Episode 6: SALEM and AOR

After graduating from high school, I worked part-time for a while at a
video rental store that stayed open late at night.

When it got late, all sorts of people would come in.

People who rented the same series of adult videos every time.
People who rented every new release one after another.
Some yakuza boss who didn't care at all about late fees.

It was a very interesting place for people-watching.

Around the time I started getting sick of my band activities not going as planned and
my days filled only with part-time work,
I decided to get a job
just to satisfy my mother, if only in appearance.

To be honest,
I was just being stubborn about my mother's words: "If it's something you love, you can keep doing it no matter what, right?"

*

I had an interview for a company I found in a job information magazine, and I asked over the phone before the interview.

"Is it okay if I come by motorcycle on the day?"

"That's fine."

"And, in that case, I'll be arriving in motorcycle gear, is that alright?"

"That's fine."

The day of the interview.
Seeing me appear in a full black leather rider suit, the staff member in charge looked a little surprised.

"Oh, sorry, I did confirm this over the phone the other day, but I was told it was okay to come in motorcycle gear."

"Ah, that's right. However, there aren't many people who come to an interview in that outfit."

The staff member said that, gave a bitter smile, and gestured for me to sit in the seat in front of me.

"So, is there a department you're hoping for?"

"Well... wherever you need the most help is fine."

"When can you start?"

"I could start next week."

“All right, then, starting next Monday.”

And just like that, my life as a full-time employee began.

I was 19.

*

“Demanding, dirty, and low-paying.”

To be honest, that’s what the job was like.

But that didn’t matter to me.

Because all I wanted was to be able to keep playing music.

I would always sing unconsciously while I worked.

Since I often worked in warehouses or outdoors, part of the reason was that the echoes were surprisingly pleasant.

I had told my boss that I was serious about my band activities. Before I knew it, the other employees recognized me as the guy who was always singing.

In my second year, the company held an anniversary party.

For some reason, my boss suddenly nominated me to sing there.

When I finished singing, everyone applauded.

Then they made me drink a lot. I don’t remember much after that.

The workplace was full of truly unique seniors. Some admired Shoken, and others always showed up with their hair styled in a pompadour.

But they all treated me with kindness.

*

Around the time I was entering my third year, a new mid-career hire joined our department.

He was about three years older than me. We hit it off right away, talking about novels and music.

One day, I stopped by his apartment,
which was just a short walk from the office.

In the six-mat room filled with the smell of cigarettes,
there was a glass ashtray filled with Seven Stars butts on a small table,
and a half-finished bottle of Cutty Sark on the floor.
There were also a few Yoshio Kataoka novels
and several CDs stacked up.

He brought two random glasses from the kitchen
and poured the Cutty Sark.

“Sorry, I don’t have any ice.”

“Oh, that’s fine.”

I took a SALEM out of my pocket
and lit it with my Zippo.

From the many CDs he had,
he chose one and played it on a stereo that seemed a bit out of place in this room.

The intro, like a night breeze brushing against my cheeks,
conjured up an image of a yacht harbor illuminated by orange streetlights before my eyes.

After the mellow chorus,
a slightly husky voice could be heard.
It was very gentle, as if it were softly wrapping around me.

Boz Scaggs’ “Harbor Lights”
That was the first time I heard it.

“This kind of music is nice.”

When the song ended, he played a different CD.

The brass phrases were simple enough to make me feel a little ticklish.
But it was a groove wrapped in a strange precariousness,
neither more nor less than it needed to be.

The sound of the electric piano,
the sound of the snare,
everything was to my taste.

And then, when the vocals came in,
something inside me burst.

I quietly swallowed the Cutty Sark I had in my mouth.

Until that song finished,

I couldn’t move from in front of the stereo.

This is the memory
of the first time I heard
Bobby Caldwell’s “What You Won’t Do for Love.”

I felt like I had finally encountered a sound I could truly say I loved,
rather than just what was popular in the world.

Even now, decades later,
I continue to be drawn to the same sound as I was back then.

That day, what I heard beyond the smoke of SALEM
was AOR.

* "Mixed Soup" releases a new episode every Tuesday and Friday.