Music

Kenshi Yonezu dropped his highly anticipated new album LOST CORNER this month. The J-pop hitmaker’s latest project is a tour de force arriving four years after his previous album STRAY SHEEP, packed with 20 tracks including ten high-profile tie-ins such as “Chikyugi – Spinning Globe,” the theme song of Hayao Miyazaki’s animated movie The Boy and the Heron.
Writer Ryutaro Kuroda spoke with the 33-year-old singer-songwriter on behalf of Billboard Japan about his new release, who shared the concept and intent behind the title of “Garakuta” (“Junk”), one of the keywords of this project, and its connection to the title track and more. The “KICK BACK” artist described his current headspace after releasing the epic set as being “bright,” and this outlook seems to symbolize the style of the album in its entirety. 

You’ve completed your first album in four years. Tell us frankly how you feel about it now.

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I’m feeling brighter than usual, I guess. There are things I wish I could have worked on a bit more, but I don’t spend my days being tormented by them. It feels healthy and I like that.

With so many songs that were tie-ins, I was wondering how you were going to put them together as an album. How did you come up with the overall image of the set?

As you say, the number of existing songs had grown quite a bit over the past four years, and the album could have ended up consisting mostly of existing singles. That was my initial concern. Some musicians, after a long time in the business, gradually include fewer new songs in their albums and I feel really sad about that. When I was a kid, my idea of an album was something full of songs that I’d never heard before and there was a joy in listening to them collectively, and I still clearly remember that. So when my album turned out to have 11 existing songs on it, the only way I could think of to resolve my main concern was to simply increase the number of tracks, an idea even a fool could come up with. I actually wanted to write more — ideally, I wanted more than half of the songs to be new, but fell short of that goal. I have some regrets about that, but I guess I did OK.

When did you start working on the new songs on the album?

I wrote most of them this year. There are about three tracks I wrote last year — in fact, I was actually planning to release this album last year, but really wasn’t in the mood for it. My motivation for music had dropped so low and there was a long period where I didn’t want to make any more music.

Can you tell us why?

The Boy and the Heron was a huge factor. I grew up on Ghibli films and Hayao Miyazaki was a huge presence in my life. Working on the theme song for one of his movies felt like the greatest honor ever that would probably never come my way again. And when something like that happened, it felt like I’d lived my whole life for that moment. During the last year, especially during the period leading up to the release of the film, I had this strong feeling that there’d be nothing left after this was over. I just couldn’t get into the mindset of making new songs, so I had to postpone [the album] for a year.

What made you turn to music again?

It’s hard to say succinctly, but I stopped thinking about the minutiae — I stopped facing things beyond my control. I felt that I’d just become exhausted unless I started to focus on how strongly I could secure the areas that were within my control and that others couldn’t take away from me.

From an objective standpoint, my music career probably appears full of happiness. I mean, I’ve had opportunities to be involved in various works like the Ghibli tie-in, Shin Ultraman, Final Fantasy XVI, and Chainsaw Man, so it probably looks like smooth sailing. And while I think that’s correct even from my point of view, I also had this sense of urgency. I felt that somewhere along the line, I’d snap and never be able to recover. So, I focused only on what I could control, and to a certain extent, ignored or gave up on what I couldn’t. I had to switch to this way of thinking.

You arranged all of the new songs on the album except “Garakuta – JUNK.” Is this in line with what you just said about securing what you can control?

It really is. Once I decided to do it all myself and began doing it, it was just so much fun.

What you just said sort of reminded me of your works from your diorama era.

Yes, I guess you could say I went back to my roots in that sense.

While the new songs on this album lean towards electronic music, “Garakuta – JUNK” is the only song with a band sound. What image did you have in mind when you started on it?

I wrote it as the theme song for the movie LAST MILE, but the process was full of twists and turns. The first demo I submitted was a completely different song. It was a rather subdued number, sung effortlessly in a low key. I had an urban image in mind and was writing a track that had sort of an icy feel to it, but the producers of the movie said, “Maybe this isn’t the one.” They preferred a gentler, warmer, yet ballad-like song, and I was like, “I have to admit, you do have a point.” When I first met with Ms. Ayuko Tsukahara, the director [of LAST MILE], she mentioned wanting to make this film a popcorn movie. She wanted to make a roller-coaster movie that was emotional and thrilling and could be watched with popcorn in hand. In light of that, I realized my first demo wasn’t the right image. So the current song was born in the process of writing it over again.

My understanding is that the lyrics include your own experiences.

The first one I wrote felt perfect the way it was, so when they told me it wasn’t what they were looking for, I wasn’t sure where to go from there. Around the same time, as a really personal experience, a friend of mine was in a bad spot. They were mentally overwhelmed — the word “overwhelmed” is too mild to express what they were going through. So I went to see them with another group of friends and spoke with them. That conversation and the expression on their face turned out to be a major experience for me. One of the things I remember in particular was that they kept saying, “I’m not broken.” They repeatedly said, “People might look at me that way, but I’m not broken at all. I’m perfectly fine,” and, “I’m just a little more honest than I used to be.”

After I got home and was alone, I wondered if being “broken” was such a bad thing. I thought, even if you’re broken or not, you’re still you, and I intend to accept you either way, so maybe I should have said, “It’s all right if you’re broken.” That experience had a huge influence on the creation of “Garakuta – JUNK” and as I wrote the lyrics in that direction while drawing on parts of the film that link to the emotions of the characters, I ended up with those lyrics.

The light tone of “LOST CORNER” is also notable. How did you go about creating the melody and sound?

I’m not sure, but I wanted this song to be the last track on the album when I started writing it. So I thought it’d be nice and tight if I ended it with something ceremonial or euphoric, or simply put, a ballad, but it didn’t sit very well. As I worked on it, it turned out really bright and light. But I wanted to start the album with a song that tells someone to “disappear” and end it with “not disappearing.”

Could you elaborate on what sort of mental state that reflects?

I sometimes read books about people suffering from depression. Some people can’t help but feel that their lives aren’t worth living, you know? It’s a very serious problem for them, and it’s probably hard for such people to make proper decisions in such a state, and it’s also something that feels familiar to me. It’s really a grave situation and I’m not saying I object to it or anything like that, but I felt that this is vaguely an inverted form of eugenic thinking. Being convinced that you’re not worth living is the reverse of “so long as I have value, I can live,” so you’re in a state of somehow being convinced that you shouldn’t be alive if you’re not productive. I don’t want to sound so harsh to those who are struggling now. But the truth is, it’s OK to be alive even if you aren’t productive, and it’s OK to be alive even if you’re a good-for-nothing or a dunce. While the major premise is that it’s not so simple, I still think there’s an element of not having been able to gain sight of such a basic point.

It’s OK to be “junk” you mean.

I have this feeling as well — there’s a part of me that can’t help but think that I have to be making music and that it’s the meaning of my life. I felt compelled to think about how I should confront that. Some obvious barometers are the number of likes on X (formerly Twitter) or the number of streams for songs, which are things we have to deal with, and in today’s world where social media is so ingrained in society, this isn’t limited to a profession like mine. When you think about how to deal with such visualized standards of value, I think it’s important to create an environment where we can avoid associating with them.

I might have mentioned this at the beginning, but it’s about having things that can’t be taken away from you no matter how much malice you’re exposed to — I sing about turning a curve slowly in “LOST CORNER” and in “Chikyugi – Spinning Globe” I say “I’ll turn the corner.” Maybe it’s important to keep moving at a speed that will allow you to actually feel that the road goes on. I have a feeling I was thinking about things like that a lot.

The phrase “all the dreams, hopes, misfortunes, and anguish/well, that’s that,” from “LOST CORNER” seems to symbolize this work.

Yes. Being nonchalant like that and not getting too uptight about things. Things can be really fierce in a society revolving around social media, you know? A small image of a person is cut out of context and spread out and it becomes more and more disconnected from that person’s real character. This isn’t limited to celebrities and could happen to anyone — a snapshot can be mocked to pieces and damage a person’s dignity, and the way we should live our lives under such circumstances is by separating the real from the imaginary and securing what can’t be taken away from us. I think the world has become a place where it’s really important to have an area that can’t be taken away from you.

You announced a major world tour, making two stops each in Asia, Europe, and the U.S. starting in March next year.

I’ve been to China and Taiwan before, and clearly remember the excitement from those shows. I’m looking forward to going there again.

What about Europe and the U.S.?

I can’t say because I really don’t know what to expect. I have no idea what it’ll be like. A shy Japanese person will be coming from the East, so please be gentle, is maybe how I’m feeling.

—This interview by Ryutaro Kuroda first appeared on Billboard Japan

Billboard Japan launched its Women in Music initiative in 2022 to celebrate artists, producers and executives who have made significant contributions to music and inspired other women through their work. The WIM interview series highlighting female players in the Japanese entertainment industry is one of the main features of this project, and the first 30 sessions were published in Japan as a “Billboard Japan Presents” collection by writer Rio Hirai last year. 
For the latest installment of this series, Billboard Japan spoke with YUKKYUN, a self-designated DIVA celebrating his 10th anniversary in entertainment. The 29-year-old multi-hyphenate began his career in 2014 as an idol singer and went on to become a finalist in the coveted miss iD audition in 2017. While active as the member of the duo Cinema and Boy CQ, YUKKYUN began self-producing his solo career called the DIVA Project in 2021 and has branched into various media including songwriting, writing, and podcasting. The “Logout Bonus” singer — who has been vocal about being a fan of female artists — shared his thoughts on the state of gender in the music industry in Japan.

Tell us about your life before you launched your career as YUKKYUN.

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My friends were always more girls than boys since I was little and my parents never stopped me from being who I am, so I’ve managed to avoid being forced into some form of masculinity in life. None of my classmates were like me, so I guess I did stand out.

I first encountered feminism and gender theory in my third year of high school when I started reading books like Chizuko Ueno’s Misogyny after finding out about it in a magazine. Around the same time, I read (Shuichi Kato’s) Introduction to Gender and Sexuality Studies and it was like I understood the true nature of the discomfort I’d been feeling. I realized that I wasn’t wrong after all and that I could do whatever I wanted. I’d always firmly believed that I wasn’t doing anything wrong even before then, but it was a relief to learn that there were people doing proper research on the subject and that it’d been clearly laid out. Until high school, it was a matter of how I felt and acted, but at about age 20 I reaffirmed that everyone including me had many options — there were so many people in Tokyo wearing cute clothes, so I began to dress myself freely in skirts and dresses. 

You believed in your potential and decided to present yourself to the outside world as YUKKYUN. Did you feel it was your mission to do so?

It was hard for me to live my life pretending to be something I’m not. I can’t say what I don’t think and I can’t go outside as myself if I’m wearing clothes I don’t want to wear. Forcing what’s become the norm for me to conform to existing values is more taxing. It’s how I’ve always lived, so being different from others wasn’t that much of a problem for me.

I also thought there’d definitely be some people out there who’d get something out of seeing someone like me being gorgeous in public. I think it would have been a relief for me as a teenager in junior high or high school if someone like me had existed. I do feel it’s my mission to shine right in the middle.

And it’s been exactly ten years since you started performing as YUKKYUN.

Yes. I’ve always loved singing and dancing. I started doing what I could within a few months of moving to Tokyo. I’ve been a member of a duo called Cinema and Boy CQ since 2016 and performing in this group is already fun in itself, but the year I graduated from grad school I started the DIVA Project as a solo artist, writing my own lyrics and singing them. I began receiving responses at a rate and depth that I couldn’t have obtained from just my previous activities. Hearing feedback from people who’ve actually listened to my music is such a rich experience, and I’ve discovered lots of things other than what I’d consciously wrote into my lyrics. The way my music reaches each person is slightly different and I find that invaluable.

Many shy people who want to take that first step but haven’t been able to do so listen to my songs, so I want to sing songs that will lift their spirits and inspire them, even if it’s only while they’re listening to a three-minute song. When the things that I’ve said on social media or in interviews are written into a song, the recording can be heard many times and the song sung many times at concerts, and I get a sense that the message really hits home that way. So I think making works of art is wonderful and that everything should be handed down as works of art.

That’s true. As a listener myself, I also have a strong sense of the magnitude of the things we receive from works of art. Like you just said about hearing from people who want to take that first step but can’t, there seem to be many people in Japan today who are intensely afraid of stepping outside of the existing framework. I’m sure this is something you express in your lyrics, but how do you think they can overcome that fear?

I don’t live free of fear or care either, and I want art to always be by my side as something that gives me the courage to take a step forward and to question existing frameworks. And I’d like (my art) to be like that, too.

Try not to overlook any feelings of discomfort that arise within you. I think it’s important to keep being aware of the things that bother you or things you feel you can’t handle, no matter how minor, and to know what you really want to do, what you value, and what you want to change even if you can’t do so right away. I mean, life isn’t just about overcoming things. I hope my music can exist as a way to present possibilities and options to such people. I want to make people feel at ease.

Do you think that by coming across music or idols that you like, for example, and finding things you truly value and don’t want to compromise, people could gradually become less concerned about existing frameworks?

Yes, I do. And when you find that something you like or don’t want to compromise, you don’t have to declare it or be vocal about it. Even if you don’t go out of your way to say, “I like such-and-such” to others, if you can be true to yourself in your heart and be like,  “This is how I really feel,” you can live without breaking down.

In my case, I think I needed to listen to music by divas singing about loneliness to validate how I felt. Changing things quickly or being able to do things suddenly isn’t easy, you know? You can’t just be reborn. For example, even if you want to wear only cute clothes from now on, it takes money and time, at least about two years, to completely change your wardrobe. So during that time when I was longing to change, my favorite music protected my heart. 

When you think about it that way, it kind of feels like society isn’t designed to allow individuals to value the things they hold dear inside. You were a finalist in the miss iD audition in 2017, a competition that uses the honorific for women in its name [Japanese Wikipedia defines it as “an audition to find diverse female role models who survive in the new era, regardless of appearance, genre, or gender roles”]. Could you share your thoughts on the current social structure?

That was seven years ago now, but I entered the miss iD contest because the judges were all creators that I liked and it wasn’t my intention to challenge the social structure. The current social structure is so exhausting, but I’m trying to broaden the existing framework by expressing with my body that it’s OK to do what I want as a “boy who’s a bit unfettered.” Sometimes it’s like people see whatever I do as social commentary, but I still feel like I’m thinking more about individual people than society as a whole.

You released “DIVA ME” in May 2021 and launched your solo endeavor called the DIVA Project. Could you tell us why you chose the word “diva”?

When I thought about what I’ve received from whom in life and about what I should do in my upcoming solo career, calling myself DIVA made the most sense to me. My definition of DIVA is the will and spirit to be proud regardless of gender or occupation, so I made my solo debut with a song called “DIVA ME.”

Who inspired you to shape your definition of DIVA?

The first DIVA I fell in love with was (J-pop star) Ayumi Hamasaki. I’ve loved her since I was 5 years old and went on to enjoy listening to solo female artists in general, especially those who write their own lyrics and create their own world. I still listen to Hikaru Utada, Ringo Shiina, aiko, Yuko Ando, YUKI, Tomoko Kawase, and others. After moving to Tokyo, I also discovered the music of Seiko Oomori and felt that the music reached my heart more directly. When I think about it, DIVAs have accompanied me throughout my life.

It sounds like calling yourself DIVA is a solution that satisfies you. What changes do you think are necessary to allow for more diversity in the workplace in Japan’s music and entertainment industries in the future?

Something I’ve noticed in the industry is that the producers are mostly men. It’d be better if there were more women in those creative roles. I’m sure there are capable women out there but maybe society isn’t accustomed to giving full authority to women. I don’t compose music, so I’d like to appoint more women to do that for me. I also think there aren’t enough women organizing festivals. I guess I have to become really popular. Then it’ll make it easier for people who want to do what I do to come out. I hope that by taking the lead, I can lower the obstacles for people to start something. Otherwise, it won’t be interesting for me either.

—This interview by Rio Hirai (SOW SWEET PUBLISHING) first appeared on Billboard Japan