Walking, Japanese Music, and Suiyoubi no Campanella

We have various reasons for having our own choices of music. At a certain age, we make or break friends depending on whether their taste in music coincides with our own. At a different point in our lives, we abolish such criteria instead keeping our music in a separate verse. For many, there are certain factors that determine if a track belongs to their playlist or not.

First of all would be the general tone of the track and its beats along with the singing style; in general, we refer to this as genre. As we pore through the specifics, the genres of music begin to distinguish themselves in different ways into a large array of nomenclatures. The next important that factor is the language in which the song has been sung, assuming that we are not referring to instrumental compositions. Again, in general, we listen to tracks sung in languages that we are familiar with. After all, lyrics are an important constituent of the potpourri of feelings that we experience while listening to music.

While I agree mostly with the first aspect, I often make exceptions as the primary justification for a preferable song supersedes all: does the song give me a unique feeling? If yes, then we have it: add to library. However, in regard to the aspect of language, I have completely different viewpoint. It baffles some, it amuses the rest. I listen to tracks from all over the world and often do not bother to find out the translated meaning of the lyrics written in languages that I do not understand. On one hand, I obsess over the lyrical depth of songs by Opeth, Iron Maiden, or say, Caravan; on the other hand, I swoon over melodies of Alcest and bang my desk with my fist while listening to Rammstein even though I do not really know what they are saying at that instant. It is a curious thing and I discovered a plausible explanation for it while I was mentioning this to my colleague who was inquiring about my recent tryst with Japanese pop music.

In the not too distant past, I was the epitome of lethargy. It’s an oscillating curve in my life. A year back I had a bicycle and I would ride it to work everyday. Then it got stolen from my office premises and soon I was riding the office bus to work everyday. There was progress: I finished three Dostoevsky books, a Gogol, an Iris Murdoch, and a few other books during my transit to work over a period of a year. I was also hauled to the office administration for losing my bus pass and having an argument with the office bus monitor. It was eventful and beneficial toward covering up my dwindling reading progress. Soon, it began to throw me into a large soft couch of inactivity, which I embraced until depression and anxiety hit my life and my therapist recommended “regular exercise”.

I tried many things. I woke up early in the morning and stretched for a few days; at first off the bed, then on it, and finally, in deep sleep. I tried to work out after returning from work. I did crunches on my first day, push-ups on the second; I kept it up for a week until the floor seemed good enough to crash onto after returning from work. I even tried to go for a run but the monsoon season hit the town and I spent more time watching the rain from my balcony. All this while, I listened to a very specific track: Heroin Waltz by Harakiri For the Sky. I will be honest here, I have the read the lyrics many times but I could never understand them during the songs. I knew they spoke of despair and aloofness and that was sufficient to bridge the rest of the gap while the drums shattered my reality, sending me into blissful illusion.

It was only after I felt my body poking me incessantly to work out my muscles that I decided to make a move. But again, it was not until I got late from work one day. I was tired of paying the autowallas 70 rupees to return home. I decided to walk. Not only did I reach home in just 35 minutes, I found the walk through the tree lined road quite refreshing. I turned the mobile phone speakers towards me, played a track, and placed it in my breast pocket. This way, my ears would be alert to the few vehicles on the road as well as would enjoy the music.

One of the first songs during this walk I was listening to was Chronostasis by Kinoko Teikoku ( きのこ帝国). I had come across this track on YouTube and had found it uploaded on Soundcloud. The dream-pop track satiated my desire for a new brand of music. Chiaki Sato’s distinctive singing style caught my fancy in no time and soon I would be sipping beer along to the music video back at home. I listened to every track on Fake World Underworld multiple times. I wondered: what’s next?

At one point of my life, I would go down the road listening to Tool and muttering their lyrics. Another time, it would be some 70s band and I would be starstruck by their brilliant composition skills. Maybe, even tracks from FIFA games; they are quite upbeat. But Japanese pop? No, I would say and smile as if something absolutely ridiculous had been suggested. It would be the farthest I would have to move from my comfort zone. After all, I am a lazy person.

That changed after I started walking. It is amazing how a simple activity changes the mind. The rigidity was shifting away and making space for new sounds. One night, YouTube suggested me the music video for Bamboo Princess by Wednesday Campanella (Suiyoubi no Campanella). I decided to give it a go. My first reaction was that of elation. This was a song that was different from every other song that I had ever heard. The structure screamed pop but the beat, rhythm, instruments, and style of singing hinted at everything from electronic to rap yet aligning to neither while seamlessly weaving a traditional Japanese tone to it. I saw the video more than ten times that night astounded by the art and light direction and the perfect choreography. Not a single move was wasted. Every move, every expression led to something and was linked to the previous.

In time, I learned the names of the KOM_I, Kenmochi, and Dir.F. Even though the songs are written and composed by Kenmochi, it is KOM_I’s performance and live presence that ties me to this group. One may say that a display of pure spirit is infectious and it would be quite apt. KOM_I describes her movement as a sort of “primitivism”. This caught my fancy when I watched the videos for Unico, Shakushain, and Aladdin. Even then, I assumed that only her videos would make sense to me. As is the vein of this article, every bubble must be broken. Once my mind had gathered enough video data regarding her movements in music videos and on live stage, it was a simple matter for my brain to recreate the same while listening to her audio tracks. I discovered that her unique style, the brilliant medley of electronic and hip-hop elements along with Kenmochi’s composition allowed Campanella tracks to provide an uplifting and fun experience. Such music finds its place on days when you want to kick the bucket, chuck the egg, and smile at your troubles.

Months onward, I feel glad I discovered Suiyoubi no Campanella. It has brought much needed positive vibes in my life. My library of Campanella songs continues to grow as it slowly but smoothly breaks the elitist barriers of my music choices. Now, I find singing ‘kibikibi dan’ a natural impulse while smiling inwardly.

I do not search for Campanella lyrics on Google for a very specific reason. I like lyrical depth and I am afraid that reading the translations of the typically pop lyrics would intrude upon my fancy for Campanella. It is after a long time that I have accepted happy music in my library. As for the other artists, it is partly laziness and partly deliberate. For instance, in the case of Alcest, I choose to create imagery of the songs based on my own unbiased interpretations. Lyrics often close certain windows of the imagination. It is a personal choice and that is how I prefer to enjoy my music.

In spite of spending most of the past decade turning my back on pop music owing to the despicable quality of new released tracks, I can now boast of Suiyoubi no Campanella as a worthy recommendation to add to your playlists. As one day I thought to myself, walking home holding my umbrella on a rainy dusk, while Wednesday Campanella’s Nishi Tamao played on my phone, “Never had I thought that I would be walking on the road listening to Japanese pop.”

This article was originally published by myself on Medium: https://medium.com/@kaustavganguly11/walking-japanese-music-and-suiyoubi-no-campanella-28afae90c302