Guitar1017

Today's "Song of the Day" is Alice's "Tooku de Kiteki wo Kikinagara" (While Listening to a Train Whistle in the Distance). It came to mind following the news of Shinji Tanimura's passing.

The guitar solo in the middle is cool, but it's way beyond my ability, so I omitted the interlude. The bass line actually moves a bit more, but I've simplified it. It goes beyond "i+1," after all.

Generationally, I don't know much about Alice. My only image of them was that they were people who often appeared on amateur singing programs on Sunday afternoons (I personally wonder what's fun about listening to amateur singers, most of whom are strangers and not even very good, but in my home where I didn't want to be), and that there were songs often sung on those programs. However, I have one vivid memory: a joint concert between Fujifabric and Sambomaster.home where I didn't want to bethat station was always on).

I wonder when that was. Maybe around 2008? I think it was at Zepp or a venue of that size, but it was a very good concert. Many of the Sambomaster fans were nice people, the atmosphere in the venue was warm and pleasant, and it was a peaceful, fun space and time.
Toward the end of the performance, I think it was during the encore, everyone—Sambomaster, Fuji, and all—sang Alice's "Fuyu no Inazuma" (Winter Lightning), and it was a huge hit. Shimura-san suits kayokyoku (pop songs), doesn't he? Not only that, but he was genuinely and innocently having fun during that "Ah" sighing part, which felt rare and left an impression on me (Shimura-san could put on a smile, and it wasn't that he never laughed, but his smiles were often shy or twisted). I thought that was a side of him we only saw because he was with the Sambomaster brothers.
The Sambomaster brothers are effortlessly relaxed, kind to themselves and others, and peaceful. I don't know many of their songs, but I always went to see them when they were at festivals or events, and each time, I left the venue feeling satisfied.
YOKING-san has a sense of inclusiveness, I suppose. He's nonchalant but deeply kind and warm, which is why I think Shimura-san trusted him, grew attached to him, and was cherished by him. It's thanks to the Sambomaster brothers that I was able to see that rare, beaming, wide-grinned Shimura-san. Thank you.

Returning to Alice, the songs that played on TV were mostly "Champion" or "Fuyu no Inazuma," and for Tanimura-san's songs, it was "Subaru" or "Sarai" on special programs.
"Tooku de Kiteki wo Kikinagara" played when I was listening to the radio casually, and I thought, 'This is a sound I really like!' I desperately switched my brain into lyric-listening mode, caught parts of the lyrics, searched for them immediately, and saved a screenshot of the lyrics and song title (because of my absolute pitch, musical scales are perceived with priority, making it hard for me to reach a song title from lyrics, so I have a list of such 'desperate on-the-spot search screenshots' songs).
This time, I found that screenshot after a long while and read the lyrics. It turns out this was a song depicting someone from adysfunctional family. There were parts I could understand and parts I couldn't.

What I can understand is the part: "Instead of living while resenting the woman who abandoned me."
If you take it out of context, it could be read as a romantic partner, but since it continues with "a place to discard the empty tears hidden in my young heart," it's clear that the one who "abandoned" the "me" is the mother. In other words, this narrator has been without a mother since childhood and was raised by a single parent (the father).
Even if it's a single-parent household, if the parent pours in desperate and appropriate love and manages to provide a certain standard of living, it could develop into a story where the child says, "My old man raised me by himself while struggling."
However, what is repeated is "in this town where nothing good ever happened." The narrator has likely lived an unfortunate life consistently since childhood. Perhaps the family was poor, the relationship with the parent wasn't good—or rather, it might have been hostile, the father might have been absent, or there might have been violence. And because they were a child from such a home, they might have been treated coldly or ignored at school, by teachers and other students alike. It's too sad.

But this narrator says, "Instead of living while resenting the woman who abandoned me (I want to find a place to discard the tears hidden in my young heart)," "I will not lie in my own words," and "I will not betray others." This part is very close to me.
Thinking about hopeless things or hopeless people is fruitless, and being trapped by them lowers your own value. Since I'm living a completely different life, it's far more productive to cut them off as people from a different world, ensure there is no involvement, and explore ways to stand on my own two feet.
And as an individual who should have had dignity, I have spent my days since university gradually accepting, recovering, and preserving myself and my individuality, while respecting the many (rational) people around me who supported that, recognizing that we are each important to one another, and engaging in dialogue to coexist even if there are differences. Though that has vanished now.

What I cannot understand is the "I want to live" part. For someone who has spent their life in harsh circumstances and nothing but unfortunate days, saying "Instead of living while resenting the woman who abandoned me (I want to find a place to discard the tears hidden in my young heart)," "I will not lie in my own words," and "I will not betray others"—even that feels like a huge stretch—but to want to live "in this town" where "nothing good ever happened"??
Perhaps in a case where "nothing good ever happened," one wouldn't be able to maintain such a noble spirit and would first turn to delinquency or crime, or if not that far, become lethargic or misanthropic? And wouldn't one normally want to leave a place where they only had unpleasant experiences??

It's not that "nothing good ever happened" to me, but I actually looked at properties before I quit my job, wanting to move to a place I had no connection to, like Kyoto. I never really wanted to "live" in the first place, but with COVID, thereclassification to Class 5, and quitting my job, I'm steadily making preparations, feeling that the time has finally come to be liberated from living, without even needing to become depressed.

So I think this is a "story" for the sake of "romance." It's likely a perfect fit for the generation of Tanimura-san and those slightly older, who watched the process of Japan's recovery and development from the poverty of the post-war era.
Even if you are poor or suffering now, there is a tomorrow. The future will surely be better than it is now. The generation that could envision such a vision and hope spent a long time in a society that was steadily rising from the scars of war. And because it was an era where virtues and pride as Japanese people (though the connection to pre-war nationalism is subtle) were still shared and functioning among a certain number of people in society, I felt that one could "get drunk" on the (to me, unnaturally) noble landscape of this narrator in a "romantic" way.
On the other hand, I think this "romance" is unlikely to resonate with the generation that spent most of their lives after the bubble burst, and especially the current Gen Z. A generation that grew up watching an adult world filled with lies, including politics, along with a sense of stagnation—especially unfortunate people—are forced to justify "telling lies" and betraying or hurting others because they are constantly confronted with "self-responsibility." Desires alone become bloated. Virtues and pride, the essential things, have vanished, turning into something twisted and net-right-wing. Dark part-time jobs, heinous crimes, prostitution, the spread of STDs, drugs, suicide... With the fruits of the mix beginning to ripen, I think we should carefully examine the current state of Gen Z and the era and environment in which they grew up.

"Tooku de Kiteki wo Kikinagara" was a song I liked as a world of "romance" to immerse myself in as fiction, and also for its sound.
The fact that it's a "steam train" (kisha) and not just a "train" (densha) also stirs up "romance," doesn't it? I like night train songs, especially those about escapism, and Fujifabric's "Cactus Record" falls into that category.

Also, speaking of "steam trains," I remembered something. A long time ago, when I was traveling alone in Europe—I think it was a city in Germany that wasn't a tourist spot—when I got off the train, someone who looked Asian but whom I judged at first glance not to be Japanese said something trivial like, "Your shoelace is untied," in Japanese that wasn't faltering but didn't sound like their native language.
I'm not a backpacker, and I don't wear flashy clothes, but I was moving around in normal attire, and since the image that Japanese people are rich still remained at that time, I am basically wary of people who speak to me in "Japanese" abroad. This is because it often leads to them trying to sell you things once they've gained your trust, or their accomplices stealing your luggage while you're distracted by the conversation (or so I've heard). I was fully on guard and observing my surroundings and the person, but there was nothing particularly suspicious, so I replied, "Thank you," and the person continued to talk. I don't remember what was said there anymore, but it seemed the person wanted to talk to a Japanese person in Japanese. It was indeed a small town where there were almost no Japanese travelers. But why?
From the tendency of the pronunciation, I had a feeling the person might be from a Chinese-speaking region. But they spoke to me in "Japanese" (not English, German, or Chinese). The fact that they knew I was Japanese at first glance and spoke to me in Japanese also suggests an interest in "Japan" or "Japanese people" and the possession of a certain amount of knowledge. But why is this person here? Above all, why are they talking to me like this?
When I looked around, I didn't see any companions. The person was a slender woman about my age. She seemed calm and didn't look like she would use violence, and even if something happened, she didn't seem to have that much physical strength, so I continued to be wary while continuing to respond.
The woman's Japanese was at a level where she had no trouble having casual conversations. However, one thing that was very impressive was that she called the "train" a "steam train" (kisha). Where and how did this person learn Japanese? Was the Japanese she encountered from a generation that used "steam trains" daily, or was it from literature, or perhaps the influence of her native language?
Thinking about such things, I feel like I walked around the station with her for a while. The woman was likely someone living there, though I didn't know if she was studying abroad, and she showed me around the town. I remained wary until the very end, but I didn't encounter any dangerous situations.
I had a feeling that the woman probably thought I saw her as Japanese, and in addition, that she wanted that (in reality, it was different from the beginning, but from the woman's demeanor, I didn't ask about her language or origin). I don't know the background at all.
Now, I can't even remember the name of that town, and I never asked for the woman's name, but it was a very mysterious experience.

As usual, there's a lot of digression.