Jazz from Japan, part 1

A little background & three albums on my radar right now

Ryo Fukui

I still remember the first time Jazz ‘clicked’ for me. Already collecting records in my late teens, I found myself in my local record store to search for some new albums. After a nice chat with the owner I was invited to their listening room — a sound-proofed room filled with hundreds of thousands of dollars in equipment. We listened to a few of my picks before he put on another album to ‘demonstrate something a little different.’

The album was Ahmad Jamal’s 1958 live album ‘At the Pershing/But not for me,’ an electrifying recording from one of the most important American Jazz pianists. Suffice to say, I left the store that day with only this album in my bag.

I’ll admit, my knowledge of Jazz was extremely limited at the time, with no understanding of the genre’s extensive world-wide presence or vast depth. Growing up, Jazz was always around at home, though it was mostly standards and vocalists like Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald playing in the background while my mother cooked or cleaned. Fast forward to my mid-20s and I’d expanded my collection and knowledge of the genre with further exploration beyond the US — first to Europe and then to Japan.

Jazz in Japan has particularly interesting historical context, but rather than attempt to summarize here, I’ll point readers to a great piece NPR did on this a decade (!) ago, which can be viewed here. There is also a good article from The Guardian, which discusses how Jazz artists in Japan remade the genre.

Before diving into my three album picks, something to note as a major roadblock to exploring Japanese Jazz music (or any Japanese music for that matter) is that it can often be very difficult to find outside of Japan. Physical media still reigns as king with very few artists releasing music digitally to streaming platforms. In recent years, YouTube has been an essential resource for Japanese albums, hosting a fairly large catalog often recorded by fans directly from LP or CD. Even today I check there first for any unfamiliar releases to give them a quick listen before buying.

This will be an ongoing series, so consider this part 1 of whoknowswhat. Let’s get to it.

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Teru Sakamoto Trio - Farewell, My Johnny (1980)

The Teru Sakamoto Trio only released a handful of albums under this name, instead opting for an Anglicized ‘Terry Herman Trio’ for the majority of their releases. While I can’t seem to track down any specific reason why, my initial guess was to appeal to Western audiences. The lack of any distribution of their albums outside of Japan, however, confuses me a bit.

Disregarding that odd note, this album is superb. Recorded live at Jazz cafe Johnny, this modal delight features just four tracks, however the trio gives the music plenty of room to breath, with beautiful, soaring interpretations. While the original pressing is extremely expensive — rare even in Japan — there is a a slightly easier to find reissue. This album is also found on Spotify at least, though only under the Japanese title.

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Isao Suzuki & Sunao Wada With The Tsuyoshi Yamamoto Trio, George Otsuka Quintet +2 – Now's The Time (1974)

A recent addition to my vinyl collection after a long stint on my ISO list, ‘Now’s the Time’ is about as close to a ‘dream team’ as one could get from the golden era of Japanese Jazz music, featuring some of the heaviest hitters on the Three Blind Mice label.

From March 22 - 26, 1974, TBM hosted the “5 days in Jazz” special, featuring live performances each day that were recorded and issued as releases. This recording features a laid back side A, including the wonderful ‘Midnight Sugar,’ largely driven by pianist Tsuyoshi Yamamoto and featuring Isao Suzuki on Cello. Side B sees another set from a different group and is a freeform, 26 minute long take of ‘Now’s The Time,’ serving as a higher energy foil.

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Ryo Fukui - A Letter From Slowboat (2015)

While the obvious first album pick from Ryo Fukui would be his first album ‘Scenery,’ I’ve recently been spending some time with this release, which was his final album before he died in 2016.

Entirely self-taught and ever the perfectionist, Ryo only ever released five albums. He did, however, perform frequently at various venues and in his own club, Slowboat, which has been owned and operated in Japan by his wife since his death.

A Letter From Slowboat was recorded in this very club to no audience. The acoustics weren’t the best for a recording and from a critical perspective the album can sound a bit flat at times. However, something about that makes it feel more intimate, like the listener is the only one being played to in the small room. Ryo and the rest of his trio play wonderfully here, capping off decades of performing and recording. The ‘Letter from Slowboat’ may have been a farewell letter in retrospect, but like a note from an old friend it’ll be one I revisit often.