Yukimasa Takebe – Yuusugebito No Uta

The past few years have seen a wealth of ‘60s and ‘70s Japanese folk and rock albums make their way back to the shelves — from Chu Kosaka’s indispensable debut, the official issues of Les Rallizes Dénudés, Makoto Kubota, Jacks, and the incredible work that The Black Editions is doing with the PSF catalog. There are still plenty more to dig out and this one has finally made its way to stateside availability, having been reissued in Japan at the end of last year. Decidedly absent (as was Kubota) from the tracklist on the excellent primer Even A Tree Can Shed Tears, the sole album from Yukimasa Takebe would have fit quite nicely among the ranks on that collection. Similarly rooted in the Western strains of country and folk, the album is a lost gem from 1972 that could easily spring towards the top of any list of ‘70s folk essentials.

Like Kosaka, the record has a sweetly heartbreaking country ripple running through it. A slight twang mingles with strings and somber flutes. Often compared to earlier Neil Young, the album tackles similarly heavy feelings of hope, anxiety, and age, even though its rooted in youth. The record isn’t as heavy as Harvest, but there are moments that certainly dip into the same well. Takebe lightens his demeanor more often than Neil ever would though, letting a gallery of laughs frame “Kon’na ī hi wa Hisashiburi” (“It’s Been a Long Time Since I’ve Had Such a Good Day“) and going faux vaudeville on “Soromongurandi no Shizukana Hibi” (“Solomon Grundy’s Quiet Days). The remainder of Yuusugebito No Uta spends its time staring through the clouds, contemplating changing weather, autonomy, and memory. The record was Takebe’s sole release, a brilliant flash of youth and yearning that, it seems couldn’t be sustained, but is certainly worth its elevation to masterpiece of melancholy.