Midaregami

Marxy knows much more about the Japanese music industry than I do. He’s also much, much more articulate about it than I am. Lots of what he writes is fascinating—take this piece, all about the immense power that Jimusho (agencies) have over the artists they represent.

How does anything remotely creative happen in this climate? Maybe it’s nothing to do with creativity, and everything to do with reputation—maybe you can record whatever you want as long as you don’t piss off the boss.

Here’s an old one. Maybe I’ll go through letters of the alphabet starting with “A,” all BBT-style. Or maybe not. Who knows. Enjoy some globe here. This is some epic technopop shit. And is still good, I think. Some of that TK stuff is withstanding the test of time. Some of it.

• globe, Anytime smokin’ cigarette, from “Faces Places.”

It’s embarrasing, the rush of that was a combination of succulent validation and sweet relief that came with a recent email I received.

A few days ago, I sent my application UC Boulder’s Master’s program, thus finishing the third and final application I’m doing this time around. As always, owing to my embarrasing form-induced paralysis, it would have been impossible but for Miss J’s timely intervention—this should, incidentally, help to answer any questions about why I’m marrying the woman. Ah, but I digress.

A minion of The University of Colorado at Boulder sent me an email yesterday, just to tell me that while the official letter will arrive later, I had been accepted into their Japanese MA program. I am not sure how you men of earth say it, but on my world, we have a proverb: Oh hell yes.

My mind was instantly awash with fantasies of interesting classes—Classical Japanese, say—and the support of small but vibrant department. I realize these are but fantasies, and will be wary of realities that differ too significantly. I have no intention of devolving into Yet Another Miserable Grad Student. But the idea that I—even I—might yet have a future beyond hideous retail toil was deeply invigorating.

It’s even sunny outside today.

Over in the pit of despair a while ago, I mentioned Samurai Champloo. It’s possible that I said something about it being excellent. That I would have made such a statement is very likely, because it is. Excellent, I mean. I hate to go bandying about proclamations like “the successor to Cowboy Bebop” and “the best Samurai Anime since Kenshin,” because it’s frankly too early to tell. But it seems very likely to me that by the middle of this year, I will be back up on the soapbox, saying those very things with the sort of irrational bombast that I’m notorious for.

In the most recent episode of the Project, there was a mad scientist who was raising dinosaurs. Dinosaurs whose names I had to translate. So cool.

I was made to do this work, and here is why: It is very hard to look up the Japanese terms for dinosaurs in the dictionary. They’re not, strictly speaking, there. One has to simply know what species is being referred to. I, having been a young dinosaur-obsessed boy in my formative years, have no problem with this. Oh sure, anyone can do the easy ones, like Triceratops or Stegosaurus. But what about Diplodocus? Ceratosaurus? Eryops?

I love this work. This experience probably won’t get me a job at Viz or ADV or Bandai or Capcom, but it should. I am really, really good at it.

Stupid subject line, I know. Here are two songs, both Japanese, both with a similar manic hoedown feel. They’re also both the final tracks from their respective albums. The GO one is off the NEW album, which Miss J got for me while she was in Seattle. It’s a departure for them. I love how “Otona no Himitsu” switches from major to minor and back with reckless abandon.

And the Bump of Chicken (ugh) song? Well, it’s just too catchy not to like.

• GO!GO!7188, Otona no Himitsu, from “Ryuuzetsuran”
• Bump of Chicken, Dandelion, from “Jupiter”

Wow, it’s just like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. (I love the term “Wasuresaseya.” Just rolls right off the tongue, it does.)

Gabe pointed out this article about ancient, naturally-occurring nuclear fission reactors.

Yes.

(Fossilized Nuclear Reactors would be a good name for a band.)

Quruli is a real conundrum for me. Each of their albums is very different from the others. This one’s called “Team Rock”—their foray into electronica. Here’s track one.

• Quruli, TEAM ROCK, from “Team Rock”

And now for something completely funky. Galactic is the notional heir to The Meters, and features Stanton Moore on the drums. The New Orleans street beat he plays in this tune stymies me to this day, and I’ve been working at it on and off for three years. It’s hip—very hip.

• Galactic, Baker’s Dozen, from “Late for the Future”