SpectReview: Various Artists – Pacific Breeze 2: Japanese City Pop, AOR and Boogie 1972-1986

Pacific Breeze 2, Light In The Attic’s follow-up to their successful 2018 city-pop compilation, once again brings the beloved genre to American shores with a heightened focus on its embryonic, early-70s forms.

-DEEP PINK-

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I don’t know whether to be jubilant or depressed about our current obsession with city pop. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely all for globalization, especially when it occurs in a country as notoriously xenophobic as the United States. Historically we’ve really only canonized “Western” music in this country, ignoring so many other iconic efforts from musicians in non-English speaking countries; one can only imagine how works like Ryo Fukui’s Scenery or Soda Stereo’s self-titled record or Milton Nascimento’s Cluba da Esquina would have altered the development of American culture. Then again, a genre like city pop might have emerged in Japan as a product of its time, but its distinct amalgamation of jazz fusion, disco, boogie, funk, and other Western-borne confections meant that its presence in America would have perhaps felt redundant, certainly less like the novelty it was in its home country.

City pop survives in America not so much as a reminder of times past, but as wish-fulfillment for a generation that hardly remembers the last time economic security was realistically viable. Never mind that the poolsides, the beaches, the sports cars and newfangled technologies that inspired city pop’s irresistible aesthetic have remained parallel to America’s economic development (nay, even its musical culture) since the country at large unearthed the genre in the early 2010s. Generally speaking, the R&B and hip-hop that dominated last decade were, in a sense, topically similar as anything by Junko Ohashi, Tatsuro Yamashita or even Casiopeia. The difference is the distance. When the average American (likely an English speaker) listens to Rick Ross spin webs about his fantastic ventures or Frank Ocean empathize with the hollow lives of LA’s rich kids, the cultural proximity of the stories, and the ability to understand the language, get in the way; the effect is distancing, as if we’re viewing a life that can’t be ours because it’s already someone else’s. Music like city pop is immersive for the exact opposite reasons; its antiquity and its lyrical triteness (or, more accurately to many American listeners, its indecipherability) allows us to instinctively fill in the blanks with our own experiences and preconceptions. The effect (combined with the genre’s powerful association with opulence and focus on catchy melodies) is instant, immediate immersion. In city pop’s faded pastel sunsets and stark geometric architecture, we escape to a reality divorced from modern anxieties and existential threats: a reality made all the more real because of very real it once was – long ago in a galaxy far, far away.

(It helps, of course, that multiple American generations have another degree of separation for their Japanese-related nostalgia: the popularization of video game consoles. No doubt that the presence of companies like Sony, Nintendo and Sega have informed countless Americans of the myriad melodic ideas of Japanese composers, many of whom were directly influenced by this kind of music.)

Thank goodness for Light In The Attic, a Seattle-based record label that is working hard to bring this in-demand music, legally, to American shores. 2018’s Pacific Breeze: Japanese City Pop, AOR and Boogie 1976-1986 was an excellent gesture, compiling together both comparatively well-known hits like Taeko Ohnuki’s “Kusuri Wo Takusan” or Haruomi Hosono’s “Sports Men” and more obscure gems like Hiroshi Satoh’s “Say Goodbye”. Unsurprisingly, the collection succeeded, prompting a second dip into those picturesque waters. Pacific Breeze 2 may not make as much of a splash as its predecessor, but its still an excellently-curated series of songs that accurately captures the range of styles that soundtracked those halcyon days. What this compilation does more effectively is illustrate its development across the years, pulling from all the way back in the early 70s to showcase the folkier, more acoustic-based movements that led to an electronic takeover by the turn of the decade. Subtle touches of reggae and folk rock grace Bread & Butter’s “Pink Shadow”; Tokyo Taste’s “Sadistics” bears that eclectic  autumnal bounce; The Mystery Kindaichi Band’s “Kindachi Kosuke No Theme” and Yu Imai’s augmented follow-up, meanwhile, are both couched in early-disco strings and funk bass. These tracks don’t make up a ton of the material here, but their presence is certainly notable.

The sleeker sides of city-pop, the keyboards and wah-wah pedals and soft percussion, otherwise dominate. Standouts include Piper’s whistle-led, beach-bound instrumental “Hot Sand,” Anri’s deliciously-romantic vintage R&B “Last Summer Whisper,” and Junko Ohashi’s classic slow-jam “Rainy Sunday Afternoon Break”. If you’re cognizant of city-pop, a lot of this will feel less like a revelation than a warm note from a familiar presence. Yet that may be its best quality. Like any music of this variety, Pacific Breeze 2’s greatest source of pleasure is simply pressing play and letting the harmonies, the bubbly melodies, the sheer optimism wash over your ears. Then, after the ultra-cool tones “Bay/Sky Provincetown 1977” fade out, and the grim reality starts to seep back in, you can press play again and remind yourself what optimism used to feel like.

Recommended for cellular chonkers.