Words by Matt Dursum
Photography by Yaron Ptashnik
Music goes hand in hand with many life events: romantic courtships, solitary moments, and, of course, adventurous road trips through exciting new landscapes. Music is the catalyst for memories. At least it is for me.
I lived in Japan from 2009 to 2013. Not big-city Hello Kitty, sprawling neon signs Japan, no. I was in the boonies. In the small and charming coastal community known as Minami Kyushu City.
The city was really a political conglomerate of small villages. I was one of the board of education’s foreign English language teachers, in charge of bringing native English to children and adults.
My other duties included weekly adult English Conversation classes and the occasional city planning and disaster response run with my bored colleagues in the other civic departments. In the summer, during typhoon season, when there was nothing else to do, I even got paid to go surfing so my boss could try out his new camera.
Yes, I was fortunate, but I worked hard. I gave 100% into my job and 110% into learning Japanese after hours and at home. When I needed to de-stress after work or just take a few hours for my mental health, I prepped my playlist, got on my bike, and rode into the countryside.
Music wasn’t just relegated to peddling around. Any road trip or long commute needed a playlist. For surf trips or commutes to work, the following artists serenaded my experience of traveling through the narrow roads of the Japanese countryside.
DJ Krush
DJ Krush, aka Hideaki Ishi, has been at the center of Japanese Hip-Hop since his debut album Krush was released in 1994. The Tokyo-born turntablist got his start in the early ‘80s after quitting his career as a member of the yakuza after finding his friend’s severed finger neatly wrapped in a handkerchief. Inspired by American Hip Hop, he decided to pour everything he had into making music.
In my opinion, no artist bottles the sounds and moods of Japan better. From atmospheric melodies to break beats interspersed with traditional kabuki-style vocals and acid-jazz, Ishi seamlessly crafts infinite worlds in his music that take the listener to places unknown. Ishi is also the perfect entry point to other incredible international artists who he features on almost every track.
Wu Tang Clan
Foreigners living abroad find various outlets to remind themselves of home. I took comfort in the Wu Tang Clan. There are few moments in life more enjoyable than passing by hanging daikon radishes and tea fields while the RZA, the GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, Raekwon the Chef, U-God, Ghostface Killah, and M.E.T.H.O.D MAN plays in the background.
From their 1993 debut Enter the Wu Tang (36 chambers) to solo projects like GZA’s Liquid Swords and Method Man’s Tikal, Staten Island’s greatest exports brought me back to the US when I needed it the most.
King Giddra and K Dub Shine
I was given the soundtrack to Kyoki no Sakura, one of my favorite Japanese cult classics, on vinyl for my going away party. I teared up when my friend handed me his personal collection.
King Giddra was one of Japan’s first Hip-Hop supergroups. Their raw sound and intensity was unique and thanks to the lyricism of members K Dub Shine, ZEEBRA, and DJ Oasis, the group inspired Japanese rappers to become more political and critical of society. Although K Dub Shine became increasingly more nationalistic in his message, his voice, cadence, and overall sound are hard to ignore.
Fever Ray
The self-titled debut album from Swedish artist Karin Dreijer became my hypnotic portal into the loneliest parts of the Japanese countryside. Although little of their music screams Japan, Fever Ray’s tracks summarized what I was seeing and experiencing like nothing else.
Dreijer became famous for performing with their brother Olof as the duo, The Knife. Taking a break from recording with their brother, Dreijer released their debut in 2009 to critical acclaim. For me, its eerie simplicity, complex textures, and inward looking lyrics about place and childhood were like a warm blanket for me as I drove or rode my bike through the sometimes gloomy sub-tropical landscape. These are sounds that, over a decade later, still bring me back home, to that small corner of Kyushu.