Fuji and Chama in Kindergarten 3 page

You made your decision based on the notion that you may die the next day, but when you were thrust into reality you thought it might be the end?

Yes, I began to think that at the moment when I was granted the freedom to do whatever I wanted; that ideal I had always hoped for. Because being free is very scary, it’s lonely; you need resolve in order to do whatever you want. When I went through that I truly felt it. That I had been living life up until that point without thinking… But, I had vague intentions of leaving behind proof that I was living. If I thought about what I liked, it was of course music. I would be touching my guitar without realizing it, even skipping work sometimes. My friends would worry about me and come to visit, but it also felt like I was left out a little bit. I worked forever to write Glass no Blues. I took my time. I spun it together one phrase, one word, one note at a time. When I finished it, it was my first Japanese song. It was from then on that I had any sort of conscious feeling regarding my own music.

In short, before you wrote Glass no Blues, you had hit rock bottom?

Yes.

Had you been living under the assumption that you only had two choices- to be connected with people through music or to think of your life as over?

I didn’t know who I was. I was thinking all kinds of stupid things, like if it was better to keep living or not. Now, I can laugh at myself from back then. The me who wanted to do whatever he liked but was hesitant to do anything at all. The me who thought his life was over when he ran out of gas. When I recovered my resolve, I still thought about whether or not it was the end, but it was like I was given a little more gas, because I had the will to replenish it. And I was able to. By writing Glass no Blues I gained self-sufficiency. That was what I had wanted from the beginning. I’ll remember it all my life. There aren’t many things I can say I won’t ever forget. I thought I had finally done it. In elementary school, in middle school, in kindergarten even, I had the feeling that something was off. All 16 years I had been living without knowing. I recalled all of the time I had spent in ethics and other classes like it. Looking back now, I was feigning innocence when I attended that middle school. For me, it was a dark school. There were a lot of fun times, I had a teacher I want to see again, and I’m in a band with the friends I had, so I did gain things from it. Even so, I’m not certain if the person who went to that school was really me. I was myself in kindergarten and elementary school, but when I was myself I was rejected. The things I did that made me me were rejected. I understood that and was able to get along in middle school. Although I wasn’t rejected in high school, I behaved more faithfully towards myself… I asked myself, “What’s left? I guess I am. But who am I?”

Why didn’t you choose to continue to feign innocence?

Maybe I should say I tried to fit in instead. No, it was because I joined the band (laughs).

The correct path for you, the one you always return to, has always been the band. You could say that the wall you hit before you wrote Glass no Blues was a wall you needed to hit.

Probably. I certainly would’ve hit that wall at some point. That time would’ve come. I thought that for some reason or another… Yeah, I felt that way since about sixth grade, and in middle school, I tried to gain control of it. I tried to fit in. I tried one more time (laughs).

I see. And from then one, as someone who makes music…

Then I became a musician.

I think that the lyrics you wrote in your early days had a theme of recovering something; for example, “I can’t forget the smell of the dandelions” and “The sunset on that day I was smiling.” When you started writing in Japanese, did you want to recover, or never forget, those memories and that scenery?

Not the times and places, but the feelings.

What kinds of feelings?

I don’t think I can say. At first I just gathered together a bunch of fragmented pieces. It was that kind of work. And then it was around when I started writing for Jupiter when I realized that they weren’t fragmented, but had always been there.

So for Flame Vein and The Living Dead you worked with those pieces.

As a rule, I can’t say definitively, but that was probably how it went…yeah. I feel like they were the parts I was consciously aware of, taken from a larger body of feelings accumulated over time, or that I had taken those feelings and shut them away somewhere, and then forgotten where I put them…probably something like that. You could say I collected them up and sorted them out – I recovered them. All my life has felt like a gamble (laughs). Because of that, when my compulsory education ended I quit. I had been endlessly wandering about without being able to stop. When I quit high school and my parents told me they would consider me an independent adult, you might say I had nothing to fall back on, but I think I did. When I was in a particularly bad spot my parents would help me. Because they’re really kind people.

You opened the lid to the gambling box yourself?

Yeah. Haven’t I been doing that for a long time; even now? I throw the dice and see how they roll. They only take two or three seconds to settle, but it’s like those two or three seconds spanned my entire life. The moment I quit high school was when I threw those dice. And at any rate I wanted to sing. At any rate I wanted to put into words the things that needed to be put into words. I wanted to make songs out of them.

Are you the type of person who considers believing in something to be strength?

My own strength when I have something to believe in? The strength of belief? The strength of action? I think so.

Have you always been conscious of that? Or did you realize it after you started to write music?

From when I started writing music. I realized how much the other members, the listeners, the songs, believed in me. It was like it was perfectly natural that they would. I don’t think it’s blind belief, though. Whatever happens, I know they’ll believe in me, so I have the ability to persevere.

I think your songs often carry messages. When you were a child, living only as you knew how, I don’t think that you intended for that itself to be a message. But you lived in a way that was very consistent with your beliefs, and as I listen to you talk I can’t help but think you spin a consistent message to go along with that. The ethics class example fits in with that. I wonder why your lifestyle carries those kinds of consistent messages.

It’s because I bump shoulders. I bump shoulders a lot. It’s because there are times when I’m not forgiven even when I apologize. When I’m grabbed by my collar I can only try to talk, to convey a reason. It’s because I’m constantly being grabbed by the collar. Although I’m not sure who it is grabbing me. I feel as if it’s myself sometimes.

So when you turn outwards and resiliently release a message, you’re being grabbed by your collar?

Well, I don’t know the extent of the resilience, but I do thing music carries meaning, really. It’s just a way of living and… I don’t ever intend to send a message. In this interview all I’ve wanted to convey is that I’m thankful, but I’ve only been reflecting on the past and talking about my history. I don’t feel like I’m imparting a message because there isn’t anything in particular I want to convey through that. But now that you mention it, I can see how it can be a message. Take the teacher who called on me in ethics even though she shouldn’t have. I wonder if I was able to convey a message to her. All I am is me. If I’m to put it crudely, you ask so I answer.

There are people who would react negatively to feeling that they’re bumping shoulders or being grabbed by the collar, aren’t there?

There are. I might be bumping into them.

How do you perceive the feeling of living while bumping shoulders? Affirmatively, negatively, or neither?

Setting aside who I’m running in to? I’ve always wanted to avoid it, if I can. I don’t want to hurt anyone or anything (laughs). But that’s impossible. It’s impossible from the moment you’re born. Even so, it’s not always good to apologize. There are times when I feel that both sides are hurt, so there’s nothing to be done about it. Even when the other person is seriously hurt, all you can do is apologize. You might prolong it by thinking about how forcefully you bumped shoulders, and how incredibly hurt the other person is. It’s not negative or positive; it’s just reality.

Ok. I think we’re going to wrap it up.

Ok. I have one more thing to add. This was supposed to be a 20,000 character interview but I hope you’ll let me go over a bit. As I was talking I was thinking about how a long song is five or six minutes, and a short one is three or four, and how everything has to be packed into that small timeframe. And I thought how… how everybody has times when they feel empty, and times when they feel full, and when that happens something takes form and remains in you. In my case it turns into music; for other people it’s expressed in a variety of different ways. That’s just what I was thinking (laughs).

Thanks for your hard work!

Thanks!

After Junior High

F: At the time of the competition I had already quit school a while ago. I quit in the summer of first year… I felt empty. I had been skipping cause it was too much trouble to go. Us, we all laughed together, Bump of Chicken. We talked about what we saw on TV yesterday or what happened in town, and we shared a lot. I wanted to do the same at school. But when people at school talked they would be flipping through vocabulary flashcards. When I entered school, all of a sudden I was pestered to choose a college I wanted to go to. I didn’t see what was so important about it. So even if I did end up going to class I would sleep. I did have some good friends. And there were the guys who formed a band who I was a helper for. That’s pretty much what it was like for me. If people heard me singing they would tell me I was really good. But that was the extent of it; I never thought much of it. When I was told I would have to repeat a year because I was absent so many times, the only option left for me was to quit. I asked myself what I would do if I quit – I asked myself but my parents also asked me. I said I would focus on the band, but there was a part of me that doubted that. But in the end, I quit…Yeah. I died then (laughs). Or should I say, I had one foot in the grave. After I quit, you guys all came to my house, taking turns.

C: We had a rotation.

F: In rotation. Occasionally all together. “Are you looking for a job?” “No, not really.” “Look for one already!” “Nah, it’s too much trouble.” I wished you would just leave me in peace. I practiced guitar. Sometimes I would meet people, but… I didn’t really know what I was doing.

C: We were doing the best we could. We were only 17 or 18, and we were already deviating from the normal path. Although I was a little more unique…When I was in eighth grade I clearly understood that we would debut, and how it would be. So in ninth grade, I struggled with what I thought was contradictory. Like, why did I have to study? There was no need for me to go to high school. I really thought it was useless. I talked to my dad…I told him I was following my own path, and he said there were conditions that had to be met if that’s what I was going to do. He said I had to get a chef’s license and take university entrance exams by the time I was 18. Then I could do whatever I liked. Unlike Fujiwara, this was a perfect goal for me. If I could do this, then I would be free.

F: They were after you to take over the restaurant.

C: Yeah. That was my grandpa’s wish, and I had been hearing about it since I was a baby. You could say I betrayed that wish –

F: You said you wanted to make the band work, but on top of that, you were really prepared to put in the effort.

C: Right. I struggled a lot with me, on one hand, wanting to do the band, and my family’s wishes on the other hand. In the midst of all that, Fuji-kun wrote Glass no Blues.

F: Glass no Blues I wrote very slowly.

C: At that time everyone was doing their own thing. Hide-chan and Hiro were in school, and I was studying for my chef’s license and the entrance exams. I was feeling all sorts of things and it was super confusing…But I was optimistic.

F: What I remember is that you three came over, and we played video games and talked. I slept (laughs). I spent my days looking for a job, finding one, and then quitting because I couldn’t cooperate. In one day, or sometimes I would last a whole week (laughs). I had about four of them. Everyone was really pleased when I found a job, and then really worried when I quit (laughs). But still, I wanted you to leave me alone. It was around then that I first started thinking about how stupidly insignificant my existence was (laughs). I felt it was very shallow. It wasn’t a problem of size. It was a problem of thickness. It was really thin. So thin it was almost transparent. It was that kind of existence. Did I exist? Did I not? I didn’t have strong feelings either way. I wasn’t thinking, “Whether I exist or don’t, I’m worthless, woe is me,” I just knew it to be true. It surprised me. During that time I wrote one line a day, for Glass no Blues; strung together the chords and the melody. I took plenty of time writing it. I never was conscious of the fact that it was reflective of the future. I had a vague idea that when I finished this piece, there might be something following it, but instead of thinking that I would be able to eat due to music, it was a more primitive thing. Looking back I think I might have wanted to express myself. Not, “this is fun!” but “this is me,” like making an ID card. At school they distributed instructions for making ID cards, and I think there were many students who displayed their face on their possessions. I feel like I was exactly like that. But somehow…I was reflected in a mirror that someone had prepared, and I showed myself to others. It was very external. If you went inside a bit more, there weren’t any mirrors. So, I made one.

H: I often went to Fujiwara’s house; I was worried. Because…he was always at home.

F: I couldn’t accept that. I was happy I had friends, but I always tried to hold them at arms’ length. I didn’t want you to get too close to me, but I didn’t want you to go too far away. I was a huge burden, wasn’t I (laughs). Still, I went to Tuesday practice.

M: Well, it wasn’t really a practice (laughs), we just hung out. We got together and play or do other things. Getting together was the most important thing. We didn’t think of it as rehab for Fujiwara back then though.

H: Yeah, we weren’t conscious of it.

F: It never occurred to me to try and rehabilitate. I just ran away. Took refuge somewhere else. I fought the idea of rehab. That word just wasn’t right. You might say I had become useless…And I was useless, but I had written Glass no Blues, little by little. I had not one ounce of self-awareness, though. I didn’t have anything to do, did I. Nothing to do. I was empty, seriously (laughs)…That feeling of nothingness was staggering. I think Glass no Blues was my reply to a world that had rejected me once before…It was a loving feeling, surely. It was directed at my puny existence, also…I was looking at things from the wrong direction, and I couldn’t fix my line of sight. Although that may still be true today. The things reflected in my eyes, the things I felt – I was thinking of them from the wrong standpoint, albeit sweetly. At the time I tried to reject that. But of course that would be rejecting myself. In that way completing Glass no Blues saved me. When I finished that song…I resolved to keep on living. Haha. No matter what kind of shape my life took, at least time would keep on moving and I would keep on breathing…Then, I brought the song to show you. Not, “I finished a song!” but “I finished one song.” (laughs).

C: You acted like it was no big deal. But it was the first…in Japanese.

F: Yeah. The fact it was in Japanese carried a lot of meaning. I definitely think so, but I’m not sure why I wrote it in Japanese. Probably because of what that person from that label said to us [TR: that they should make Japanese songs and try to become a success nationally before trying to go international with English songs] …There are a lot of keywords in that song. I was already practically breathing those keywords. I knew I wanted to write lyrics. The English songs were purely excitement. Although they did have some sort of story or theme. But they weren’t that big a deal. They were only “I’m angry” or “I’m having fun,” that sort of thing. I don’t really have anything against that, even now (laughs)…When I showed you the song, each of you had a different reaction. “It’s a good song”…Not “It’s a good song, it’s fun, it’s cool,” but just simply “It’s a good song.” You’d say, “It’s a good song,” and then there’d be a short silence and you’d say, “Yeah, it’s a good song.” (laughs). That might have opened a new door. I think it was the song that…There was a coffee shop I’d always go to. I wrote a number of stanzas there…That’s right, and then the four of us made a demo tape, a four track MTR. It had terrible sound (laughs) but I would put it in my Walkman and listen to it. Anyway, I went to the coffee shop, and read a book or something, and some shady-looking guys came in after school ended. “What’re you listening to?” “The other day we wrote a song, so I’m listening to that.” “Gimmie it,” they said. Honestly it was a little embarrassing. In those days melodic hardcore was in its heyday, and everyone was listening to The Offspring. Skater culture had just come to Japan. Everywhere you looked it was just guys in skater clothes. They were all great guys though. So, in other words…Glass no Blues would fall into the pop category, I think. I didn’t know how they would receive it. Telling them they didn’t have to listen to it seemed a little… (laughs). For me, having someone listen to it was extremely monumental. They said it was really good. They said, “I can’t believe you’re thinking about these kinds of thing, I got goosebumps.” “I was worried about what I would do when I leave school, but now I feel a little bit better.” That was a huge deal to me. That Bump of Chicken back then said it was good is symbolic of how we are now, but the reason we made our debut – the reason we made our debut by just enjoying music, was that moment. It was a really pleasant feeling. That I was able to reach someone. That those guys told me that I was able to express a feeling they themselves had, but were never able to put into words. I was super happy. Conveying something through music…When I made Glass no Blues, I thought of it as just a song, transcending the arrangement and the culture. It was the song that was important, not the arrangement or the culture or the time period, which I was happy about.

H: The first time I listened to it, I only thought, “I get it.”

F: That’s right, the first person who listened was Masukawa. Did I play it on guitar?

H: Yeah. I’m pretty sure I was looking at it on paper while I listened. It was Japanese, so I could understand. I thought it was amazing. That was the first time.

F: I was surprised.

H: That’s right, you were.

F: I was surprised that you said you understood; that you understood me. It was like a new world.

H: Of course I thought it was really good, so I said so (laughs).

F: Hahaha!

M: The reactions from other people were very different. To us, it was just another song, but other people wanted to listen to it over and over. I also thought it was amazing that something we did reached people.

F: To the extent that it was a little uncomfortable.

C: There was a girl I liked, back then.

F: Oh yeah, there was.

C: I was surprised when she liked it. Up until then she had always wondered what the hell we were doing (laughs).

F: There were a lot of people like that (laughs).

C: Although they did want to hear more of the vocal’s voice (laughs)…But then, they started saying that it was really cool that we were making music like that.

F: Then we tested ourselves. We played Glass no Blues at another competition. And we ended up with an overall victory (laughs). We surprised ourselves. It was a high level competition, with high quality bands. It was called the New Sensation Audition, but it was really a major debut audition. The finals were national and people in the industry would be attending, so there were a lot of guys who were serious about it. But us, we never talked about trying to make our debut there, at all. We might have had a fuzzy idea that we would be able to make a living off of it if we won, but firstly we were testing ourselves. With that attitude, we advanced a level, and another, and another, and we ended up in the finals. Was it at Tennoz Isle? It was in some really big building. At that time…I thought the other groups looked like they were really good (laughs). Everyone was smartly dressed, everyone was good.

C: I was surprised that they had a change of clothes for performing. Also that they had gelled up their hair.

F: We just wore whatever we happened to be wearing that day. We didn’t even bring effectors (laughs). For Glass no Blues you kinda want to have some distortion. But since we didn’t have them we just played it all in clean tone. It sounded kind of new-wavey (laughs).

C: Without intending it to. We didn’t really care.

F: Since there were so many talented people we honestly thought they would win. When we were all standing on the stage waiting for the final results, we couldn’t care less about the outcome (laughs).

C: We didn’t even hope to win. We just goofed off.

F: Like we struck weird poses and stuff (laughs).

M: We were acting like such idiots (laughs).

F: But honestly, we would’ve been happy winning the Grand Prix in the high school division, but a punk band took that.

H: Awards kept on getting handed out until there was just one left.

F: There was one band we thought would definitely win, and they thought so too, but then they called out, “Bump of Chicken!” I remember that I didn’t fully realize our name was called, and Chama shoved me to the front (laughs), “That’s us!”

C: We were jumping with excitement.

H: We ran up to the judge’s table and we were so pleased with ourselves.

F: Even if we had just won the Grand Prix it would’ve been the same. I almost forgot the trophy backstage (laughs). It was that unimportant. When we went home a friend was waiting for us in front of the station; he asked us how we did and when we said we won there was an uproar for two or three days…

C: After that we returned to our normal lives.

F: We didn’t get any calls from record labels, and we spent time just like usual. I remember it was about that time when we started to book our own gigs. In Chiba.

C: Like in Chiba Look and Route 14.

F: Chiba Anga and Motoyawataeki’s Third Stage, too. We played there a lot, and a girl who had watched us at the competition came all the way from Tokyo just to see us. She told us that we sucked but our songs were good; we still work with her now. Back then we performed original English songs as well as a few original Japanese songs…I think we had Kudaranai Uta by then. Maybe Arue too.

C: We did the English song 18 years story.

F: And Worst Life (laughs).

C: Also Trance Life (laughs).

F: We did Morning Glow and Sunshine.

C: It really was all English (laughs).

F: After Glass no Blues I only wrote proper songs. Even if it was in English I focused on the lyrics. Nowadays I often say that my songs are like my children, and I love my old songs the same as my new ones. I’ve felt that way since way back then. There was the thing that girl said to us, that we sucked but our songs were good. She also said that our attitude was good. At any rate, she had an interest in us and gave us her card. And then Masukawa ate it (laughs).

H: (Laughs) That was really really rude.

C: (In a high voice) “Can’t I eat it?” (Laughs).

F: Looking at him eating it we thought we were done in (laughs).

C: And you pulled down your pants.

F: You held it between your ass-cheeks and we had no idea what the hell you were doing (laughs). But anyway, the girl said she wanted to see us practice and came all the way to Chama’s house and asked how many demo tapes we had. At that time if we made a song we would record it on MTR. She had the director of her company listen to it for us. The director developed an interest and called us to Daikanyama.

M: In greater Tokyo (laughs).

C: We were full of pride. To go all the way to Tokyo from Chiba was a huge outing, for us at least.

F: An event. Excursion. Field trip.

C: We went and took pictures. The director kept on calling us cute. Not our music, but us –

F: “It’s really good, you guys’ atmosphere. Just from talking to you we can tell you have the proper approach toward music.”

C: That’s what started us rolling. The meeting with those two…

H: It was a big deal.

F: They didn’t associate with us as a production company, but as people. They didn’t tell us to sign a contract with them right away. They only started talking about working together two or three years later.

C: They were really great people. They didn’t want a relationship based on money, they just wanted to watch us.

F: They said they wanted to protect us. That didn’t strike home with us. They said there were temptations they wanted to protect us from – Now, I understand completely. They were able to protect us.

C: One day she asked us to participate in an all-night event. It was our first Tokyo gig.

F: At Club 251 (Shimokitazawa).

C: We were supposed to perform around two in the morning, and we were really tired.

M: On the way home we weren’t able to get off at Usui, because we overslept (laughs).

F: We would fall asleep and miss the station, so we would try and go back, but we would fall asleep and miss it again (laughs).

C: Thinking back, we had a great time. It was the first time we played in Tokyo, and the first time we played somewhere you could call a club.

M: It was the first time we had ever seen a black light, so we kept on baring our teeth (laughs).

All: Ahahahahahaha!

F: “You’re teeth are weird!” and stuff (laughs).

C: We rode the first train back from Ueno. There was no one on it, so we each lay down across a row of seats and slept. But when we woke up the carriage was full to bursting (laughs). I’ll never forget how bright it was that morning.

F: Actually, there was another person from that company who approached us because of the competition. Someone who worked in management. He phoned us and said he was really interested after seeing us at the competition, and that he wanted to listen to more of our stuff. For a while we phoned back and forth, we sent him our tapes, and then finally he wanted to meet, so we did. He brought along another person, but they felt differently (laughs).

C: They told us to go to England.

F: Anyway, he gave us some CDs and told us to study properly. We realized that the two of them, good and bad, must be what people in the business are like. They introduced us to someone from a major label. Then that person also took an interest in us…It was kind of scary. They told us to buy, buy, buy. “Buy a lot of our CDs, get receipts with our company’s name on them!”

C: We were happy.

F: But also a little scared. They were telling us to buy all the CDs and listen a lot in order to study. They also told us our instruments were bad, so we should buy new ones.

C: They bought them for us.

F: You mean they made us buy them. We calmed down when they told us to use them (laughs). Even if it was bad, that was fine; even if scuffling was bad, it was our true feelings about music, so it became good. We let them use us without hanging our heads. Although it’s not the best story.

C: But we were being taken care of.

M: That’s how I felt too. When they told us to buy instruments they didn’t force us to return them later. They told us that they really thought that would become our fortune.

F: They were going to have us perform at their showcase live. They didn’t explain what it was, only that there was a going to be a huge concert and we were going to perform. We wanted to do it. We told them we were thinking of doing it. We told the people from the other company that I was talking about earlier, we told them we were going to do this thing. They said, “Wait, wait, no; that’s a showcase live,” and explained what it actually was. In short, it’s a live where we would be presented as the company’s property. Like a sacrifice sale. Once we understood, we turned them down. They asked us why we didn’t have some faith in them and agree to it, and we told them that that it wasn’t a problem of faith, but the fact that they didn’t explain it to us in full was strange. We said we felt they had been good to us, but we wouldn’t perform out of a sense of obligation, nor would we become their property. We politely turned them down. That was the end of our relationship. They told us they could no longer support us as they had until that point, if that’s how we felt. We had expected that. But we told them that they were two separate things, the concert and our relationship. We had been depending on them…They said that they would support us after all, and we were happy. We were ashamed of how we had felt about them. Probably because there was a part of us that wanted them to use us. At that time we had our first tour. But the same year, around fall of ’97, we went on hiatus. It was because Masu and Masukawa had to take university entrance exams; it was that time when they had to decide things about the future. We talked. Chama was at the center of it. Chama said he was going to be a pro. He asked what I wanted to do, and I said I wanted to continue down the same path. That was really the only option for me. I was determined. Then, Chama went to Masu and Masukawa and asked them what they wanted to do.

Date: 2016-04-22; view: 930