Halfway through the band's run, lead guitarist Shigeru Suzuki began to write his own songs. I think I remember him noting in a documentary that he was corralled into songwriting by Hosono's vision and not by any inner drive. But that's how it goes. Some people seem to be born writers (Neil Young, say, or Jason Molina) while others start with a random nudge and still end up becoming fantastic.
"His own songs," I said, but really it was "song." The band's middle record, the legendary Kazemachi Roman, had exactly one Shigeru composition. Then Ohtaki went off and made his debut solo album, which meant that, in effect, he came to the Los Angeles sessions for Happy End's third album empty. Imagine! A major member of the band having nothing to contribute! It'd be like — like Neil Young having hardly anything to do with a Buffalo Springfield record!
I adore Ohtaki (and that solo album rules) but I wouldn't want Happy End's third to have come into being any other way. If Ohtaki hadn't made the solo album, and if he'd come to Los Angeles with all those wonderful Matsumoto co-writes in tow, we'd have had another profound Hosono/Ohtaki/Matsumoto masterpiece, yes. But what we got instead was better, or at least, far less likely: a profound masterpiece of Hosono/Suzuki/Matsumoto provenance. Somebody had to fill in for Ohtaki. Shigeru stepped up.
His songwriting arc after flowering on this 1972 album was curious. Permit me to gloss it.
"His own songs," I said, but really it was "song." The band's middle record, the legendary Kazemachi Roman, had exactly one Shigeru composition. Then Ohtaki went off and made his debut solo album, which meant that, in effect, he came to the Los Angeles sessions for Happy End's third album empty. Imagine! A major member of the band having nothing to contribute! It'd be like — like Neil Young having hardly anything to do with a Buffalo Springfield record!
I adore Ohtaki (and that solo album rules) but I wouldn't want Happy End's third to have come into being any other way. If Ohtaki hadn't made the solo album, and if he'd come to Los Angeles with all those wonderful Matsumoto co-writes in tow, we'd have had another profound Hosono/Ohtaki/Matsumoto masterpiece, yes. But what we got instead was better, or at least, far less likely: a profound masterpiece of Hosono/Suzuki/Matsumoto provenance. Somebody had to fill in for Ohtaki. Shigeru stepped up.
His songwriting arc after flowering on this 1972 album was curious. Permit me to gloss it.
When Happy End broke up, Shigeru joined Haruomi Hosono for the Tin Pan Alley venture (1973-1978) as lead guitarist / all-around stringed-instrument maestro (banjo, mandolin, etc.), but — disappointed by the oddball exotica direction the leader's albums took after 1973's Hosono House — he returned to L.A. in 1975 to record his own solo debut, Band Wagon. Backed by members of Little Feat, he made an album so heavy on the rock and funk that it can be a trudge to hear in full. There are no quieter moments in which you can catch your breath. But the songs, taken individually, are as brilliant as the three '72 Happy End compositions would lead you to hope.
The hard rock out of his system, Shigeru made an exotica album after all, with Hosono producing: 1976's drifty, mystical Lagoon. He did a fair amount of production and songwriting work for contemporaries, that being Tin Pan Alley's modus operandi. And then, eschewing both rock and Hawaiian mysticism, he transformed himself into the soft rocking king of my heart. The arrangements on 1977's Caution!, 1978's Telescope, and 1979's Cosmos '51 (the last of which has, get this, Sakamoto keys and Takahashi drums) are not the kind of thing I would have imagined accompanying music I go apeshit for. Yet here we are.
In 1978, he contributed three instrumental songs to cult classic Pacific. His second album of 1979 (White Heat — again with Sakamoto and Takahashi, as well as former Tin Pan Alley bandmate Akiko Yano) was all-instrumental and brought his electric guitar back into focus. In 1985 came an album I haven't heard yet. Various collaborations followed over the decades but few songs.
The hard rock out of his system, Shigeru made an exotica album after all, with Hosono producing: 1976's drifty, mystical Lagoon. He did a fair amount of production and songwriting work for contemporaries, that being Tin Pan Alley's modus operandi. And then, eschewing both rock and Hawaiian mysticism, he transformed himself into the soft rocking king of my heart. The arrangements on 1977's Caution!, 1978's Telescope, and 1979's Cosmos '51 (the last of which has, get this, Sakamoto keys and Takahashi drums) are not the kind of thing I would have imagined accompanying music I go apeshit for. Yet here we are.
In 1978, he contributed three instrumental songs to cult classic Pacific. His second album of 1979 (White Heat — again with Sakamoto and Takahashi, as well as former Tin Pan Alley bandmate Akiko Yano) was all-instrumental and brought his electric guitar back into focus. In 1985 came an album I haven't heard yet. Various collaborations followed over the decades but few songs.
And that seems to have been about it as far as Shigeru the songwriter goes. But isn't that plenty? A decade stuffed full of incredible work? And with the lyrics to nearly all his songs penned by Takashi Matsumoto?!
Because that's the other thing to remember. Hosono started writing his own lyrics as early as this Happy End album (though he and Matsumoto collaborated on lots of hits for others, including this one for Yellow Magic Orchestra). Ohtaki made a habit of writing on his own too, before renewing his collaboration with Matsumoto in the '80s, for the revered city pop touchstone A Long Vacation and its sequel, Each Time. But Shigeru was the guy Matsumoto seemed particularly devoted to. I haven't dug deep enough into Japanese sources to figure out why, but even on this 1972 Happy End album, it's not that Matsumoto couldn't have written new lyrics for Hosono and Ohtaki, it's that he chose not to. "This time, only for Shigeru-kun."
[Edit, a month later: now I know why. Here's the story: early in 1972, Hosono decided to disband Happy End. They would go on playing shows for a while, but there would be no more recording. The decison broke Matsumoto's heart. Shigeru was aghast too. But the elder members, Hosono and Ohtaki (who was fine with the project ending), prevailed.
The twist is that the band's record company, Bellwood, desperately wanted there to be one last Happy End album, and someone came up with the idea of using a band trip to California as bait. "They'll definitely never record together again in Japan. But in America...?" Hosono, Ohtaki, and Suzuki were all on board. Matsumoto -- who was still depressed about the whole situation -- wasn't, but got talked into it. His caveat: "If we're gonna do it, you guys wrote your own lyrics. It's dumb to make an album after we've broken up. I'll just play the drums." Hosono and Ohtaki agreed, but Shigeru told Takashi that he wouldn't be able to write lyrics. "Oh, alright," Takashi relented. "If it's for you, it's fine."]
And so we have #3 Goodbye Street, one of three Suzuki/Matsumoto songs on the album. They are all three magnificent, by my lights. The horn lines at the end are probably Van Dyke Parks [actually Garvey Johnson, as I discovered later], but the slink and groove and sassy attitude are obviously all Shigeru. The contrast with the lyrics is so stark I wonder which came first. Way to adorn a relationship's deathly lull!
:::
Strange and unknown skies revolve around me.
The paint flows, lonely, off of winter's brush.
Words as bitter as "goodbye"
have occupied each street in town.
I'm waiting for you to remember
that you're capable of smiling.
And so we have #3 Goodbye Street, one of three Suzuki/Matsumoto songs on the album. They are all three magnificent, by my lights. The horn lines at the end are probably Van Dyke Parks [actually Garvey Johnson, as I discovered later], but the slink and groove and sassy attitude are obviously all Shigeru. The contrast with the lyrics is so stark I wonder which came first. Way to adorn a relationship's deathly lull!
:::
Strange and unknown skies revolve around me.
The paint flows, lonely, off of winter's brush.
Words as bitter as "goodbye"
have occupied each street in town.
I'm waiting for you to remember
that you're capable of smiling.
(Back to: List of Translations)
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