You are looking at the gorgeous art cover of one of the godsent masterpieces of the seventies, anywhere in the world. It was a drawing by eroguro illustrator Kazuichi Hanawa [花輪和一], commissioned for the artwork of one among Terayama's many multiformat projects. Initially a poem compilation, To Die In The Country [田園に死す A.K.A. Pastoral] would also became a gorgeous, bizarre and innovative film, setting a milestone in the Japanese underground. Postmodern meta-narrative, performance art, surrealism, Japanes folklore and raw transgression abound within this film concerning a young teenager from Aomori trying to abandon his familiar house, and set free from the supertitious and judgamental people living there. His attempt of eloping with a much older woman will then become the main concern of no one else but himself in the future, now an older man, filming a movie about himself as a youngster. Many of Terayama's most important themes float around in some way and another, and the absolutely exquisite camera work would later on influence much of the angura aesthetic for years to come.
A crucial element across the whole production has to do with the Unconscious. While most of the new wave cinema from the 60s and 70s has been influenced by the concept (in all its freudian glory, also; there is a lot of that here too), Terayama seems to point to something beyond traditional psychoanalysis here. I'd argue it has also to do with the blurring of boundaries Terence McKenna was talking about, when linking the junguian archetype of the circus with the psychedelic experience: the concretion and even the enjoyment of The Other, its apparition within the grey margins of ordinary existence. The rough circus people, the bearded woman, the physical freaks, the exception to the norm which nevertheless exists, and in doing so subverts normalcy as fabrication. And, as Terence so well put it: all good-behaving and well-respected people in town would frown the circus people, which were ''not like us'', and ridiculed regular society with their jokes, their habits, their nomadic and uprooted (stressing: not permanent, defined) lifestyle. The people who never left Bakhtin's idea of what carnival is. Why do I expand on this? Because a circus features prominently here, as it does on Fellini's cinema; and To Die In The Country's circus would also become that of Suehiro Maruo's infamous The Girl Of The Camellias [少女椿]. But Terayama explores this theme of Otherness in deep, and goes beyond the estrangement and wonder of the circus, also applying it to his strange, theatrical characters; women in particular. From his idea of the mother (either angelic or demonic and frequently both) to his recurring panoply of duplicitous nature and behaviour (from girls turning into rapists, to their promises turning into luring traps or they in fact having both male and female characteristics). All in all, the film's context is deeply rich, and would not only demand an analysis of Terayama's reading of Vaneigem or Wilhelm Reich but also knowledge of Aomori and the history of modern Japan. Let us stop here though; we are not going to delve deep in the film, for this entry is about the soundtrack.
Pastoral's soundtrack was the third work assigned by Terayama to the effing legend Terahara Takaaki [寺原孝明], way better known as J. A. Seazer [J・A・シーザー] or Caesar. Terahara had somewhat of a mythological childhood and quite little is known about him. Apparently as a child he was a fervent mystic, believing he had a work to do, to create a world of his own, and would conduct himself as a monk; as many others during the sixties, this longing would eventually led him to drop out from society and become an erratic homeless futen. He grew the greatest hair a Japanese man has probably ever had, and apparently ended up in kind of desperate situations; according to Julian Cope's profile of him in Japrocksampler (2007) he attempted a double suicide with a girl who choose his same path, by drowning in the sea. That next morning Terahara woke up in the sand, and the girl was forever lost in the ocean, as it famously happened to Osamu Dazai [太宰 治] (1909-1948). After settling in Tokyo, he further became a homeless wanderer, living with squatters and pretty much by the day. Until he also became entangled in Terayama's orbit, who one day found him sitting on the street and, inviting him to some coffee, signed him up to compose a soundtrack for his project at the time, Heresy [邪宗門] (1972). Terahara answered him he had never played music before and had no idea on how to compose a soundtrack; Terayama's reply was ''Then you'll sure surprise me''.
And Terahara, now J. A. Seazer and integral part of Tenjo Sajiki (a troupe of otherness, the real concretion of Pastoral's imaginary circus) indeed surprised the world. Turned out his monk-ness was actually biographical, and he brought this ominous-sounding, deeply ritual and meditative approach of Buddhist sutra reading and shamanic inspiration, then mixing it up along with psychedelic rock, zeuhl influences and the Japanese traditional performative and theatrical arts (from musical declamation to noh theatre). The result is pretty much unique to this day: a hellish, almost diabolical atmosphere of chorals and spoken interludes suddenly interrupted by riffs, walls of guitar noise, ritual percussion and then folk instruments such as shakuhachi featuring in arrestingly beautiful passages. As Tenjo Sajiki's theater staging included live musicians performing in often bizarre, claustrophobic and almost uterine environments (until further experimentations with street theatre), J. A. Seazer's compositions were intended to be overwhelming, and shake the audience to their core along with the lightning, the clothing and so on. At their rawest passages they include screaming dialogue by the actors, another layer of dialogue from the choir (usually mixt, including both men and women) at the top of their lungs, an orgy of cymbals in the percussion department and a frantic electric guitar. It is a thing of beauty how none of these elements is monopolizing the tracks, yet their harmonic combination multiply each other to the point of becoming entrancing.
The entire audiovisual universe of 田園に死す takes place on rural Aomori prefecture [青森県], at the extreme North of Honshu's main island. It appears to take place on the early modern period of Japan yet it stresses the backwardness and misery of the rural setting; while many try to apply hermeneutics and psychoanalysis to Terayama's almost charicaturesque depiction of his natal prefecture, Mikiso Hane's history of modern Japan truly exposes how much of it can be traced to -even modern- History. Aomori's harsh climate, its sparse crop fields and its being surrounded by mountains made life quite harsh for its inhabitants, who resorted in more than one ocassion to things such as mass cannibalism, infanticide in the face of starvation or endemic illnesses. All kinds of popular beliefs were exclusive of this prefecture. Also, on its northern extreme, Aomori also hides a peninsula in the form of an axe, and beside Lake Usori (on the crater top of a mountain), lies Terror Mountain [恐山] and its Buddhist temple. Many of its traditions emphasize a direct relationship between the place as it is and the Japanese Buddhist Hell, with Sanzu River nurturing Usori's shore.
This imaginary context is necessary to understand much of the album at hand. Its themes are at times mythological, and both its instrumentation and voice overs reflect the aforementioned elements. As an instance, the first track こどもぼさつ [The Bodhisattva Of Children] is a mix of words in ancient Japanese or kobun [古文], almost a foreign language for most Japanese. Most of the words refer to legends or habitual cases having to do with the death of infants, and there are a lot. Seazer actually got children to sing the tune, and they did a pretty good job at it; the tempo of the song is that of a funeral parade, mainly relying on percussion and a subtle bass game. There are also a lot of traditional wind instruments backing the chorus, an ensemble featuring on much of the album. The next track is 謎が笛吹く影絵が踊る [A Mysterious Silhouette Dancing To Pipes], the most obviously circus-esque song of the album, featuring on the circus tent scene. Sang by the Tenjō Sajiki troupe under Saezer's direction, it combines both male and female vocals on a carnival-like parade song. Accordions, trumpets and barrel organs are among the instruments of this nevertheless somber and disturbing track, evocative of a damned circus troupe roaming the fields. Accordingly, the lyrics are also quite dark, comprising a lot of children games of the Edo/Meiji periods but adding infernal tweaks also. Overall is an hypnotic and intriging song, featuring much of the atmosphere only Seazer has been capable of conjuring. Then we move on to 化鳥の詩 [The Poem of a Transformation Into Bird], a wonderful spoken tale in the context of Pastoral the film (quite extemporaneous to the plot), and recorded by the actress herself. The story is a moving testimony of her life, and the familiar curse and regretment she felt after she moved to the city, leaving behind the farm fields her parents used to work until they died. The wonderful and passionate voice acting, along with a subtle, beautiful flute theme, is quite effective even for someone who does not understand Japanese. The subtitles for this part of the movie are universally inaccurate for what I've seen, so I may upload my translation one day!
We move onto 地獄篇 [Hell's Section], a somber theme fully reminiscent of Buddhist mantra yet nicely shaped with a high-reverb guitar. The percussion is also impressive, and supports an elegiac female voice amongst male bonzo-like humming choir. The song is quite short, and the lyrics speak of how this woman sees the silhouette of her dead child waving at her by the temple, at twilight (the Japanese witch hour). The next song is 母恋餓鬼 [The Preta Of A Loving Mother; preta being the Sanskrit term for an ancestor's tormented spirit]. Still haven't found the singer's name, but he does a phenomenal work in this track. Meandering and kind of desperate, the track builds upon a solid bass line, which inadvertedly does quite a lot. As many other tracks on the album, it relies in some traditional instrumentation such as the percussive hyōshigi [拍子木] and their mysterious clapping sound. The track is overall fantastic, catching your focus with its slow, cathartic tempo, and the high vocals it reaches are quite a feat. Next is 桜暗黒方丈記 [A Dark Chronicle Of Cherry Blossoms] which also involves a lot of religious, almost gagaku-esque [雅楽] references in lyrics and formal structure. It uses quite ceremonial Japanese and, all in all, its theme is matricide, surrounded with a lot of infernal references. At the very end and after the climax of the track, it transforms into a frenetic rush with, again, a circus demeanor.
The film's dark strain of surrealism may be best exemplified by the following song, my personal favorite: 惜春鳥 [Sad Spring Bird]. Terayama wrote it copying from the pretty much baffling poem by symbolist author Yaso Saijō [西條八十] (1882-1970), titled トミノの地獄 [Tomino's Hell]. Since this also became an urban legend at some point, I guess Terayama was onto something before his time. The short poem makes plenty of almost non-sensical, cryptic references to infernal condemnation and punishment; of course, the main concern behind the poem was an extreme exercise on stretching the possibilities of the Japanese language, to convey an array of emotions. Terayama borrows some of the verses and (very much in his fashion, once accused of plagiarism), utterly transforms them into his own to better fit his many obsessions. Then Seazer put himself at work to create a musical piece for the version. The result is majestic, solemn and full of grief. The female voice's expressiveness is utterly enchanting, and the instruments conjure an amazing build-up, leading onto something quite other. At half way the song, the lone lead merges into a mix chorus shouting the last lines of the poem over a strong percussive work. This songs features on perhaps the most iconic sequence of the film, which I won't spoil for you people.
短歌 [Tanka] is exactly that, a selection of tanka read aloud by Terayama himself, in his distinctive, almost shy voice and peculiar diction. The poems are those which originated the whole project behind Pastoral, and since they reflect the same universe, they are written in obscure old Japanese. It distinctively distances itself from the previous tracks, using a very western and modern piano as background. Inside the film itself, it would fit the 'meta' plot line of the director, looking back at his own childhood. Next track is カラス [Crows], sang aloud by Kan Mikami [三上 寛] with his own guitar as background. His performance is pretty much live here, without any arrangement and filled with pathos. The song is about a rural village filled with crimes and tragedies, from the perspective of crows floating around. Then 和讚 [Prayer] comes around, another track very much worth listening to for it most captures the essence of the album. The track is about the Dead Children's Hell on Sai No Kawara, at the shore of the spirit river Sanzu, where they build stone towers which are destroyed at night by the Hell's demon. Thus we have mythogical themes here too, and the instrumentation fully reflects it too. It starts with an ominous demeanor, by the solemn voice of a female storyteller. The language is pretty much shintoistic, referring how the song about to start belongs to another realm. Then it conveys the suffering of the infant souls, bringing back the children choir from the first track of the album. The percussion is key, and gets wilder every minute, taking the once meditative piece to exhilaration. Just as if it was either traditional theatre or a shamanic reenactment, this second act leads to a final third, depicting the release of the oni [鬼] rushing toward the children souls as soon as the Sun sets, and destroying their path to salvation. Instrumentally, this is absolute chaos, creating a brief catharsis and then releasing the raddest guitar solo of the album.
せきれい心中 [Cleansing The Heart] is a short and kinda unnerving melody by a female singer, backed by a flute melody. It calls out the spirits and demons, pacifying them. The atmosphere is sacred and playful at the same time, with a peculiar cadence as it brings the specters or yōkai [妖怪]. Last track is 人々はどこへ [Where is everyone?], a short of humoristic title in my opinion given its placement within the work. It lacks lyrics, being a choir tune reminiscent of pilgrimages or itinerant singers. Simple and recurring, it grows in strenght as it comes back again. It nevertheless presents a quite beautiful string work hidden behind the curtain of voices, and a full drum work towards the end. Its being a choir tune also mirrors the initial childrens choir, this time openly adult: male and female; this theme of one's own childhood as seen from the adult's perspective is one among the film's central themes, and thus I highly doubt this musical score by Seazer and Terayama features this peculiarity by coincidence. And well, so does this album, 田園に死す, reaches its end.
Seazer's music was pretty much underground material during most of his life, circulating on cheap tapes (ah, the 70s!) recorded under no easy circumstances; they lacked any kind of commercial reach aside from Terayama's troupe on-site tents after dramatic performances or film exhibits. Sadly, many of his projects have been lost to time, too. Working frenetic schedules he was able to provide tracks for most of Terayama's projects, and also to partake with other heads of the Japanese underground. These most productive years of his life allowed him, who had been found drifting on the streets without foreseeable future, to make pieces of musical genius; but a dark turn was right about the corner. Terayama's sudden death not only did force an halt on all his activity, but deprived him of an almost paternal figure. He despaired from a time before attempting to create his own theatre troupe, which he actually did while facing financial insecurity. And then he became renowned all the sudden, in the weirdest way possible: a guy named Kunihiko Ikuhara [幾原 邦彦] had just reached popularity by directing an anime series by the title of Sailor Moon and, remembering his own rebellious younghood during the seventies, offered him a contract for a soundtrack in a project called Utena, The Revolutionary Girl [少女革命ウテナ]. This has been considered the Japanese equivalent of someone hiring Psychic TV for a 90's cartoon. And it worked, beautifully; Seazer's work for Utena pretty much suited this psychedelic, experimental and gender-bending hit. The series themselves actually borrow from Terayama-esque elements, and their popularity at the time granted more people access
to Seazer's past, and that of the undergroud during the seventies. Fully reinvented as a musician, Seazer did not trade his quite peculiar (if not unique style) of mixing Japanese traditional/ceremonial music with choir music, rock and psychedelia, and he continues playing as of today. He has 71 years and continues playing on stage, doing tours and releasing music; the Japanese compilations of his theater works include dozens of track per album, of the arrestingly beautiful music he composed for many other projects. Hoping Terahara Takaaki stays with us for some years to come.
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