Issue #88: Lost Corner – by Ryo Miyauchi

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Among followers of Japan’s rap scene, “Team Tomodachi” immediately landed with a buzz as the return of the rapper now going by Yuki Chiba, who retired his former moniker KOHH in 2020. His comeback echoed the proto-crunk fight songs of late ‘90s Memphis from the ominous 3-note piano riff of its bare-bones trap beat to its mosh-pit chant of a refrain—Chiba’s own “Who Run It.” While his sleepy flow cooled the rally cry into more a low-key anthem, it wouldn’t take long for other rappers to heed the call. A couple months later, “Team Tomodachi” became bigger than just Yuki Chiba with it hosting dozens of rappers across Japan, answering from all four cardinal directions, just as he calls out in the hook.

The record eventually would spread far outside of Japan with the remixes and their music videos catching the attention of rappers all across Asia. Assembled crews from South Korea to China, Vietnam to Thailand, Malaysia to Indonesia recorded their own verses and filmed themselves gathered outside a local establishment: the Google Map location of a restaurant in Chiba’s original video soon became the official part of the full meme. More and more videos began to feature a mutual sentiment: you didn’t know there was a rap scene in my country? The “Team Tomodachi” remixes were no longer just a craze, now a platform to showcase local rap talent and their overlooked communities.

Inspiring a continent-spanning phenomenon, “Team Tomodachi” is easily the biggest Japanese song of the year. Though, Yuki Chiba’s original record that ignited the trend is hardly the best of its iteration. The best remixes digs out a better flow, lays out more creative wordplay and introduces a more appealing personality on the cypher-made beat. Above all, they call attention to the fact that the whole craze thrives on group chemistry and camaraderie, what Chiba can’t bring just by himself.

There’s been dozens and dozens of great “Team Tomodachi” remixes this year across Asia. Starting from its origin point in Japan, I wanted highlight just a few while hopping from country to country. Unfortunately, I can’t cover all of it—sorry to Taiwan, Thailand, Philippines, Indonesia, Brunei, Myanmar and others I missed. But here are some of my favorites and their cast of rappers.

You can check out this feature on its own separate page here.

Yuki Chiba capitalized on the craze inspired by his hit from early on the song’s life cycle, commissioning official locally-based remixes that covered a comprehensive range of Japan’s rap scene—hitting up, literally, as the rapper chants in his monotone, the West, the East, North and the South. 3liYen, Renee Couto and Charlu, though, remind of the most important group of folks that Chiba left out from his home country: the gyarus. While the beat takes out the first two space from their woozy digicore, their verses translate the brash attitudes of their own work; more the traditionalist with a pop bent, Charlu, meanwhile, goes even harder. But more than in-your-face flashiness, the camaraderie flowing in the cypher establishes the gyaru connection with the “Team Tomodachi” enterprise.

See also: “BL333SED” by 3liYen; “RockstaRRR XD!” by Renee Couto; “Perfect Night” by Charlu

With South Korea being one of the closest international neighbors, perhaps it’s not surprising that the first remixes I’ve seen from outside of Japan came from rappers based in Seoul. While the more established names stuck to the script laid out by the steely beat, the baby-faced rappers of SIK KOO—“the average age of our team is 20,” raps the collective’s Raoul, second in line here—sucked me in through their take’s scrappy rookie feel. The first-up, 200 especially perked my ears through her opening bar: “watashi wa meccha kawaii.” Her chirpy voice also reminded me of Yuzion, a favorite Korean rapper of mine, and it turns out she has made moody, Auto-Tune drenched bedroom-rap like her, too. That said, SIK KOO got a well-polished crew project under their belt, the Han: Cooked EP, casting a wide net of styles from jiggy boom-bap, hazy rap&B to garage-y hip-house. If anything, the remixes finding the kids catching a break, and letting themselves talk some shit.

See also: “Skid Mark” by 200, Koonminjae, SIVAA & YOSI; “Nightmare” by 200 ft. GOLDBUDDA

Many remixes came from the different regions of China, an amount maybe only rivaled by Myanmar or Indonesia. A lot of them opted to match the smugness of the beat, appearing rugged on camera as their verses suggested. So this lively ensemble of rappers from Chongqing was refreshing to watch in comparison to the countless cross-armed groups, even if a few members run with a hounding style similar to those other takes. One of the two here with a song I can readily find, BLACKSISTER, second up to bat, and her most recent track sounds like an audition tape for the ASAP Mob, from her barking flow to a trap beat with echoes of Three 6 Mafia. DonotZetah, the first in line and unofficial host of the remix, channels Cardi B with a snappy flow matching the voice. The four may act tough but they also bounce around together like they’re having the night of their lives—this may as well be the Chinese gyaru remix.

See also: “加把力” by BLACKSISTER ft. Xeezy Olatoundji; “红玉” by UKEYZ

It counts to get melodic over the Memphis-esque beat primed for metronomic double-time especially when a dozen crews press flows that are aggressive as it is percussive to flex an equally tough personality. These five from Vietnam stick out from the pack by doing just that, with a rapper like FluV free to switch to a more tuneful cadence mid-verse that echo trap crooners from the ‘10s. As if to seize an opportunity, the ones whose solo works bring more pop-juiced raps stack lyrical-miracle acrobatics: once seen rocking “Hotline Bling” energy, DVGKHOI crams syllables in syllables without breaking a sweat. Once he passes it to fellow rapper Rekkol, it pivots back to a melody-meets-bars direction that others could take notes from.

Tuju croaks the titular refrain basically as formality to warm up the posse cut, dying to just get into it already and tear apart the creaky beat. His raspy voice, though, appears well after his peers from Borneo have added damage from seemingly every angle. Airseeyaw floats like a specter with his ghoulish rasp, abandoning the beat’s metronomic lull; the members from the BADTHEHOOD crew then switches into gear after gear at whiplash speed. That said, Tuju still explodes with charisma, indulging in a Thugger-like croon one moment, tiptoeing across the beat with a whispered flow the next. When it comes to style, the Borneo remix features it in droves.

See also: “RISIKO” by Benzooloo, Ghidd ISOBAHTOS, TUJU, MeerFly & MK K-CLIQUE; “BAD NEWS” by BADTHEHOOD; “AIR” by Airseeyaw

Several personalities meet in the Malaysian gadis remix, each displaying her own distinct style without overshadowing her peers. And this boasts the most diverse set of artists here in this list as it cedes the floor to girl-boss MCs, R&B singers, brat-pop club heads, trappers eyeing Opium and artists lying somewhere in between. That said, the tight-knit chemistry despite the differences might be a rather natural outcome with most of them once crossing paths with another on a song or a rap-competition cypher. It brings a simple, infectious joy seeing them convene for a moment in the video, particularly for the chigiri hook where they get into improvised choreography all in sync. A showcase of both individual features and the strength of the team, this is the best remix out of the craze so far.

See also: “BEM CAMNE” by Tish Errda; “WUNNABE” by Yang Ummul; “xXXbraiinnssXXx” by Lil Asian Thiccie; “WELCOME 2 MY FANTASY” by SOPHIARAZK; “GLORY” by SYA ft. ASYRAF NASIR; “GELABAH” by Maruxa Lynd; “MEAN” by Bubu Natassia; “BNKR” by TUJULOCA; “WANTITALL” by Aliana Azizi ft. Bubu Natassia & Axel Jonas

Let’s blame not me working past deadline for the previous issue for this delayed issue. Let’s instead say last night’s Kacey Musgraves concert is at fault for “taking writing time away.” (Great concert, btw, finally got to see her after being a fan of her music for what I realized was 10 years!) The feature above took some time to finish, too, but it was worth pushing the issue back a day or two to get it done. It’s been an idea of mine at least since the summer to put it together, and now I can finally dig into it. Hope you like it.

Elsewhere, I pick a major pop album for Album of the Week, which I realize I actually don’t do very often, but I’ve been listening to their music since the top of the year, so I wanted to take a crack at it. And the pick for the Oricon column features a subject I wanted to challenge myself to write about. If it’s getting a bit self-indulgent, I assure at least the Singles section will be cater more for you.

Happy listening!

*Recommended track: “Kick Back” | Listen to it on Spotify

You’d think Kenshi Yonezu has become more an everyday presence by now. Whenever the singer-songwriter decides to appear on TV, however, it still causes a commotion despite him being the author and voice behind some of the most widely known J-pop singles of the past decade. He’s far from an enigma in conversation: in interviews, he’s open, cordial and so eloquent when discussing his own art despite the heady material. He simply seems too busy to spare camera time yet his presence continues to be shrouded in mystique, his public spots treated as an event: the creative genius has finally decided to step into the spotlight to offer his thoughts.

Yonezu’s songs aren’t also any more inscrutable than what charts on the Oricon these days. They can’t be even if he tried now at the level his music has elevated to this past half-decade. Go ahead and scan the franchises associated with the songs collected in his latest full-length, LOST CORNER: a NHK asadora, Chainsaw Man, Ultraman, multiple TV drama universes, Studio Ghibli. His solemn ballads nor reckless punk-funk, however, sound like a message in a bottle sent from above but instead a heart-share between you and I.

The impossible puzzle to crack isn’t his personality but the questions driving his songs. The feat of LOST CORNER is in how Yonezu shapes these reflections into something easy to digest while full of humor. Outside involvement of its attached media keeps his pop instincts in check yet it hardly tampers with his depth in perspective. Showing off the breeziest melody of them all, “Sayonara Mata Itsuka!” confronts the long, long span of a life while lightening the subject with levity in a manner similar to, well, an asadora. Instead of sugar-coating the madness from being bombarded with one tragic news after another, he doubles down on the over-saturation in “Mainichi.” “Meaningless? Pathetic? So lame? Pointless? / I already know, dumb shit, this is my every day,” he hits back through a stuffy lyrical cadence that mesmerizes with its rush. Anger flows from the verses, but the bouncy groove of the production suggests he will take it in stride.

Yonezu can indulge into nihilism as much as he can be sincere in his search, abandoning life right after he admires it. As it unfolds in his run of singles, recklessness in a song like “Shinigami” acts as a hard reset especially following a plaintive ballad. It also inspires some of the most colorful music, personality-wise. Driven by a ragged post-punk bass line, “KICK BACK” grants Yonezu an opportunity to transform into a snarling glam-rock frontman. Though stark in difference musically compared to “Mainichi,” in the body of LOST CORNER, the sardonic, punk reaction to meaninglessness shine as the different side to the same existential coin. “I want to be happy / I want to live comfortably,” he shouts to the tune of huge Gothic organs before turning back into a steampunk anti-hero in the chorus. Playing with the light or the dark, he’s fighting to fulfill the same basic desires. 

As inward as he indulges, his pursuit for answers constantly involves the second person, like a reminder that the passenger seat always remains open, perhaps to be filled by us, the listeners. It’s a simple gesture affirming he meets us eye-to-eye, sometimes leveling us to the same plane occupied by the giants of culture that calls for his music. He shrinks Ultraman to our size in “M87,” humanizing the lonely space hero as a figure harboring a familiar, painful loneliness. “Right now, don’t be afraid / Be the one who best knows pain,” he sings in the cosmic synth-pop. The hero’s grief can easily be ours.

His call-out to “you” in the new material for the album reveals a voice who’s more settled as he sits with uncertainty. “Hey, let’s go find it, my friend / dreams, hope, bad luck, frustration, everything /  we’ll deal it with it we go,” Yonezu sings in “Lost Corner,” and the peppy R&B production assures the journey will be a breeze. Charting his path here from the oldest songs, dating back to 2021, is to follow the steps of a songwriter gradually reaching this kind of freedom from constant questioning after knowing there’s no true answer. There are attempts to understand it in the total abandon of “Kick Back,” the futurelessness of “Mainichi,” the directionlessness of “Sayonara Mata Itsuka,” getting closer until he crashes in the emotional rubble of “Junk.” “Let’s go find what we lost, even if it’s nowhere to be found / we laugh that we couldn’t find it, the two of us, we’re junk,” Yonezu cries out in the latter ballad. He’s left with nothing yet so at peace.

A popular home to synthetic voices, Miku or otherwise, higma’s dreamy electro-pop is often teeming with life. “Nagai in Yoru” also skitters about, its beat slinking with a garage-esque rhythm, but the rising tremble scans as more a product of anxiety than it does excitement. The music accelerates until it reaches an uncontrollable rate in the chorus, where its fleeting sense of speed collides with somunia’s yearning for the end of an eternal night: “Hey, won’t you come here / Pull your hand closer,” she sings in the chorus, “and once this long night is over / will I still be alone?” True to its title, higma and their guest vocalist captures the mind stuck in one painful hour that’s at once uncomfortably fast and seemingly never-ending.

Listen to it on Spotify.

See also: “Samishii Wakusei” by mekakushe x Yuka Nagase; “NIU” by ueil & WaMi

Magnolia Cacophony borrow the voice of Kasane Teto to spark shoegaze magic, placing the rather delinquent Vocaloid in front of tidal, reverb-soaked riffs echoing the genre’s British canon. I’m tempted to reference For Tracy Hyde, though their lyrics often tapped into the bliss hinted from its chromatic sheen. As vibrant as their dream-pop sounds, the duo here instead let Tato express jadedness and eventually frustration from being cheated out of a brighter world promised from the seemingly optimistic music. “I’m OK even if it was all a misunderstanding / this world doesn’t need me anymore,” Teto sings during the song’s last moments, and the warbling voices quietly fades into the noise.

(come in alone) with you is out now. Listen to it on Bandcamp/Spotify.

See also: “COMET TAIL” by pear soda; “Akizakura” by SPOOL

While he occasionally teases out the funk as part of the trio KOMONO LAKE from their poolside R&B, SKYTOPIA grants himself the space to fully indulge in dance music through his solo moniker. “Eyes Open,” his recent team-up with frequent collaborator hayamie, finds him in a big-room mood, shifting focus from the junglist beatwork of their previous drop to bold synth leads. Their usual garage touch faintly lives on through its shuffling drums, wobbly bass lines and beat chops, yet the two aim to dazzle especially with its lead Dayglo riff that cascades the track with blinding color.

Listen to it on Spotify.

See also: “Wonder BCN” by Ko Yang; “Nika (Next Gear)” by Yamakagebeats

This section is usually dedicated to the Oricon number ones throughout the chart’s history, but for this issue, I’ll write about a hit that did not make it to the very top.

Highest position at #10 during the week of Oct. 4, 1999 | Listen to it on Spotify/YouTube

Since the turn of the century, Aiko has been most known for her dogged pursuit in writing the love song. Her best music taps into the intoxicating sensation that comes with falling in and out of love, and she often wriggles out a unique turn of phrase to express the feeling in the process. “Hanging down from the summer constellations and gazing at the fireworks from above,” the singer-songwriter goes in 1999’s “Hanabi” after breathlessly recounting one sleepless night. “This is how much I love you, and there’s nothing I can do.” Her lyrics overflow, the melody barely able to catch up with the speed in which they spill from her mind, and the perky groove of the song’s decadent piano-blues makes the overflow part of a bouncy high one wants to chase.

The song seems drunk in love, and its contact high is infectious enough to inspire curiosity about its roots. Who stole her heart, enough for her mind to run this intensely? What does she exactly mean by “hanging down from the summer constellations,” and how did she think of stringing those words together?

“The year I debuted, I experienced a lot of things for the first time, going to my first campaign, being invited on radio shows, getting many people to hear my songs,” Aiko recounted on radio program Good Neighbors in 2019. “But it was also so dizzying, my body and mind couldn’t catch up with what’s going. Every year, I would go see the fireworks with my friends from high school, but that year, I was too busy to go. I was in bed, wishing I could’ve went, and the moment I saw the stars from the slits of my curtains, the lyrics to ‘Hanabi’ came to me.”

In isolation, the titular refrain can be a simple wish to just fly away into the night and enjoy some fireworks. But Aiko twists her real-life sulking into the heart of a whimsical romance fiction, where her protagonist is head over heels to a nearly exhausting degree: “‘If you’re so tired, why don’t you rest a bit,’” she sings in the voice of a “winged angel with triangle eyes, who has come to tell news of love.” If it only was that easy to mellow out, the singer seems to say in response through the way in which she lets her verse unreel, like she can’t pump the brakes to her endless train of thought even if she wanted to.

Singing along to Aiko songs sometimes feels like even the singer herself is also trying to remember how it goes as she’s singing them. Her songwriting process explains some of the instinctual feel to her melodies. She starts with the lyrics first, then figures how to fit a melody into them. The latter always compromises to the former; the music will have to form around the words with her refusing to change the wording for the sake of a cleaner, melodic flow.

“I thought, ‘oh, I got a song,’ and I made ‘Hanabi’ that night right then and there,” Aiko continued on Good Neighbors about how inspiration fell to her after wishing to see the fireworks with her friends. How the lyrics rush out in “Hanabi” seems to retain this sudden spark, rhymes bleeding past the margins as if she had to continue on writing or else the drive would give out. As she attempts to capture emotion at its rawest state, the resulting guiding melody, too, ends up often being stillborn. The arrangement might sound contemporaneous with hits by other singer-songwriters of the time like “Marunouchi Sadistic.” But in “Hanabi,” Aiko bounces along in her own idiosyncratic rhythm, embracing the feels in a way no one else can.

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Next issue of This Side of Japan is out October 23. You can check out previous issues of the newsletter here.

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