What better way to ease into spring than with an album that exemplifies that grand idea we call “rebirth”? Rebirth, more often than not, is defined by what one lets go in order to awaken something entirely different. And in the case of Mayumi Itoh, it’s about completely putting to bed a certain past so she can settle on her own ideas, spiriting forward to a distinctly new and different vision.
If anyone in Japan remembers Mayumi today, it is most likely for her role as the leading vocalist and leader of the Fukuoka light pop group 白雪姫Band (Snow White Band). It was in the early ‘80s, fresh outta high school in Ōmuta, that Mayumi found herself singing alongside surprising chart hits such as “ねこ噛んじゃった,” which pulled her into the world of jazz pop and New Wave. After her high school band dissolved shortly after their brief success, Mayumi spent years floundering, trying to determine where her career would go and wondering if she even wanted to continue pursuing it.
It wasn’t until 1988 that Mayumi resurfaced by signing with Toshiba EMI’s Express imprint. On the 1988 album City Cats, one could appreciate that Mayumi sought to distance herself from her dated-sounding past. Under the thumb of her label, she sang songs that perfectly slotted into the slightly funky, AOR-influenced pop characteristic of Japan’s waning Shōwa era. Not given the freedom—or seeking to assert herself over the recordings—Mayumi’s early albums landed with little fanfare and modest acclaim in spite of an underlying sense that she wanted more for her career.
In an overly crowded Japanese pop market, various external pulls—such as personal pursuits in modeling and acting—seemed like distractions that prevented Mayumi from fully committing to music. As a listener, one could detect something distinctive in her voice, prompting the question: what might have been if an artist like Mayumi had freed herself from others’ expectations?
The 1990 album 恋人のいる時間 (Stay With Me) might have quietly laid the groundwork for Mayumi’s future. Working with artists well-versed in independence—Tetsuji Hayashi, Yumi Arai, and Minnie Yoshida—Mayumi must have, by osmosis, gleaned that the only way to stand out from the crowd was to take that first step forward herself. It was in that same year that she pushed herself to write her first compositions.
One of Mayumi’s first songwriting credits would yield, quite possibly, her biggest hit, “Dear Friend.” Written for her friend Akina Nakamori, “Dear Friend” explored a more mature direction—one more suited to the register Mayumi should have been aiming for. Buoyed by the strength of her songwriting, for her next record Mayumi would push to take over the reins of production and songwriting—an exploit that would ultimately pay off, even if it took her longer to commit her ideas to tape.
What’s fascinating about 1992’s 美人声 (Beautiful Voice), also known as Bijin Goe, is how much Mayumi leans into her own vision for direction. Drawing on the influences of sophisticated soul, world music, and evolving ideas of sexuality and sensuality, 美人声 (Beautiful Voice) entirely breaks away from Mayumi’s previous audience and influences.
Working with co-producer Pecker, they introduced ideas that were far more experimental and left-field than before. Collaborating with the then little-known Norihito Sumitomo, Mayumi integrated a distinctive sound—one that was emerging in European art rock and jazz circles—and adapted it for her future pop. Once known as a Japanese ingénue, she was transforming her music into something more mysterious and subversive.
This sense of dark sensuality can be heard on the opening track, “ドラキュラ感覚” (Dracula Sensation). Much like the provocative drawings Mayumi created for the album, this track exudes a drama in a minor key that circulates around lusty feelings. Straddling the crevices between shamanistic and sleazy, it is Mayumi’s understanding of the agency of her body.
The longing, Latin-tinged title track “美人声” explores a feeling of separation driven by music. Sung in a manner influenced by Italian canzone—a deep well that Mayumi would further explore on this record—it is yet another entirely alien ballad driven by her personal journey. “1-23-9 マンション・パラノイア” (or 1-23-9 Mansion Paranoia) seemingly takes cues from the askew pop of groups like Yasuaki Shimizu’s Mariah and the newfound ‘90s New Jack scene, mashing them into a wicked beat over which Mayumi raps with fitting verb.
It is these wicked shifts in direction and ideas that make 美人声 (Beautiful Voice) an intriguing listen to this day. Ambient ballads such as “無言の告白” sound as though they are inspired more by atmospheric strains and a jazz-like feel than by any particular influence. Itself a cover of some forgotten Italian canzone, it sounds unlike anything else in her homeland. Hearing Mayumi luxuriate in sophisticated sounds that befit her impressive phrasing and lyricism is nothing short of an aha moment. This is the sound she had concealed behind a curtain all along. It was an intoxicating, high-drama set within the span of just five minutes.
When you hear Mayumi striking an impressive balance between continental-style pop and art prog—as she does on “この街の夜は‥” (or The Night In This City…)—you wish there were more information available to explain the contours of what she was striving toward. On the album, one can hear Mayumi reimagining that song “Dear Friend,” which set her on this path, in a smashingly innovative manner. And in the end, she concludes the album with “電車の中に咲く花” (A Flower Blooming On The Train), leaving the light on and allowing the last fleeting embers of this seductive music to settle on a sublime, elegiac note. Undoubtedly, that is where I find myself landing.
For all the ennui one experiences knowing that Mayumi’s bold move did not garner the accolades it deserved, one feels that she should have been proud of what she accomplished. It makes it all the more disheartening that this was her final musical statement. This is something I touched on long ago in a mix that focused on similar artists who subverted the type:
“Erudite, smokey, whisper-voiced, and (seemingly) a bit distant, on her we like to pin the role of seductress, separating her from the object of her intention.
On her, I place this mix of breathy, sophisticated, elegant songs displaying very leftfield takes on love that we’d truly understand better if we just listen a bit closer…”
Upon closer listening, 美人声 (Beautiful Voice) still yearns for something more impressive for this sophisticated soul. It’s something better captured in Mayumi’s words to explain her evolution:
“In the past, I liked using soft and delicate words, but recently, I find strength more appealing.”
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