The author praises Arcade Fire’s latest album, likening it to the Beatles’ artistry, while exploring why Japanese music and art remain impoverished.
He attributes this to the long-neglected unhappiness of Japan’s mountains, forests, and seas, arguing that true art and philosophy cannot arise from a spirit bound to any authority.
Criticizing politicians, the media, and artists for their indifference, he cites Kazumi Takahashi’s words that those who change the times are the “poor scholars who possess nothing.”
A sharp cultural critique rooted in “Civilization’s Turntable.”

Eternally beloved classmates, dear friends.
Readers of “Civilization’s Turntable.”
Arcade Fire’s latest album is magnificent.
They are approaching the realm of the Beatles, of John Lennon.

As always, I was at the neighborhood Starbucks, listening while being brushed by the evening breeze.
Music, at first, has a depth of resonance… As one improves and trains, each note becomes deep, soft, and indescribably beautiful.
The reason Japanese music, Japanese art, the lofty pronouncements of so many politicians and major newspapers are hopeless, is that in our country, the essential sickness that still exists has never been corrected or solved.
True art, true words, true philosophy cannot dwell in a spirit that belongs to something or someone.

The authors now so popular among the young—well, I am sorry, but if it were only to write at their level, I could do it humming to myself, as I have written until now.

Japan’s problem is this… Japan’s mountain ranges, its mountain peaks, its forests, its seas—are, sadly, in a state of misfortune.
Long ago, when these conditions went wrong, no one tried to change them, to save them.
Japan’s mountain peaks are still deeply unhappy… In a country whose mountain ranges are unhappy, there can be no true happiness, no true freedom, no true intelligence.

That is why Japanese music is impoverished—poor, shallow, slipping quickly into lyricism… In truth, to call it lyricism is presumptuous.
Long ago… the mountain ranges, seas, and forests of Japan were places of literature, elegance, and playful spirit…
Even now, we have not restored Japan’s mountain ranges, forests, and seas.
No one has noticed, no one has returned them to their original places—places of elegance, of literature, of play.

Japan’s mountain ranges, forests, and seas are still deeply unhappy.
They are unhappier than anyone… No one will notice until I begin to write a book.
Only Japan’s mountain ranges, only Japan’s forests, only Japan’s seas have been left behind by egotists of many names, unable to return home.

Because no writer, musician, painter, politician, or incorrigible editorial writer of major newspapers has noticed, Japan’s art, politics, and mass media are poor.
They are shallow.
Japanese music is unbearable to listen to.
Japan’s mountain ranges, forests, and seas have long remained the unhappiest, loneliest of all.

A certain man I met—though I did not wish to meet him—said that one person alone cannot change the world.
He understands nothing.
As Kazumi Takahashi said, “In every age, those who changed the times were the poor scholars who possessed not a single thing.”

September 18, 2010