The Miracle of Izumi Yukimura: Between Song and Jazz (1970s)

The Miracle of Izumi Yukimura: Between Song and Jazz (1970s)

Fujio Akatsuka said in a few words, "Songs these days are not very good. Recent songs are of a very low quality. His tone is tinged with the sadness and resignation that one would expect from someone who has spent so much time observing the culture of the performing arts. But then he continues. But I love Izumi Yukimura. Everyone there laughed. There was an atmosphere unique to this era in which harsh evaluations and individual praise coexisted.

Midori Ebina, a member of the younger generation, spoke of the joy of listening to live music rather than music on television. She says, "Singing is not about the sound, but the place. The rhythm you feel at a nightclub. The rhythms in a nightclub, the tenor saxophone notes that linger in your ears late at night in Roppongi. Such experiences are what "music" means to her.

Akatsuka also mentions jazz. In the past, jazz was the music of adults. Now it's young people's pop music. I wonder if the times have changed. Akatsuka does not seem to regret this change, and in fact, he even seems a little happy about it. I'm happy with both.

When Izumi Yukimura's name is mentioned again, everyone nods in agreement. Her voice, her bearing, and her grace. In the midst of postwar anxiety and hope, this singer has crossed the boundary between Japanese and English. The fact that her presence was shared by people of all generations was somehow a relief to everyone.

Music is not a matter of taste. It is about one's time and space. Everyone realized that it is a matter of memory, of how deeply it has eaten into one's time, space, and life itself. It was one of those moments when even the question of whether it was jazz or song music no longer seemed to make sense.