Liner Notes: Aesthetics of Capitalism and Resistance in Contemporary
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LINER NOTES: AESTHETICS OF CAPITALISM AND RESISTANCE IN CONTEMPORARY JAPANESE MUSIC A Dissertation Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Cornell University In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy by Jillian L. Marshall August 2018 1 © 2018, Jillian Marshall 2 For Mayuko Ogawa 3 Table of Contents Acknowledgements 5 Notes on the Text 21 Introduction 23 Hate/Love 61 Section I: Aesthetics of Capitalism Idols You Can Touch! 79 Chapter 1: Popular Music 83 3/11 142 Amerika the Beautiful 151 Section II: Aesthetics of Resistance (Part I) Akita-ben 159 Chapter 2: Traditional Music 165 Ugo, Akita 207 The Dance Teacher 214 Section III: Aesthetics of Resistance (Part II) The Scene 229 Chapter 3: Underground Music 237 Last Train/First Train 302 Hatsu DJ no Taiken 306 Peripheral Encounters 309 The Matsuyama Tour 321 The Celebrity 332 Societal Amnesia 337 Epilogue 340 Bibliography 345 4 Acknowledgements, OR a stream of consciousness ish-rant written at 4:30 am on cold leftover coffee about everyone who contributed to this project in any way To blatantly rip off a brilliant quip by my sister – who always has been, and always will be, the coolest, smartest, most beautiful, most badass person on the planet -- in her master’s thesis1, anyone who said they wrote their dissertation alone is a liar. So, Brooke… we’ve long retired our one-for-one competitiveness, but if it weren’t for that, would we have done any of the crazy shit we’ve pulled off over the years? Look, driving the 18-wheeler was really next level, and with that bold play you truly BLEW UP THE GAME. It’s safe to say I’ll never do that-- and the world is better off for it. I recall you saying the same thing about getting a PhD – that it was a quixotic commitment beyond anything you’d want to do at this point in your life.2 No offense— cuz getting a PhD definitely ain’t for everyone – but something tells me it might be better for the world that you opted out of this track, too.2 Potato potahto, right? Anyway, thanks for pushing me to be the best version of myself, way back to when we were kids on the Ridge playing all of our wacky games and weird competitions with each other.3 I was in it to win it, you know, and whenever I actually did it brought such satisfaction because you are, objectively, the best. Our Corel Move cartoons are a testament to this. When I saw your rendition of the Hood Answer Mom, I was utterly awe-struck: I had never seen anything more perfect, more seamlessly 1 About conceptions of home for long-distance truck drivers. Brooke Marshall has also served as a Peace Corps volunteer in Malawi, lived in Antarctica for what will be on two separate occasions, biked across the United States, and thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail. GodDAMN. You’re so amazing it blows my mind on a daily basis. Like a BOSS, HOSS. 2 What I wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall when Kristie and Shannon walked into your room to ask if you were “OK”. 3 Ah, “golf” in the back yard with croquet mallets and soft balls, with you playing under the sensible, actual golfer pseudonym Tiger Woods, and me choosing to play – with no plausible explanation, to this day – as Mel Gibson. 5 flawless, more stunningly beautiful in my entire life. It’s etched in my memory, like being branded by a hot poker. Naturally, I immediately made it my mission to make my own Hood Answer Mom cartoon to try and impress you. However, meticulously learning the software proved unexpectedly difficult, and I had no choice but to cut some corners. Not long after, I came to see that it would also be too much work to replicate your level of craftsmanship, so I further improvised. The result was an accidently flashing black box that I decided to decorate with the spray paint tool to make the only cell I managed to produce look less pathetic; it also seemed plausible at the time to narrate the “cartoon” with a stream-of-consciousness description of the visuals that quickly devolved into asking nonsense questions with a Southern accent, making strange gurgling noises, and laughing at my own technical failures.4 That’s when I realized that I could never match you.5 Now that we’re older it’s nice that we’re not keeping score anymore, but in any case I still think you’re the best. And I definitely could not have written this damn dissertation if it weren’t for your support and understanding—especially during the Padma Days. You blazed the trail, man. OK, anyway, speaking of trails and (blue) blazes, to Dad: the man, the myth, the legend. Thank you for supporting my education, first with Princeton in Beijing back in 2007, and then with that clutch last three thou back in October. Look Dad, you were tough, and sometimes outrageous and totally out of touch, but in the end it all worked out, right? I wouldn’t change a thing. You’re a raw genius, straight-up Good Will Hunting Style: “You know how easy this is for 4 And, of course, proclaiming that goat milk—something I don’t think we ever had in the house, at any point – “is good.” 5 Then again, I exist in certain stratospheres that similarly can’t be reached by… well, maybe anyone. “… you’re telling me you can’t read any Cyrillic?” So us. #phaedrus 6 me? This is a joke. I’m sorry you can’t do this, but it’s a waste of my damn time. And maybe I don’t want to spend my life sittin’ around explainin’ shit to people.” I stand by my theory that you were a professor in a past life, because you always had just the right questions to ask along the way to make me feel supported, and to help me relax about this whole PhD gig. Thanks for everything, Pops. You’re my hero. Also, Spacey 8’s has got to be some kind of training ground for sheer logical abilities. I swear, getting good at that game was more educational (in terms of reasoning and improvisatory thinking) than some parts of college. The waterfront at Revere, Mass: that’s when you knew, and when the torch was handed down. And remember: keep the secret! To Mom: thank you for your endless support. Sigh, your cute little notes. If it weren’t for your postcards, care, and those adorable packages where you spend $7 to send me a $5 gift card to Subway and a $1 pair of socks, I don’t know where I’d be. I’m so lucky that YOU are my Mom. You always believed I could do anything – you always encouraged me and are so proud of me -- and here I am finishing a PhD. But let’s be clear: I couldn’t have done this without getting some of your brains. You’re so intelligent that you literally wanted to know about the content of my dissertation like, word for word, and kept up so quickly that it sometimes seemed that you outpaced me on my own turf. Hey, thanks for understanding when I let you know that I just wanted to be silly when we talk and not discuss about the ins and outs of postmodern theory in my off-time, lol. Shows just how smart you are. Anyway, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. That shit about Phaedrus and Quality really drags on, doesn’t it? PARLOR TRICKS, ANYONE? You’re the best, and I couldn’t have accomplished this without your encouragement, boundless energy, optimism, and the inspiration you’ve provided me over the 7 years with your own amazing journey. Lee: sup hoss? Less is more. Also, sup Stephanie, Ryan, Kristie, Dave, and Olivia? Thanks for keeping it real. Also: PRECIOUS PATTY!! And… hey, Goddrick… Thanks all around to everyone in the family. Special shout-outs to Aunt Jo-Ann (and Uncle Dean), who bought us school supplies when we were young, and for everyone else in our crazy, wacky, tiny assemblage.6 On both sides. Another shout-out to my 86-year-old Grammy Marshall, whose words of encouragement will surely prove true: “Just make up your mind you r doing nothing, o, nada until you finish that necessary job u have been avoiding. You will feel so free you will wish u had done it ages ago. Love u.” AMAZING. To Heidi, Ernie, and Alexis Forte: thank you the week on Martha’s Vineyard every summer vacation. Although it was intimidating at first with all that Lacoste and Ralph Lauren stuff those Kennedy-types wore on the ferry, the island soon became a home, and your hospitality, love, and support are eternally meaningful. Ernie, our late-night political discussions in my early adolescence about capitalism changed the course of my life forever. Seriously, have you seen the title of this thing? As a middle- and high-schooler, you were the first adult to ever take my critiques of capitalism seriously. Hearing you tell Mom and Heidi, and with such pride in your voice, that “Brooke and Jill are RADICALS!!”… that was formative. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Also, yo, thanks to my homeboy Henry David Thoreau. The “Economy” section of Walden: Life in the Woods changed my life, too-- and is probably what got me fired from 6 Claire, Richard, Sara, Alaina, Jack, Bobby, Bill, Grampa, Aunt Skeet, Uncle John + co, and Gummi and Uncle Don from the other side.