I know some have posted this question to me before: “How do you pick what to share on the site?” I wish the answer was easier than: “vibes”. Yet, sometimes it’s not even that. Sometimes, it could be something far more ordinary, and dare I say, less placeable. It could be just one song that, as corny (or un-Fond/Sound) as it seems it might be, strikes a certain fancy for me. And in today’s case, it’s “Spend All Your Money” from Michelle Hart’s Mish.
It’s another day and you’re on your way
You could buzz down to the super sale
Elevators cruizin’ new sights
Soothin’ muzak waggin’ with new delights
Kansai, Kenzo, Comme de Garçon
Spend all your money and the pain will be gone
Perfume, orchids, chateaubriand
But ya gotta stop for lunch around one
Fur and lace, and hats for your hair
Speed all your money and the pain isn’t there
Yamamoto Yohji for you
And lunch can wait until two
Antique cars just reach for the moon
Speed all your money you can do it real soon
Gucci, Cartier, Louis Vitton
A heartache can be such fun…
– Taken from “Spend All Your Money” from Michelle Heart’s Mish
For me, something about hearing this section of lyrics in “Spend All Your Money” (reprinted for your viewing glory) struck me as this “chef’s kiss”, a-ha moment. Here was Michelle Hart, this young American gal in Tokyo, writing in 1988, capturing something, a certain zeitgeist (with tongue firmly placed in cheek) she was part of – that she was at that moment creating within – that would take decades for her homeland to rediscover as this other thing they’d dub “City Pop”. For all that lost in translation, categorization, assigned to music Japanese would simply call “pops” (or some adult-oriented, light mellow-version of nyū myūjikku), every little bit of embedded cultural symbolism within this song captured the promise and shortcomings of this era, soundtracked by music befitting its superficial quality. Flush in a bubble, the possibilities then seemed endless in Japan (and had to be expressed some way).
It’s this song that forced my hand: “Michelle Hart, here’s your entry to my site (and hopefully, into the life of others)”.
Yet, how does someone like Michelle find themselves in Japan in the ‘80s? If you follow all sorts of breadcrumbs, you can deduce that it came because of societal, cultural, changes in America.
It was at the tail-end of late ‘70s, at the height of the disco backlash, when singer-songwriter Michelle Hart tried to make it in the music industry. Back then, it was part of a disco trio dubbed, “Danielle”. And much like bigger, disco fish that were fried at the start of the ‘80s, so too did her attempt to become a soul star sputter on take off. The times had already changed too much. It’s what led her to pursue other opportunities in foreign lands.
As a voice actress, Michelle Hart ventured to Japan where terrestrial radio and cable TV, afforded her various outlets to lend her voice to pursue more lucrative commercial work – anything ranging from radio jingles to full feature-length voice overs. By the mid ‘80s, as a singer, Michelle restarted that career, she did so by contributing backup vocals to productions by huge Japanese artists like Yukihiro Takahashi and Minako Honda. Then, somewhat hidden in records like Love Synchroid, original songs like “Angel Eyes” proffered that Michelle still in fact had her own brilliant ideas to push across…only if someone gave her the opportunity.
That window of opportunity would come courtesy of Japan’s Meldac label. When time came to explore expanding their music market share into the realms of jazz and R&B, Meldac had to build a roster of artists in tune with the Japanese market. It’s this little opening that afforded Michelle space to both sign with them and get studio time with some of Japan’s leading fusion and soul musicians.
Looking at the liner notes, you’ll notice a few names standout. Names like late, great, Yukihiro Takahashi and Kenji Omura brought in a techno-pop influence. Others like Lisa Ono, Ken Shima, and Getao Takahashi lend the airs of latin and tropical jazz. Then you have names like Ken Morimura and Tadashi Namba who had their own following as urban dance and fusion producers. Finally, add to that the amazing backup voices of Tyrone Hashimoto and the late, great, Cindy and you’ve got a barn-burning crew ready to cover a diverse set of styles and ideas.
Listening to Mish, I’m reminded of that other Bish, of that one by Stephen Bishop. It was that earlier album which I think shares a similar vibe – that of a jazz singer surrendering a bit of their technique, wandering through the many backstreets of pop music, trying to use their gifted phrasing emotively within the span of truly well-written catchy songs. And in Mish, you see those ideas and that spirit transported elsewhere, perhaps, to the similarly interesting back alleys of Japan?
Mish kicks off with “Cool Paradise”, its closest tie to the wider Japanese ‘80s AOR scene. In it you hear the easy, breezy, latter-day scene inspired by artists like Matt Bianco or home-grown, like the late, Harumi Ohzora. It’s not until the next track, “Oba-Oba” that the album gets cookin’ and you hear it in Kenji Omura and Michelle Hart’s brilliant dreamy electro-tropical reimagining of Luiz Bonfa’s classic.
The album shifts in mood and ups in quality when Michelle, quantifiably, takes over as songwriter and a certain sophistication sets in. You hear it in her “Come On Closer”, that gorgeous track of sexy, lovelorn, nocturnal, vocal soul music. “Summer Lie” displays her roots in latin jazz (and the influence of one Elis Regina) with a different kind of scorchin’ vibe, singing in Brazilian Portuguese another original, tailor-made for a summer night, or a spirited Walearic set.
Michelle’s prowess as a singer is highlighted by the fact that she doesn’t miss a single beat while switching to singing in French in the very next track with Tadashi Namba. It’s just fascinating to see Michelle, capturing yet another Japanese cultural fascination – that of all-things-Francaise – with the nouvelle chansonnier-ing of “Adieu”, a track Étienne Daho would have killed for.
Mish has its own unique way of going forward, afterward. Rather than stick to any specific style, Michelle’s vision is quite panoramic. It’s panoramic with a focus that seems unique to her own voice. Songs like “Make Someone Happy” speak of a tie to the Baroque Pop of the Beach Boys or the sentimental balladry of someone like Doris Day. There’s just something about the following tracks – the ones that hit the most “poppy” – that I’m genuinely in love with.
Songs like “A-E-A-E-O” have the bouncy, dreamy, fervor of a long lost, girl group, classic – yet, it’s (once, again) an original. “Holiday” finds Michelle switching to Spanish, singing a brilliant salsa(!) that captures that nostalgic Japanese latin swing band groove found in other groups like Orquesta Del Sol (which, unsurprisingly, Kenji Morimura, who helped arrange this music, was part of). And what’s there to say with Michelle’s collaboration with Yukihiro Takahashi?
I singled out “Spend All Your Money” because, in hindsight, its lilting reggae-cum-new wave groove hides a genuinely poignant song. It’s both a Steely Dan-esque dig at the rapid, vapid quest for fortune prevalent around ‘80s Japan but also a meta-comment on the things that will outlive this span of flash in the pan. Back then, when Kansai, Kenzo, Comme De Garçons, and Yohji Yamamoto, were outfitting all those Japanese stars you’re seeing in all those records you’re just rediscovering, there were real people behind the “aesthetic”, living in that atmosphere, who saw behind the soapy bubble – real people who believed that their work could transcend that second dimension. It’s a dead mall of a track and unsurprisingly, Yukihiro and Kenji Ohmura (who both play on this track) give it that bittersweet tinge it deserves.
pWhen the album ends on “Where Did Love Go” one wonders just what happened to make this Michelle’s sole release. For a jazz pop record, Mish was a little more unplaceable than that. It feels like it captured just a bit of everything that made that time in Japan equal parts inspiring and beguiling. It’s all those possibilities and probabilities, undoubtedly lost to time, until they aren’t…