Japan is, without a doubt, my favourite country in the world. I’m lucky to have been about seven times before, but that was usually on tour, which meant I only really got to explore the area around the venue and the inside of my hotel room. About six years ago, I finally got the chance to do some real travelling around Japan. I was invited to Tokyo to produce a new EP for the band Luby Sparks. Once the session had finished, I spent a week travelling around Western Japan, stopping at Kyoto, Naoshima, Kobe, and Nara, before returning to Tokyo. Whilst it was a great trip, certain mistakes were made, from poor logistical planning to a lack of research. When my wife Anna and I started discussing potential honeymoon destinations, it wasn’t really a discussion. Anna had never been to Japan before and was desperate to go, and I felt it was my duty to provide her with the best possible Japan experience. After all, there really is nothing like that first ever trip to Japan.
Trans-Tokyo Express
We arrived in Tokyo at about 10am on a bright and sunny October day. Our first introduction to the music in Japan came on the Yamanote line into Shibuya. Anna noticed with surprise that a unique, four-bar piece of music played whenever we arrived at a station. The fact that there was music at all was quite a surprise, as in London we’re mostly used to being welcomed into each station with an austere and omnipresent ‘Mind The Gap’. In fact, most stations in central Tokyo have their own unique piece of music, composed by Minoru Mukaiya of the legendary Japanese Jazz Fusion band Casiopea.
Mukaiya, as well as being an incredible musician, is also an avid train enthusiast. He has visited every station in Tokyo, and has lovingly created a piece of music for each one that takes into account a variety of different factors; from the way the train enters, to the type of people that live in the area, to the overall atmosphere of the station. For the older neighbourhoods in Tokyo, Mukaiya composed melodies using traditional Japanese instruments and scales. For areas where there are a lot of students, he used more upbeat, pop melodies to appeal to a younger audience. However, there is perhaps no melody that perfectly encaptures the wonder and magnificence of an area quite like the melody for Shibuya Station. As we pulled into Shibuya and the train doors slid open, a perpetually rising melody rang out of the speakers played on a glass-like synthetic bell sound. It is the sound of excitement and anticipation building, of heads tilted permanently skywards, of thousands of lives intersecting with each other as they cross the Scramble Crossing. It is the sound of Shibuya, in just four bars.
Tower of Power
After we dumped our bags at the hotel and had a quick shower, we decided to head out and explore the area. There are a few spots in Tokyo I always like to take newbies; Meiji Shrine, Akihabara, and Harajuku to name a few, but the first stop is always Tower Records. London has a decent selection of independent record shops, but it’s nothing compared to this nine-story music megastore. London’s closest equivalent is probably HMV’s flagship store in Oxford Circus, which now sells more Rick & Morty merchandise than actual music. We headed for the glass elevator and pressed the button for floor six: rock. Despite its central location, Tower Records boasts an enviable selection of both new and second-hand records. A small display can be found at the end of each aisle, featuring a new release selected by a member of staff. One of my good friends used to work at Tower Records, so Yuck’s new releases would often get selected for the coveted display. The displays often feature new British or American indie bands, many of whom would have no idea that their music had travelled all the way to Japan. If I knew any of the bands on display, I would always excitedly message them and tell them to start planning an Asian tour.
The fact that Tower Records even exists is a miracle to me. Since the rise of the internet, file sharing, and of course music streaming, physical music has been dying a slow and painful death. While there is still a place for vinyl, it has transitioned into the role of merchandise; a tool for fans to signify their commitment to a band or artist (this sounds like the start of another piece). CDs on the other hand, have become increasingly difficult to sell in recent years, even though the profit margins are much better than vinyl, and arguably they are better for the environment. In Japan, however, it seems that both CDs and vinyl still hold pride of place in popular culture. Whilst vinyl takes up a healthy amount of space on floor six of Tower Records, a majority of the shelves are taken up by CDs. When I consider why CDs have managed to sustain their legacy in Japan, I can’t help wondering whether it is the result of a societal difference between Japan and the UK. In Japan, there is an inherent respect for tradition and ritual; from the way shrines and temples are embedded into secular life, to the way food is presented and prepared. Whilst we have our own traditions in the UK (cream before jam on a scone, never jam before cream), I can’t help thinking that we have a much more transient society, which has more recently abandoned tradition in favour of the excesses of hyper-capitalism. TL;DR, I miss CDs. Let’s make more of them.
Konbini Culture
We felt ourselves flagging as we stumbled out of Tower Records and back into the hustle and bustle of Shibuya, so we decided to seek refuge in one of Tokyo’s seemingly infinite konbini. The konbini is one of my favourite things about Japan (just knocked off first place by the Japanese techno toilets of the future). A far cry from Tesco Express, Sainsbury’s Local, or any of the UK’s spartan lunch options, the konbini has everything you might need to replenish yourself on a day out in the city. Beautifully prepared crustless sandwiches on soft white bread, a selection of fresh onigiri, and at the counter, a wide selection of hot food, from Chinese bao buns to chicken karaage. For dessert, there is a variety of pre-packaged sweets, from light and fluffy cakes to red bean pancakes (dorayaki). To drink, there are rows upon rows of canned coffee, bottles of refreshing green tea (hot or cold), and for later, a dizzying array of beer and canned cocktails. My favourite choice would be a salmon onigiri, followed by a fluffy cheesecake, and a bottle of cold green tea. As evening drew in, I would usually buy a small Suntory Highball (whisky and soda), and idly walk around the city, taking in all the sights and sounds.
There are three main konbini chains; Family Mart, 7-Eleven, and Lawson. Both 7-Eleven and Lawson were originally conceived in the United States, however, a 7-Eleven in California is a vastly different experience to a 7-Eleven in Tokyo. Konbini are designed to fit the needs of all Japanese citizens; from the busy salaryman who needs to fit in a quick lunch before a meeting, to the drunk student trying to assuage a hangover at 4am. Everyone has their opinions on which konbini chain is the best. I firmly believe that Lawson is the best, because after years of research, I have deemed their onigiris to be the freshest and tastiest. They even have a spin-off organic chain called Natural Lawson. However, all of my Japanese friends believe that 7-Eleven is the best, and to be fair, 7-Eleven is the only konbini where I could find my favourite fluffy cheesecake. Family Mart doesn’t often get a mention, perhaps because it’s too obvious, or its branding is slightly uninspiring. But what Family Mart does have above the rest is its notorious jingle.
This is the only clip I could find of the Family Mart jingle in the wild (I’m assuming no one wants to hear some weird bedroom remix). A quick look at the comments will tell you all you need to know about what this five-second melody means to people:
‘Who else misses Japan and listens to this every day?’
‘Thank you for this! This melody always makes me happy when I walk into a ファミマ :) I miss Japan so much!’
‘I really love this song miss Japan miss family mart miss travelling’
Much like the melodies heard on the Tokyo subway, the Family Mart jingle gives this konbini its distinct identity. Despite the fact that Family Mart is a huge corporate entity, the power of this simple, 8-bit melody makes it feel personal, nostalgic and sentimental to people.
As we continued our travels around Japan, which also included Kyoto, Naoshima, Osaka, Nara and Hakone, it was the music that accompanied us that always made us feel happy and at home. I only began to appreciate this fully once I arrived back in London, where daily life is accompanied by a much more austere range of sounds, from heavy machinery to wailing sirens. If the Mayor of London woke up one day and decided to give every tube station its own jingle, most likely composed by our equivalent of Minoru Mukaiya (Ed Sheeran?), I know for a fact that Londoners wouldn’t appreciate it, and would quickly grow even more irritable, if that’s possible. But perhaps there’s something we can learn from the traditions and wistfulness of Japanese life. And maybe, if we added a little bit more music into our daily lives, London could become a little less monochromatic and a little more technicolour.
I loved this piece. The ‘train music’ was wonderful— and the whistle-stop tour of Japan at the end. Made me want to go there.