
Veetdharm Morgan Fisher – Water Music, 1985

Tracklist: 1. Junko Ohashi – テレフォン·ナンバー 2. Ichiko Hashimoto – Le Beau Paysage 3. Quarteto Em Cy – Vida Ruim 4. Il Guardiano del Faro – Lei 5. Yoon Sin Nae – 이 밤을 즐겁게 6. Yukihiro Takahashi & Steve Jansen – Betsu-Ni 7. Sonia Rosa – Te Quero Tanto (I Love You, So) 8. The Slipstream Group – Bygones 9. Zabadak – Butterfly 10. Lena D’Água – Jardim Zoológico 11. Lydia Lunch – Spooky 12. Steely Dan – Do It Again 13. Maryn E. Coote – One Who Cares (Original 82-14) 14. Bill Nelson – Realm Of Dusk 15. Nuno Canavarro – Wask 16. Claire Hamill – Autumn: Leaf Fall
Tracklist: 1. Deniece Williams – Free 2. Shinichi Tanabe – Hell’s Gate Island Theme 3. Marju Kuut & Uku Kuut – I Don’t Have To Cry Anymore 4. Koo Dé Tah – Over To You 5. Dee C. Lee – Hey What’d Ya Say? 6. Jennifer Vyban – Miracles 7. Mami Koyama – Love Song 8. Love, Peace & Trance – Hasu Kriya (Single Version) 9. Brenda Ray – Another Dream 10. Velly Joonas – Käes On Aeg 11. Astrud Gilberto – Dindi 12. Syoko – Sunset 13. Minako Yoshida – Gogo No Koibito
Today we bring you Dance Volunteer, the second and final full-length from Japanese new-wavers Portable Rock. It’s from 1987, but this isn’t the sleek “city pop” sound which contemporary acts like Kero Kero Bonito or Especia aspire to recreate today. Nor is it the coquettish shibuya-kei style which members of Portable Rock went on to pioneer after reuniting to form the much beloved Pizzicato Five. No, this is the big, bold 80s synth pop that time forgot. It seems a lack of commercial success led to the breakup of Portable Rock, and I’m surprised. The songs on Dance Volunteer are full of big, memorable hooks and the kind of spacious synth production that has aged particularly well for modern audiences. Maybe the slick production is the culprit for the abandoning of the project, as it was presumably expensive, and money means more pressure to chart. Yet Dance Volunteer has oddities all over it. Audio quirks stand out everywhere, like little square pegs in the round synth holes that are trying to steer the album into more marketable territory.
Listen to the way “憂ウツの (Hold Me)” breaks periodically to turn into the future, channeling the intro of a 90s house track for trance-like seconds of airtime. Hear how the title track (“ダンス・ボランティア”) is carried by a kind of strange wolf whistle, with an almighty injection of guitar in its chorus that sounds as heady as your first kiss. It’s heart racing stuff. I’m also in love with the vocal lick that “スムース・トーク” (“Sumusu Toku,” a Japanese phoneticization of “smooth talk”) coasts on for its entirety, sounding like a Disney soundtrack to a sunny convertible ride. And the lunar grooves of the ninth track, “キュートな事情” (“Kyuto No Jijou”) make a strong case for it being the first trip-hop track ever made. Listen to this, then cast an ear on any Massive Attack collaboration with Horace Andy, and you’ll see what I mean.
Guest post by Matt Nida (London)
Sometimes the music tells its own story. I bought Yumiko Morioka’s Resonance last year in Tokyo (on the recommendation of someone who knew I’d been devouring records by the likes of Hiroshi Yoshimura, Toshifumi Hinata, Haruomi Hosono and many other names who’ll be familiar to readers of this blog) knowing nothing more than what my ears were telling me – that this was a very beautiful slow-burning piano album; Satie-esque ripples through a tranquil sea of crystalline digital reverb, equal parts Sakamoto, Budd, and the Eno brothers. I fell in love with this album on its own terms, with no real sense of how it fits into the wider story of 1980s Japanese ambient music.
As someone who can neither speak nor read Japanese, piecing together the background of this album is its own adventure, relying a lot on shaky auto-translate services and reasonably intelligent guesswork. Yumiko Morioka was born in 1956, and studied at the San Francisco Conservatory of Music. She spent much of the last three decades in the United States; Resonance is her only solo release, although she later released a collaborative album with Bill Nelson called Culturemix in 1995. Under the pen name of Satoshi Miyashita, she wrote a number of hit songs for idol acts throughout the 80’s including Toshihiko Tahara and other performers from the notorious Johnny & Associates stable.
Dig further into Resonance’s credits and associates and some familiar names start to appear. The album was produced by new age keyboardist Akira Ito, formerly of the Far East Family Band, and was the only LP released on Ito’s Green & Water label that wasn’t one of his own efforts. Morioka herself occasionally played piano for Miharu Koshi, and receives a “special thanks” credit in the liner notes to Hosono’s Omni Sight Seeing.
So it’s tempting to view Resonance primarily as another link in the dense latticework of interconnecting artists and albums from 70s and 80s Japan that enthusiastic Western listeners are only now starting to piece together through blog posts, YouTube algorithms and curatorial mixes. Another piece in the puzzle. But you really don’t need to know any of this stuff. Resonance really is nothing more than a very beautiful slow-burning piano album, one whose exploratory pieces gently unfold in a way that slows time and, in the best Eno tradition, pleasantly colour any environment in which they’re heard. It’s an honest, open record, and one that I hope you will love as much as I do.