I have a confession to make. I have a distinct aversion to “girl” singers. I like my male singers to sound like adults. I like my female singers to sound like adults, too. Basically, I can’t stand when someone plays the role of a tart (with no irony), no matter what gender normative noun they prescribe to. Perhaps that explains my affinity for albums like Yuki Saito’s Love.
Can I relate to you a story? Skip forward to the next “*” symbol if you’re averse to a rant, of sorts.
I know a group of guys that have certain tastes in music that they aren’t afraid to share with each other. All day they listen to singers like Ariana Grande, Selena Gomez, and Camila Cabello. If a track has a youngish-sounding woman, singing in a lolita-esque style, via various states of coquettishness — basically much of our current top 40, they flip their lids over such tracks, fighting to play the next tune of such nature. On the face of it, it’s admirable that they forgo listening to other types of music in favor for something that’s (seemingly) very effeminate. However, I think there is a huge danger/issue in this line of argument.
I say this because when I try to share decidedly more grown, women-created music from the likes of Kate Bush, Aimee Mann or something more contemporary like Julia Holter, Kelela, or Florence and the Machine (not my cup of tea but something that beats what they normally listen to) somehow, 1+1 does not equal 2. For some reason, they just can’t stomach a woman sounding like a woman and singing about topics that aren’t entirely sexual in nature.
Maybe someone else can explain to me how such (theoretically) open listening vessels for “getting in touch with their feminine side” stopped at the younger side of the spectrum? I happen to think it’s because there are truly deeply seeded patriarchal things in pop music that still reinforce some deep-seated image that women have to project to others. We’re half-woke as a culture to this.
You can understand that this comes into play when they’re one of the first to bug me about all things J-Pop idol-related. That’s when things rear their ugly heads into the kind of music I have knowledge of.
Not entirely germane to Japan, but in Japan early strains of pop music unabashedly created an image that’s burned into the minds of far-flung gaijin otakus. Women who sing J-Pop are more like dolls. Fey, dainty, coquettish, whisper-thin voices that only sing about love and heartbreak. Huge eyes and frail bodies looking to be worshiped. Whole YouTube channels are dedicated to simply posting Japanese music as some kitschy/trendy subgenre to promote through reddit/Instagram culture, going even further in separating it from the larger musical world as a whole.
*For those reasons, I have a distinct aversion to share Japanese Pop on this blog if I feel it promotes all those stereotypes. If you’ve read this far, you’ll know now that Yuki Saito’s Love is brilliant because it truly is a worthy piece regardless of its origination. Love is a grown-ass human’s take on life through music that any open-minded listener can appreciate. Much like Yukako Hayase and Kyoko Koizumu (to name a precious few), Yuki could have rested on her laurels, looks, and lucrative acting and Pop career but she pushed herself to do something special.
Nearly a decade after being whisked into stardom, in 1991, now 25,a this Yokohama-native, the star of countless hit Pop singles, CMs, and dramas began writing her own music, producing her own records, and start probing more mature ideas. Before you clap for Yuki, that in itself isn’t why she deserves an accolade, our claps for Yuki are reserved because works like Moon and this album (Love), simply are great pieces of music, far worth your time.
Love found Yuki expanding on her left-turn into minimal pop on Moon. Here, in the largely front-loaded first half of the album, joined by the likes of Mioko Yamaguchi(!) and Mayumi Horikawa(!) — two grown women who know more than a thing about writing timeless music — Yuki extends the length and breadth of her songs. The best songs would not likely be heard on radio. Here we hear the influence of unlikely things like pastoral folk music, of ideas taken from sophisticated urban soul music, latin music (salsa and Brazilian) offer other detours.
Although a few truly joyful songs like “ホントのキモチ” exist, most of Love hovers through languid, mid tempo balladry that would sound great soundtracking intimate moments of all stripes (personal and personal). How else can you explain opening the album with a song like “いつか” which sounds more at home on a Karak album?
The best songs though are where Yuki’s once high-pitched vocals have fully matured into her breathy, chanteuse-like voice adopted slowly since 1989’s âge using it there at her attempt to create house-influenced pop. “Yours” the masterpiece of this album, takes notes from an obvious influence — Sade — to take her own stunning stab on the modal slow jam burners that (sadly) were seldom/rarely heard/made outside of England.
Far from any hyperactive electronic maelstrom, this album is worth it for EBTG, downtempo-influenced tracks like “誰のせいでもない”, spectral soul songs that smolder in a very mature way. Kudos to Yuki for giving another young, old-soul like singer-songwriter Akemi Kakihara a stab at helping her flesh out this one. Although the album does lose steam 2/3rds into the session, it ends on two beautiful tracks that remind of the entirely forgotten work of Takami Hasegawa.
Again, “tasteful” is the key word here. “Julia” is a breezy, barely there saudade-infused bossa nova meander that just hits you in the good place. “意味” ends this album on a graceful note. Just solo piano and Yuki singing and phrasing in a way unheard of before. Slightly operatic, completely graceful, it’s gorgeous in a way that goes beyond any style. What can I say? Class has a way of being timeless, ageless, and being its own quality control. Thankfully, there’s lots of it in Love that’s entirely hers.