飛・び・ま・す was the debut album of Hako Yamasaki [山崎ハコ] (1957), born in Hita, Oita Prefecture. Her real name is Yasuda Hatsuko [安田 初子]. This 150cm tall girl suffering from chronic pancreatitis (which renders her unable to consume sake, tabacco or even coffee) shocked the TBS Radio Station with a surprisingly powerful voice, as she presented this very album on a live festival. As she got a contract for nocturnal musical sessions, as well as participated in full-fledged festivals and record releases (aside from personal theater pieces as essays), she was able to shine well up until the nineties, when the Japanese economic recession reached her office and put her on a forced hold until 2008. Nevertheless, Hako remained comparatively underground during those years, her popularity spreading around Yokohama (city for which she professes a deep love and composed many themes) and its surroundings. Known among her 80's fans as 'The Madonna of Nocturnal Sessions' [深夜放送のマドンナ], now her career is well-established and she, at age 61, keeps playing and recording.
A classic of the outsanding 70's Japanese musical landscape, 飛・び・ま・す constitutes an excellent introduction to Hako's musical approach. A brilliant singer and guitar player, these two resorces along with piano and string work are the main elements of the work. This album transforms sobriety into a supreme virtue: an entirely analogic production blending folk, jazz and blues with an arresting voice and brilliant arranges, 飛・び・ま・す is filled with melancholy and energy at the same time. Looking at the lyrics, prominent themes are time, nostalgy, nature and love. A 54 minutes-album, you can actually listen to the complete record right here.
I remember reading a passage from Keiji Nishitani that goes like this: we as children grab a piece of grass or a flower, hold it before our noses and think 'its grass' o 'its a flower', and wrongly consider that an understanding of its reality. It happens pretty much the same with music genres, particularly when it comes to Japanese music. Hako's particular blend may be considered folk, rock, psychedelic, jazz, blues and Japanese native singing; none of it really pierces a deeply personal style, carried out by Hako to this very day. Let's give a look to 飛・び・ま・す's songs and review them without further ado. The A side of the vinyl opens with 望郷, an excellent choice since it quite capturates a vital aspect of Hako's music: its fixation on remembrance and the sea. The song also is a piece on Yokohama, where she lived most of her life. It's a slow tempo, mainly consisting on guitar arpeggios and vocal virtuosism. Powerful and concise. さすらい is, on the other hand, a purely jazz theme, from vocals to piano instrumentals. It shares with the previous song the common conceptual theme of 故郷 [furusato] or 'place of origin', a strong undercurrent within Japanese cultural production which defines a difuse nostalgia or mourning for places -now either lost or distant- where one rose up and enjoyed childhood. The roots behind furusato nostalgy may lay in the permanent rural exodum to the alien and
indifferent big city, afflicting not only Japan but the late XX century in general. The traditional Japanese upbringing has also produced a bleeding distinction between an ideal and detached childhood and a frantic work culture in adulthood, that may also explain not only the prevalence of furusato themes since old but the contemporary escapism in Japanese pop culture. Now, theme 3 on the A side is かざぐるま, a guitar ballad hypnotic in its rythm and declamation. From a remarkingly low tone to soft whipering, Hako's powerful voice really contrasts with her small, slender aspect; the cycling rythm really portrays the title of the song, a small hand windmill (or pinwheel, 風車) also typical of childhood in Japan. It nevertheless has a somber and tragic imprint to it.
In 橋向こうの家 Hako's voice takes a turn to blues, even if the instrumentals (acoustic guitar and not a single thing more) are still quite in the folk vibe. Perhaps the most austere of the entire set, it could easily be a live performance without production (sans the studio quality). Hako herself played this track during the record sessions. The A side closes up with サヨナラの鐘, which strangely enough is the only track indulging in what one might call 'standard Japanese pop arrangements'; that is, the synth string layers and overall singing style -with a recurring chorus and some english- adapts Hako's peculiarity to a more broad audience. The most produced song, it nevertheless conveys the general themes of the album. The B side readily turns folkish again by means of 竹とんぼ, its first song. Pan flutes (very 70's, really) along with guitar and voice are the new elements it brigs with it. While there are not high peaks here, it's a pleasant enough track with interesting guitar works.
影が見えない is, as 橋向こうの家, a mixture of blues and folk, but enriched by more instrumentals, and its psychedelic electric guitar riffing brings it close to modern rock ballads in the line of the folk songs by Led Zeppelin and the rest. Unlike the previous one, it also reaches new vocal achievements, with a simply amazing ending. The rock and roll stays with the next, 気分を変えて, featuring a fast track with notable bass and percussion along; the overall performance, even live, is quite something. It is the shortest track of the entire album but also the most catchy and perhaps my favourite along with the first one. Next track, 飛びます['to fly'], is of course the album's name track. It shares style with 望郷 but incorporates traditional rock elements to it, even a solo. The general tone is farewell, a general impression enhanced by a fade out that carries forward the momentum of a final chorus.
The final regular track, 子守唄, is as austere as the most from this album, but takes the form of a iterating ryme, perhaps being the piece closest to the Japanese musical tradition. Short as it is, it's among the most beautiful songs in 飛・び・ま・す without a doubt. There is a bonus track, titled 男と女の部屋 [a room with man and woman] which also draws on the enka flavour of folk singing; I must say it constitutes an impressive feat the fact that Hako's voice also suits a musical genre so distant from blues or rock, with quite different tonalities and declamation. Her performance of this one is in fact way above average, and it's glorious to listen to.
We can only thank internet for the renaissance of 飛・び・ま・す and Hako in general, as it played a great role in her comeback during the 2000's and it exported a rare artist out of her natal Japan, where she has never been something of a super-star but rather an 'indie' beloved by a small yet strong base of supporters. Same as with Yoshiko Sai, Yoshi Inoue or Doji Morita, these artist were virtually unknown -even among contemporary Japanese- until the blogosphere started listing rare hits from the psychodelic years around the world, including Asia. Further years made them accessible by posting entire albums and even translating their Wikipedia articles, which they used to lack. The richness of those decades was not in vain, for now they are deemed classics and artists beyond their time, their records forever available. Hako also helps us to expand our enjoyment of traditionally western genres turned into something absolutely unique. While she has consistently preserved a 70's taste for live performance (usually her husband and her on guitar and mic, nothing more), her incursions into other genres has also been astounding. During the previously mentioned 90's recession, Hako found herself taking part jobs to survive and the personal fight for the rights of the now defunct label kept her away from the world of singing. Yet, ten years later she found out she could not live without singing so she returned to the stage, this time until she becomes unable to play due to age.
indifferent big city, afflicting not only Japan but the late XX century in general. The traditional Japanese upbringing has also produced a bleeding distinction between an ideal and detached childhood and a frantic work culture in adulthood, that may also explain not only the prevalence of furusato themes since old but the contemporary escapism in Japanese pop culture. Now, theme 3 on the A side is かざぐるま, a guitar ballad hypnotic in its rythm and declamation. From a remarkingly low tone to soft whipering, Hako's powerful voice really contrasts with her small, slender aspect; the cycling rythm really portrays the title of the song, a small hand windmill (or pinwheel, 風車) also typical of childhood in Japan. It nevertheless has a somber and tragic imprint to it.In 橋向こうの家 Hako's voice takes a turn to blues, even if the instrumentals (acoustic guitar and not a single thing more) are still quite in the folk vibe. Perhaps the most austere of the entire set, it could easily be a live performance without production (sans the studio quality). Hako herself played this track during the record sessions. The A side closes up with サヨナラの鐘, which strangely enough is the only track indulging in what one might call 'standard Japanese pop arrangements'; that is, the synth string layers and overall singing style -with a recurring chorus and some english- adapts Hako's peculiarity to a more broad audience. The most produced song, it nevertheless conveys the general themes of the album. The B side readily turns folkish again by means of 竹とんぼ, its first song. Pan flutes (very 70's, really) along with guitar and voice are the new elements it brigs with it. While there are not high peaks here, it's a pleasant enough track with interesting guitar works.
影が見えない is, as 橋向こうの家, a mixture of blues and folk, but enriched by more instrumentals, and its psychedelic electric guitar riffing brings it close to modern rock ballads in the line of the folk songs by Led Zeppelin and the rest. Unlike the previous one, it also reaches new vocal achievements, with a simply amazing ending. The rock and roll stays with the next, 気分を変えて, featuring a fast track with notable bass and percussion along; the overall performance, even live, is quite something. It is the shortest track of the entire album but also the most catchy and perhaps my favourite along with the first one. Next track, 飛びます['to fly'], is of course the album's name track. It shares style with 望郷 but incorporates traditional rock elements to it, even a solo. The general tone is farewell, a general impression enhanced by a fade out that carries forward the momentum of a final chorus.
We can only thank internet for the renaissance of 飛・び・ま・す and Hako in general, as it played a great role in her comeback during the 2000's and it exported a rare artist out of her natal Japan, where she has never been something of a super-star but rather an 'indie' beloved by a small yet strong base of supporters. Same as with Yoshiko Sai, Yoshi Inoue or Doji Morita, these artist were virtually unknown -even among contemporary Japanese- until the blogosphere started listing rare hits from the psychodelic years around the world, including Asia. Further years made them accessible by posting entire albums and even translating their Wikipedia articles, which they used to lack. The richness of those decades was not in vain, for now they are deemed classics and artists beyond their time, their records forever available. Hako also helps us to expand our enjoyment of traditionally western genres turned into something absolutely unique. While she has consistently preserved a 70's taste for live performance (usually her husband and her on guitar and mic, nothing more), her incursions into other genres has also been astounding. During the previously mentioned 90's recession, Hako found herself taking part jobs to survive and the personal fight for the rights of the now defunct label kept her away from the world of singing. Yet, ten years later she found out she could not live without singing so she returned to the stage, this time until she becomes unable to play due to age.
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