The first three tracks of DJ Nontoya’s Tokyo Bliss spell out why it’s such an essential compilation, even if it doesn’t come right out and say it. “Garasumado”, which translates to “Glass Window” in English, from 1974, is built around a crisp mid-tempo breakbeat and a roller disco organ line. Its neighbor, “Sabita Gambler”, by Mami Yumukawa, from 1987, is one of the later tracks on offer, coming off as a kind of Japanese Debbie Gibson with some future shock synth bass to funk things up.
Johnny Yoshinaga’s “The Rain” takes things back to the 1970s, its funky plastic Synclavier, disco beats, fusion guitar lines, and soulful backup singers sounding like a sophisti-pop update on Stevie Wonder‘s “Higher Ground”. Sonically, it makes perfect sense, despite none of the three tracks having much musically in common. The first track is a mellow 79 BPM in a major key, while its follow-up is a much more intense 118 BPM while transitioning to a more wistful minor key. The third splits the difference, staying in a minor key but decelerating slightly. It’s the kind of mixing only possible by deep experience or sheer dumb luck.
Given that this is DJ Nontoya‘s third mix of Japanese boogie, funk, and city pop for Parisian reissue label WeWantSounds, it’s safe to say it’s the former. DJ Nontoya is a walking encyclopedia of fabulous, futuristic Japanese pop music. Tokyo Bliss: Japanese Funk, Boogie, and City Pop from King Records 1974-88 is a masterpiece of careful curation and expert mixing, condensing 15 years of city pop obscurities from King Records’ 100-year discography.
For those unfamiliar with the term, city pop was a Japanese pop music genre that became prominent in the late 1970s. A composite of funk, disco, R&B, AOR, soft rock, and boogie, its smooth vocals, breezy beats, cosmopolitan polish, and unabashed embracing of new technologies perfectly encapsulated the feeling of optimism and the emerging leisure class that came with Japan’s takeover of popular global society. It’s the music of Walkmans and Minidiscs, video game consoles and sleek, streamlined Nissans.
DJ Nontoya’s curatorial strategy and deep knowledge—aided in no small part, no doubt, by access to King Records’ vast catalog—also illustrate just how wide a range city pop covers. Tracks like Keiko Toda’s “Fade In” are an excellent example of the adult contemporary/easy listening variety that would later help the genre’s rediscovery as an antecedent of vaporware.
Much of the compilation is devoted to the strands of 1970s music that would later crystallize into city pop proper. Koji Kobayashi’s “Bokura No Date”, from 1978, is a soft-focus slow jam with all-electric piano and glistening chimes. Yuko Imai’s “Hotel Twilight” is sugary cosmic disco driven by funky synth bass and synthetic handclaps. Kumiko Sawada’s “Your Love’s Away” is straight soul/funk with searing soulful smooth jazz sax and Casio drum fills.
“Day By Day” by Masatoshi Kanno dispenses with the smoothness almost entirely, instead sounding like muscular 1970s funk, with a horn section to make James Brown blush and breakbeats like a Mustang. “After Five at Cafe Bar” does the same with disco, with its boogie bassline and “Do the Hustle” handclaps. Finally, Fujimara Band’s “Paper Machine” closes things out seductively, turning in a Muzak take on MIDI-driven instrumental funk.
Given the wide range of styles covered, there’s something for nearly every fan of Japanese pop, vaporwave, or obscure 1970s music. DJ Nontoya is such a treasure as a tour guide and mentor, taking you by the hand and leading you into Tokyo of the 1980s, as is WeWantSounds, who simply do no wrong in terms of reissues. Tokyo Bliss is a fascinating document and an essential listen for anyone looking to learn more about city pop or Japanese pop.