|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
Tracklist |
|
|
|
|
|
01 - マリアンヌ (Marianne)
02 - 時計をとめて (Tokei wo Tomete)
03 - からっぽの世界 (Karappo no Sekai)
04 - われた鏡の中から (Wareta Kagami no Naka Kara)
05 - 裏切りの季節 (Uragiri no Kisetsu)
06 - ラヴ・ジェネレーション (Love Generation)
07 - 薔薇卍 (Bara Manji)
08 - どこへ (Doko he)
09 - 遠い海へ旅に出た私の恋人 (Tooi Umi he Tabi ni Deta Watashi no Koibito)
10 - つめたい空から500マイル (Tsumetai Sora Kara 500 Mile) |
|
|
|
|
|
Review |
|
|
|
|
|
For those of us born in the 1970s and the 1980s, it is with some degree of difficulty that we come to terms with the fact that the late 1960s is the certified Golden Era of Pop. Let's shed our self-denials here and face the facts: those several years are studded with earth-shattering albums, from Pet Sounds, and Chelsea Girl in 1966 to Axis: Bold as Love and Forever Changes in 1967 to Oracle And Odessey, and Jacks no Sekai in 1968, to name but a few examples.
To which the average anglophone reaction might be: "Jacks what?" Indeed, seeing this romaji title listed in the same breath as the aforementioned masterworks may draw a few eyebrows from the English-speaking keikaku audience. Not so in Japan. Widely recognized as the first true masterpiece of Japanese rock, Jacks no Sekai, the first of two full-lengths by rock quartet the Jacks, has been duly canonized in this country, a permanent fixture in the annals which no chronicler of pop history would dare overlook.
Listening to the album, it's not very hard to see why. The music is far different from anything else that was going on in Japan at the time, when Group Sounds was still in full bloom. This reviewer is a great fan of many of the original GS groups, but it would be insincere to not note that artistically, the Jacks were miles ahead of their peers, in terms of both musical innovation and emotional depth. Singer Hayakawa Yoshio's wails resonate in a way that none of his contemporaries could achieve, exhibiting a heart-tugging pull that commands respect. Its psychedelic lacquer, most notably guitarist Mizuhashi Haruo's fuzzed-out leads, betrays the album's 1968 derivation, but tracks like "Marianne" and "Karappo no Sekai" make it clear that they are on a league of their own.
The former, the album opener, sets the tone of the record perfectly. Conjuring up images of a lake storm, a wrecked boat, and a woman emerging out of the waters, it paints a haunting and erotic picture of dark chaos and desperate libido. The musicians effortlessly display their chops here, thrashing away at their respective instruments to create an interlude section of unadulterated mayhem, only to return again to Hayakawa's brooding, hypnotic verse - which then ascends into a furious scream. The latter, famously banned from the airwaves due to lyrical content, is far more tranquil in comparison, with its crawling-pace bass lines, atmospheric guitar fills, and flutes. There's an overwhelming sense of lethargy to the song, which is echoed in the lyrics ("My tears have dried out/My head is so empty"). Hayakawa's observation that "it's very quiet at the bottom of the sea" is most apt, as that is exactly where "Karappo no Sekai" sounds like it's coming from.
The string of songs in the middle, "Wareta Kagami no Naka Kara," "Uragiri no Kisetsu," and "Love Generation," delve perhaps into more familiar psychedelic rock territory. Drummer Kida Takasuke lays down recognizable rock beats while Mizuhashi's tasteful leads weave through the rhythm in classic 1960s fashion and Hayakawa puts forth visions of anger, betrayal, and despair. Not all is gloom and doom, however. "Tokei wo Tomete," penned and sung by Mizuhashi, is a straightforward love ballad, and reveals that its writer is no vocal maestro. But his quavery delivery gives the song a surprising warmth and beauty, providing a welcome respite from the album's depressive overcast. "Tsumetai Sora Kara 500 Mile," which features Hayakawa's poetry recital accompanied only by an organ, is pensive yet austere, with a soul-cleansing effect that finishes off the album beautifully.
Jacks no Sekai is, by all definitions, a classic, and writing about such a classic work gives the reviewer an extremely valuable advantage: hindsight. We know the story of what happens next. We know, for instance, that the Jacks released a lackluster follow-up, Jacks no Kiseki, in 1969 and disbanded soon afterwards. We know that after one acclaimed solo album, Hayakawa's career trajectory took a curious turn, transforming himself from a rock singer to a bookstore manager (only to reemerge gloriously as a solo artist in the 90s, but that is neither here nor now). We know that Kida, perhaps the most accomplished musician of the four, died tragically in a car accident in 1980. But most importantly we know, as a hard fact, that Jacks no Sekai has withstood the test of time. There's no need for us to second-guess ourselves when we declare that, as long as rock music continues to be heard in this country, the album will always hold an extraordinary status in the Japanese pop pantheon, a position shared only by an exclusive few. That may sound hyperbolic. It is not. As bold as that statement may appear, history has already proven it to be correct. |
|
|
|
|
|
back to reviews |
|
|
|
|
