982, INTERIOR’s debut blends fluttering loops of melody with punched-up percussion and heaps of moody echo. The whole album finds synthetic and acoustic sounds working in symbiosis. Sopranino sax and 808 snares share space alongside trance-like acoustic piano progressions and finger snaps. Warping bass lines commingle with Linndrum kicks. To this day it still sounds somewhat revelatory.
As previously noted, BBE’s ongoing Japanese archival jazz series continues to impress. Unearthing rare finds from an incredibly verdant period roughly spanning 1962-1984, the label’s curators (Tony Higgins and Mike Peden) have thus far released three compilations and reissued 8 lps. Two recent entries from the series to hook our ears are the post-bop Kohsuke Mine lp, First, and the compilation J Jazz Volume 3: Deep Modern Jazz From Japan.
Over the past five years, Light in the Attic have offered wanderlusting listeners a series of primers with reissue compilations featuring music not yet released officially outside of Japan.
The label’s latest collection is called Somewhere Between. Subtitled Mutant Pop, Electronic Minimalism & Shadow Sounds of Japan 1980–1988, this compilation attempts to connect the dots between various fringe figures operating outside of the country’s monolithic commercial music industry.
Out later this month, BBE Music’s seventh installment in their archival Japanese jazz series highlights the Shintaro Quintet’s lp, Evolution–an album originally released in 1984 via the independent label Streetnoise Records.
A modal affair led by bassist Shintaro Nakamura, the session was cut in New York City and comprised of a Japanese-American band featuring pianist Jeff Jenkins, trumpet player Shunzo Ohno, saxophonist Bob Kenmotsu, and drummer Fukushi Tainaka.
When asked what he’s most proud of in his five decade career in music, the answer doesn’t come easy for Makoto Kubota. The prolific Kyoto-born singer, songwriter, and producer has never been one to look back at his past work, and like his longtime friend and collaborator Haruomi Hosono, Kubota remains eternally humble, preferring to let the music do the talking. Until now.
We had a long, wide-ranging conversation with Kubota, lasting until the wee hours of the morning. Below are excerpts from the four hour chat—one of very few interviews with Kubota that has been translated into English.
Japanese singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Shintaro Sakamoto continues to mold his muse, via the release of the “Boat” 7″. Even better news? Sakamoto is slated to hit the US next month with a handful of live dates on both coasts. A rare stateside treat …
Recorded in New York City, smack in the middle of the 1980s, Benkei deftly sidesteps the era’s too frequent production woes. In sharp contrast, the record presents aesthetically perennial. As a piece, Benkei emanates a presence, an atmosphere that in no way feels ad hoc, but one more befitting a group of serial collaborators. This is both a testament to Toyoda as a bandleader and the players innate communion and agility throughout.
For about a quarter century, P.S.F. Records was an amazingly reliable source for Japan’s wildest underground sounds. The label’s founder, Hideo Ikeezumi, passed away in 2017, but he’s paid fitting tribute to on Black Editions’ new volume in the supremely heady Tokyo Flashback series, Psychedelic Speed Freaks (Black Editions reissued the original Tokyo Flashback last year.) A lavishly packaged four-LP set made up entirely of previously unreleased material, it showcases the awesome breadth of the P.S.F. discography, ranging from Fillmore East-ready jams (Ghost, White Heaven) to hair-raising free jazz (Masayoshi Urabe, Maher Shalal Hash Baz). There’s even room for unclassifiable excursions, like the positively wonderfully spacey solo accordion offering from á qui avec Gabriel. This isn’t just a compilation—it’s an odyssey.