Art of Noise -- Beat Box

 

I've already posted a number of Art of Noise articles in the past ten years as parts of the Reminiscings of Youth file here on KKP, and indeed, the avant-garde synthpop group consisting of Anne Dudley, Trevor Horn and all of the rest made up some of the most incredible collages of sounds to form music to add pleasure to my time in the 1980s. By the time that they came up with their version of "Dragnet" for the movie starring Dan Aykroyd and Tom Hanks in 1987, they were very much a welcome part and parcel of the decade's pop panoply.

However, several years earlier, I was honestly taken aback and maybe even somewhat intimidated by the Art of Noise when I heard their December 1983 debut single "Beatbox". It was nothing that I had ever heard before; they made this beloved song in the breakdancing world out of various sounds which emanated like and not like human voices screeching out a march alongside some pounding percussion and perhaps my first exposure to orchestral hits.

I've read and heard that there have been various takes (or diversions) on "Beatbox" on record and in music video. If so, then the music video below is the one that I've seen because I remember seeing that image of the London police officer getting duplicated and stretched out. It was quite the tourist video for London as well.

Among all of the diversions (I've seen No. 10), I think the one that I heard the most on radio was Diversion 1 which lasts more than eight minutes and finishes with a classy classical piano take on the core song. It's almost as if AON was trying to let us know that no matter all of the technology and sampling, music still comes down to a basic beautiful melody played out on an old-fashioned instrument.

So, as I said, "Beat Box" was released in December 1983. What else was being released in Japan in that month?

Yutaka Ozaki -- Juu-go no Yoru（15の夜）

Yoshie Kashiwabara -- Camouflage （カム・フラージュ）

Tatsuro Yamashita -- Christmas Eve

Ritsuko Kazami -- Karui Kankei（軽い関係）

 

The last time I wrote about Ritsuko Kazami（風見律子）, it was for the mysterious and panther-y "Yoru no Subete"（夜のすべて）from her 1985 debut album "Kiss of Fire". It has quite the bass synthesizer thrumming throughout the song which seems to have some of that City Pop and some of that throwback exotic kayo.

Well, another track from "Kiss of Fire" is "Karui Kankei" (Slight Connection) which takes things a little more into the blippity-bloppity technopop while filtering some chugging train-like jazz rhythm. Not surprisingly, words and music were provided by Haruo Chikada（近田春夫）who knows something about the eclectic stuff. Some nice harmonizing between Kazami and who I think is Chikada himself on background vocals.

Seiji Tanaka -- O Marijana（オー・マリヤーナ）

By Pudelek (Marcin Szala) via Wikimedia Commons

The above is a photo of Šarengrad, Syrmia, Croatia. If I'm not mistaken, I believe my English circle of well-to-do ladies took a trip to Croatia some years ago for about a week and found it wonderful. 

But that wasn't the only reason for me to post this particular photo from Wikimedia Commons. The other explanation is that I'd wanted to write about this folk song which was originally created and recorded by Croatian (formerly a part of Yugoslavia) singer-songwriter Vlaho Paljetak (1893 – 1944).

Now, to be honest, when I first came across "O Marijana", I had half-jokingly thought that we had a "Kusuri wo Takusan"（くすりをたくさん）situation here. But no...this has nothing to do with a love of a certain notorious weed but ardor for a beautiful lass by the name of Marijana. Covered by Nara-born singer Seiji Tanaka（田中星児）as his 6th single from 1976, the singer himself provided the Japanese lyrics. In a way, Tanaka's rendition reminds me of some of the music from Bobby Vinton who was popular in the same decade. The song was used as the theme for a TBS morning information program of the time called "Hachi-ji no Sora"（8時の空...The Sky at 8 O'Clock）.

Georgia On My Mind - George Yanagi & Ray Charles

Some songs are so perfect they feel timeless, “Georgia on My Mind” is one of those songs.

Originally composed by Hoagy Carmichael, the song became truly definitive through Ray Charles’ legendary rendition. There’s absolutely no way to improve on it. That hasn’t stopped countless artists from trying their hand at their own renditions, although one that stood out to me was the cover by George Yanagi (柳ジョージ).

George Yanagi was a Yokohama-born rock artist whose music clearly drew inspiration from old-school rhythm and blues, so it makes sense that he would eventually take on a classic like “Georgia on My Mind.” His version appeared on his 1989 album Good Times 3. It’s a decent cover, but its also very clearly modeled after Michael Bolton’s version from that same year.

What really caught me off guard, though, was discovering that seven years earlier, George had already performed the song live at his 1982 concert at Nippon Budokan in Tokyo—alongside Ray Charles himself.

Now that's much better.

And I’m not just saying that because Ray is there. I genuinely enjoy George’s raspy vocals, and I think he gives a stronger performance in this live duet than he does on the later studio recording. Plus I prefer the more orchestral arrangement here over the more pop sounding one. What’s funny is that, in the comments of the video, people who had the privilege to actually attended the concert mentioned that George seemed visibly nervous onstage.

I mean… yeah. He was standing next to Ray Charles, singing one of the greatest songs of all time. I’d be nervous too.

But honestly, I think he pulled it off. And from the sound of it, Ray seemed to enjoy singing with him as well. 

Let me know which version you prefer, and in the mean time check out George Yanagi's original music as well. If you're a fan of Blues Rock and Heartland music, his 1991 album, Raw,  is pretty good for that. And if you need something from his 70s output, You cant go wrong with his Rainy Wood classic, Weeping in the Rain

Tomoko Koyano -- Shiawase（しあわせ）

 

It was exactly two months ago that I posted singer-songwriter Tomoko Koyano's（古谷野とも子）most recent article and that was for her 1978 number "Shiawase Modoki"（幸わせもどき）which translates into "Fake Happiness". For me, it sounded a little bit ahead of its time and had quite some cool groove.

Well, her second single from April 1975 was "Shiawase"...just plain "Happiness", so I gather that the cynicism hadn't quite landed yet. Written and composed by Koyano with Ichizo Seo（瀬尾一三）providing the arrangement, "Shiawase" comes across as a languid and sunny pop song of the 1970s which brings to mind something that the Carpenters would tackle...that oboe in there always sparks off Karen Carpenter in my engrams. Plus, being early in her career, the singer sounds a little flightier and more uncertain in her vocals. Not sure whether "Shiawase Modoki" was meant to be her own response song to "Shiawase".

Special Favorite Music -- Hashire, Romance Ichi-go（走れ、ロマンス1号）

Wikimedia Commons

For the longest time, I'd wondered why these special Odakyu trains coming and leaving Shinjuku Station were called Romance Cars. I figured that they were popular with the young couples taking trips to the countryside, and as it turns out, I wasn't far off the mark. The Romance Cars contain what are basically love seats with no hand rest dividing the pair. Well, isn't that special? 

I think that's what the band Special Favorite Music was referring to as well with their March 2025 single "Hashire, Romance Ichi-go" (Run, Romance No. 1). In my last article on the band which I wrote up a couple of months ago, it was for their 2015 single "Gold", and in there, I'd thought about what the band would sound like now after about a decade and with all of the lineup changes they went through,

Well, as it turns out, listening to "Hashire, Romance Ichi-go", there doesn't seem to be too much change and that's not a bad thing. This particular song is quite the breezy pop number with the SFM strings coming in as usual. Plus with the marimba-sounding synth (or maybe that's a real marimba being played here) and the strings, there is a certain feeling of posh life. In fact, I don't know whether they'd intended to or not, but there's something with "Hashire, Romance Ichi-go" that feels like 1970s New Music.

Jenny My Love by Yōsui Inoue

Little Tokyo in Los Angeles has a rich history, and last year, one of its oldest businesses, Mitsuru Sushi & Grill, closed permanently following the retirement of its owner.

I had gotten to know the owner and his family pretty well over the years. Mitsuru may not have been the fanciest or trendiest eatery in Little Tokyo, but to me, it was the most peaceful — and perhaps the most authentic. The walls were decorated with old monochrome photographs of the neighborhood, Japanese movie posters, and vintage Asahi and Suntory beer advertisements. It felt like a place where time had slowed down.

Back in its heyday, Mitsuru operated as both a sit-down diner and a convenience store. In its later years, it had been reduced mostly to the restaurant side, though it still had a sushi bar. During its final weeks of business, I decided to pay it one last visit during one of my usual trips to the record store.

As a goodbye gift, I thanked the owner personally and gave him one of my own records: Sneaker Dancer by Yosui Inoue (井上陽水). He was so grateful for the gift that I ended up taking home ten bottles of sake and two shot glass collections in return. I guess he was a big Inoue fan — or maybe he was just touched by the gesture.

At that point, I had only just begun digging deep into Inoue’s discography, but Sneaker Dancer immediately stood out to me. Part of that was because half of the songs were arranged by legendary guitarist Masayoshi Takanaka, which was already enough to catch my attention. But the song that truly sold me on the album was “Jenny My Love” 「ジェニー My Love」.

Maybe it’s because I’m a hopeless romantic, but I’m a sucker for some good old-fashioned brokenhearted blues. There’s something funny, and strangely moving, about hearing the phrase “singing in the rain” delivered not with the cheerful, happy-go-lucky spirit of Gene Kelly, but as a loud, dramatic cry for help. With Inoue crying in the rain over a sad, one-sided love for Jenny, whoever Jenny may be.

For me is Takanaka’s emotional guitar solo is the glue that holds this song together, cutting right through the track and pairs beautifully with Inoue’s bluesy wailing, giving the song a sense of longing that feels deeply personal. 

In my personal opinion this song sounds best when performed live. My favorite being the version sung at NHK Hall on March 7, 1982. This version features singer-songwriter Kōji Tamaki (玉置浩二) , who would become well known as frontman of the rock band Anzen Chitai.