Music changes when techÂnolÂoÂgy changes. Few musiÂcians have demonÂstratÂed as keen an awareÂness of that fact as HaruoÂmi Hosono, YukÂiÂhiÂro TakaÂhashi, and Ryuichi SakamoÂto, who togethÂer as YelÂlow MagÂic OrchesÂtra (YMO) burst onto the scene makÂing sounds that most lisÂtenÂers of the late nineÂteen-sevÂenÂties had nevÂer heard before — nevÂer heard in a musiÂcal conÂtext, at least. They’d nevÂer seen a band employ a comÂputÂer proÂgramÂmer, nor bring onstage a device like Roland’s MC‑8 MicroÂcomÂposÂer, an earÂly musiÂcal sequencer designed strictÂly for stuÂdio use. That YMO didÂn’t hesÂiÂtate to make these unconÂvenÂtionÂal choicÂes, and many othÂers besides, won them years as the most popÂuÂlar band in their native Japan.
It would be unimagÂinÂable for YMO to have emerged in any othÂer place or time. “Japan had long since remade itself as a postÂwar ecoÂnomÂic engine, but by the late 1970s it was becomÂing someÂthing else: a globÂal emblem of techÂno-utopiÂanism and futurÂisÂtic cool,” writes the New York Times’ Clay Risen. “Sony released the WalkÂman in 1979, just as KenÂzo TakaÂda and Issey Miyake were takÂing over Paris fashÂion runÂways with their playÂful, visionÂary designs.”
Japan had become ecoÂnomÂiÂcalÂly, techÂnoÂlogÂiÂcalÂly, and culÂturÂalÂly forÂmiÂdaÂble on a globÂal scale, and YMO were placed to become its ideÂal repÂreÂsenÂtaÂtives: they had the askew hipÂness and the cutÂting-edge sounds, but it was their sense of humor, eviÂdent in the playÂfulÂness of their music, that took the rest of the world by surÂprise.
You’ll find no betÂter introÂducÂtion to YMO’s work than the hour-long YMO conÂcert at the NipÂpon Budokan at the top of the post. It took place in 1983, not long before Hosono, TakaÂhashi, and SakamoÂto packed the band up and returned to their already well-estabÂlished solo careers. As a unit they’d achieved globÂal starÂdom, playÂing forÂeign venues like Los AngeÂles’ Greek TheÂatre in 1979 and, unbeÂlievÂably, going on Soul Train in 1980. Their earÂly hit “Behind the Mask” even caught the attenÂtion of Michael JackÂson, who recordÂed his own verÂsion of the song for Thriller but left it unreÂleased until 2010 — by which time YMO had reunitÂed to perÂform in Japan, Europe, and AmerÂiÂca, playÂing for new genÂerÂaÂtions of lisÂtenÂers who had grown up immersed in their music, directÂly or indiÂrectÂly.
InfluÂences on YMO includÂed the work of BriÂan WilÂson and GiorÂgio Moroder, as well as music from India, ChiÂna, the Caribbean, the late-fifties-earÂly-sixÂties “exotÂiÂca” fad, and even arcade games. But their own influÂence has spread out farÂther still, shapÂing not just varÂiÂous subÂgenÂres of elecÂtronÂic music but also cerÂtain forÂmaÂtive works of hip hop. If you lisÂten to YMO’s albums today — nearÂly 45 years after their comÂmerÂcial debut, and just a few weeks after the death of co-founder TakaÂhashi — their music still, someÂhow, sounds thorÂoughÂly JapanÂese. Like Isao TomiÂta (whose assisÂtant became their comÂputÂer proÂgramÂmer), YMO underÂstood not just that music changes with techÂnolÂoÂgy, but also that it emerges from a speÂcifÂic culÂture, and in their discogÂraÂphy we hear those prinÂciÂples pushed to their thrilling limÂits.
RelatÂed conÂtent:
Hear the GreatÂest Hits of Isao TomiÂta (RIP), the Father of JapanÂese ElecÂtronÂic Music
Kraftwerk’s First ConÂcert: The BeginÂning of the EndÂlessÂly InfluÂenÂtial Band (1970)
Based in Seoul, ColÂin Marshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities, lanÂguage, and culÂture. His projects include the SubÂstack newsletÂter Books on Cities, the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles and the video series The City in CinÂeÂma. FolÂlow him on TwitÂter at @colinmarshall or on FaceÂbook.
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