I was intrigued but not persuaded. I was reading mostly fantasy to start with, then got deep into Japanese literature, and then the 19th-century Russians. Towards high school's end I clicked with Herman Melville. But it took me a while to get interested in what contemporary Americans, including Melville's disciple Tom, were up to. Eventually I read Vineland (via a lovely paperback edition from a secondhand book sale/fair at a library in the Colorado mountains) and adored it, and started right in on Against the Day, which was awesome too.
Internet searches for insightful Pynchon commentary brought me to the Fictional Woods, a literature forum where the talk was honest and the people curious and open-minded. There was a thriving music thread alongside the book talk, and in the autumn of 2012, a poster I trusted went into raptures about a new album by a band I'd never heard of, called Swans.
That album, The Seer, became an instant favorite, and it remains one of my favorite of all time. Wanting more where that came from, I was soon listening to lots of Angels of Light — and very soon I was listening almost exclusively to Angels of Light.
Half a year went by that way. But the Angels only put out five and a half albums, and I wanted more from the Gira of the era, and at some point began to understand that the Angels were only part of the project, maybe not even the main one. Most of Gira's attention in the decade between 1998 and 2007 was on Young God Records, of which Angels of Light were merely one act. The long, loving write-ups on his website (still one of the best places on the web) got me hooked on Fire on Fire, Akron/Family, and Devendra Banhart.
The Fire on Fire family became home to me, and probably 95% of the music I fell in love with between mid-2016 and mid-2023 was either made by or recommended by a member of the band. But all the while I was listening to tons of Devendra too, and investigating some of the acts that he called favorites. This included a certain Haruomi Hosono.
It was probably the release of 2019 album Ma that got me to actually torrent Hosono House and give it a listen — which is to say, attempt to listen, because I stalled at Rock-a-Bye, My Baby. It sounded too much like the old-timey Dylan songs on "Love And Theft." I might have tried I'm Sort Of too, and if I did, I'm sure I would have felt there was too much of The Band there. In any case, the album didn't take. But that first song or two did leave an impression. And I did think: "Someday" — someday I'd be in the right mood to jump in again and give the album proper attention.
A few years later, a Nick Reed blog post convinced me I needed to take the Yellow Magic Orchestra seriously (one can only see such a cool band name so many times before one caves), but I think some other piece of writing had also got me curious about Yudemen, so I thought, even though I've mostly grown out of the approach at this point, "Oh hell, I'll just go chronologically."
...and stalled again, inside Yudemen's psych-rock stew. It took me a few days to finish my first listen. But then, there at the end of that first listen, was the song Happy End (Continued). That's more like it, I thought. I looked up the composer: Haruomi Hosono. Well, all right then. Things seemed to be moving down the right track.
So I moved on to Kazemachi Roman. Bland enough on first listen too, except for that "momonga, momonga" song. I looked up the composer: Haruomi Hosono. Aha...
This was around September 2023. The same month, I got deadly pneumonia and wound up hospitalized for a week. Lying in bed in Xiamen's cozy Changgeng Hospital, I played Kazemachi Roman on repeat to the tune of a steady supply of morphine in my IV drip. Kazemachi Roman got supplanted by Eiichi Ohtaki's first record. Then by Happy End's second self-titled. And finally by Hosono House.
Which meant that there I was, four years later, listening to Rock-a-Bye, My Baby again. This time, it sounded like a stroll through the Garden of Eden.
And it still sounds that way today, even when all that's left of the sea of morphine is a dream as beautiful and as over as the one the narrator of The Rose and the Wild Beast really, really doesn't want to wake up from.
All of this to say: Haruomi Hosono's music is to the spirit as opium is to the flesh.
And also: long and winding are the roads of the soul. I have Devendra Banhart to thank for bringing me to Hosono — and Michael Gira to thank for bringing me to Devendra — and Fictional Woods poster Frunk for bringing me to Michael — and Thomas Pynchon for bringing me to the Woods — and my high school circle of precocious literati for bringing me to Thomas.
Beautiful are the roads, and blessed is the journey.
Finally — I love you, Haruomi, thank you.
:::
The Fire on Fire family became home to me, and probably 95% of the music I fell in love with between mid-2016 and mid-2023 was either made by or recommended by a member of the band. But all the while I was listening to tons of Devendra too, and investigating some of the acts that he called favorites. This included a certain Haruomi Hosono.
It was probably the release of 2019 album Ma that got me to actually torrent Hosono House and give it a listen — which is to say, attempt to listen, because I stalled at Rock-a-Bye, My Baby. It sounded too much like the old-timey Dylan songs on "Love And Theft." I might have tried I'm Sort Of too, and if I did, I'm sure I would have felt there was too much of The Band there. In any case, the album didn't take. But that first song or two did leave an impression. And I did think: "Someday" — someday I'd be in the right mood to jump in again and give the album proper attention.
A few years later, a Nick Reed blog post convinced me I needed to take the Yellow Magic Orchestra seriously (one can only see such a cool band name so many times before one caves), but I think some other piece of writing had also got me curious about Yudemen, so I thought, even though I've mostly grown out of the approach at this point, "Oh hell, I'll just go chronologically."
...and stalled again, inside Yudemen's psych-rock stew. It took me a few days to finish my first listen. But then, there at the end of that first listen, was the song Happy End (Continued). That's more like it, I thought. I looked up the composer: Haruomi Hosono. Well, all right then. Things seemed to be moving down the right track.
So I moved on to Kazemachi Roman. Bland enough on first listen too, except for that "momonga, momonga" song. I looked up the composer: Haruomi Hosono. Aha...
This was around September 2023. The same month, I got deadly pneumonia and wound up hospitalized for a week. Lying in bed in Xiamen's cozy Changgeng Hospital, I played Kazemachi Roman on repeat to the tune of a steady supply of morphine in my IV drip. Kazemachi Roman got supplanted by Eiichi Ohtaki's first record. Then by Happy End's second self-titled. And finally by Hosono House.
Which meant that there I was, four years later, listening to Rock-a-Bye, My Baby again. This time, it sounded like a stroll through the Garden of Eden.
And it still sounds that way today, even when all that's left of the sea of morphine is a dream as beautiful and as over as the one the narrator of The Rose and the Wild Beast really, really doesn't want to wake up from.
All of this to say: Haruomi Hosono's music is to the spirit as opium is to the flesh.
And also: long and winding are the roads of the soul. I have Devendra Banhart to thank for bringing me to Hosono — and Michael Gira to thank for bringing me to Devendra — and Fictional Woods poster Frunk for bringing me to Michael — and Thomas Pynchon for bringing me to the Woods — and my high school circle of precocious literati for bringing me to Thomas.
Beautiful are the roads, and blessed is the journey.
Finally — I love you, Haruomi, thank you.
:::
Humming an old melody...
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Slipping into a gorgeous dress...
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Don't cry anymore!
Dinah, we'll be together
from now on
and forever.
You look so lovely, and as for your lips...!
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
What an odd song this melody makes for...
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Don't cry anymore!
Dinah, we'll be together
from now on
and forever.
The weather's cleared up
and now the sky looks so blue.
The flowers are in bloom all around.
The breeze is so soft.
You can hear the birds warble.
Come nighttime,
we'll gaze at the blue moon.
Humming an old melody...
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Slipping into a gorgeous dress...
Rock-a-bye, my baby.
Don't cry anymore!
Dinah, we'll be together
from now on
and forever.
:::
P.S. There's an awesome lounge/reggae remake on Tin Pan Alley's second album; drummer Tatsuo Hayashi, who was in charge of the arrangement, wanted to pay tribute to Percy Faith. Key take-away: the harmonies!
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