The Otaku. Lifestyle Examing Soundtracks In The Anime Canon

ABSTRACT

Japanese animation, or anime, has been popular around the globe for the last sixty years. Anime has its own fan culture in the United States known as otaku, or the obsessive lifestyle surrounding manga and anime, which has resulted in American production companies creating their own “anime.” Japanese filmmakers do not regard anime simply as a cartoon, but instead realize it as genre of film, such as action or comedy. However, Japanese anime is not only dynamic and influential because of its storylines, characters, and themes, but also for its purposeful choices in music. Since the first anime Astro Boy and through films such as Akira, Japanese animation companies combine their history from the past century with modern or “westernized” music. Unlike cartoon films produced by Disney or Pixar, Japanese anime do not use music to mimic the actions on-screen; instead, music heightens and deepens the plot and emotions. This concept is practiced in live-action feature films, and although anime consists of hand-drawn and computer-generated cartoons, Japanese directors and animators create a “film” experience with their dramatic choice of music.
This thesis examines three anime - Death Note, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Cowboy Bebop - for their respective choices in music. Each of these series uses a different genre of music, such as sacred classical music, Western classical music, jazz, hip-hop, and J-pop, to evoke emotion and enhance the drama. Westernization and the U.S. Occupation of Japan influenced each of the genres, with each composer in their respective anime combining Western and Japanese musical characteristics. Only by exploring the music of anime can we really understand its role in anime’s artistic power and the reasons for the lasting impact of the otaku lifestyle in the Western world.
The faculty listed below, appointed by the Dean of the Conservatory of Music and Dance and Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences have examined a thesis titled “The Otaku Lifestyle: Examining Soundtracks in the Anime Canon,” presented by Michelle Jurkiewicz, candidate for the Master of Music degree, and certify that in their opinion it is worthy of acceptance. 

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

The Otaku Lifestyle.

"It takes an idiot to do something cool.
That’s why it is cool."
-Haruhara Haruko, FLCL (2000-2001) 

Growing up in an Asian-American household provided wonderful, enriching aspects of both cultures, though I primarily identified with my mother’s Asian culture. I have fond
memories of my brother and me staying up well past our bedtime and, against our mother’s wishes, watching the anime Cowboy Bebop on Cartoon Network’s late-night sister syndication Adult Swim with the volume all the way down. Although we could not hear the dialogue, the visuals of Cowboy Bebop remained with me, showing that more than the cliché cartoons of Nickelodeon and Disney existed. From then on, I was surrounded by sagas of a far distant past, stories containing oversized robots, and tales of harmless creatures roaming the Earth, looking for everlasting friendship. When I entered high school, I realized that unlike myself, none of my peers obsessively followed the lives of magical, crime-fighting high school girls, which then cemented my status as a geek and outsider. Fortunately, the Japanese coined the term “otaku” as an “honorific, somewhat ambiguous second-person pronoun” to describe those consumed by manga and anime. And, just as with others obsessed with these Japanese genres, I questioned and pondered exactly how I had fallen into the otaku lifestyle. Perhaps it originated from watching anime and playing various video games over the past two decades. Perhaps it was identification with the characters.
Whatever the reasons for my embrace of the lifestyle, I sympathize and agree with blogger Rich’s statement about welcoming otaku. He writes: My life has been enriched by a wealth of otaku activities. I and many other Western nerds were otaku before we knew the term existed. We just lacked the wherewithal to gather and create to the same degree our Japanese counterparts have been for decades. However, Rich’s sentiments beg one question: why the otaku lifestyle? For Japan, anime serves as an additional film genre, one that transcends the “normalness” of humans by depicting instances of the unknown and the technologically advanced. Anime offers many relief from their personal lives, providing an escape from reality. Limitations exist for standard live-action films, and while some exist for anime, the level of content in the latter matches, and potentially even surpasses, live-action films and television. Animated either via computer graphics or drawn images, anime does not simply function as a child’s diversion, but instead functions in Japan as a high art form. Because of the dystopian anime film Akira’s success in the late 1980s, as well as Studio Ghibli’s masterpieces from the 1980s and 1990s, American production companies began creating their own anime, mimicking the animation and directing style. In 2003, Nickelodeon released Avatar: The Last Airbender, an animated series incorporating Eastern themes, primarily from China, and partnering with MOI Animation, a Korean-based animation studio. Additionally, Netflix rebooted the popular Japanese mecha anime Voltron in 2016, partnering with DreamWorks Animation and Studio Mir, another Korean-based animation studio. Aware of the growing otaku culture in the America, Netflix actively partners with Japanese animation studios, re-releases the anime in English, and labels them “Netflix Originals,” with The Seven Deadly Sins (2015) being the most consistently recommended anime.
Avatar and Voltron are but a few of the American anime, and though Netflix, Nickelodeon, and other American production companies utilize Korean animation studios, can these works be considered true anime, alongside Dragon Ball (1986-89), Gurren Lagann (2007), and Bleach (2004-12)? A fundamental aspect negates their inclusion into the exclusive Japanese genre: music. American anime and cartoons feature theme songs explicitly stating the show’s premise and main cast. Cartoon Network’s The Powerpuff Girls (1998-2005) provides a short synopsis in its opening credits with scenes depicting the accompanying narration:

These were the ingredients chosen
To create the perfect little girls.
But Professor Utonium accidentally
Added an extra ingredients to the concoction
- Chemical X.
Thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born.
Using their ultra-super powers,
Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup
Have dedicated their lives to fighting crime
And the forces of evil.

First-time viewers of The Powerpuff Girls will understand the premise of the series prior to viewing a single episode. Furthermore, most music in American cartoons simply serves as supplemental material. Some shows may have recurring themes throughout each episode, such as in Nickelodeon’s Spongebob Squarepants (1999-present), yet they often incorporate new music to fit the specific episode’s storyline. Anime shows such as Black Butler (2008-2014) instead use the same music throughout the entire series, attaching specific songs to characters, moods, or events. Professional orchestras around the world perform compilations of prominent anime music and will even include video game soundtracks in their repertoire. Composers Yoko Kanno and Joe Hisaishi are some of the most well-known Japanese composers, because of their compositions for both popular anime and video games, which include Cowboy Bebop (1998) and Spirited Away (2002), respectively. Clearly, it is time for scholarship to consider anime’s music. Because of the enormity of the anime canon, this thesis examines the soundtracks that have had the greatest impact on Western audiences. The three series examined showcase the unique features of anime’s music. Not all soundtracks can exist separately from their respective anime, and NPR Music Critic Milo Miles notes that only “a few vigorous gleaming, anime soundtracks match the imagination and action of the drawings on screen.”5 Miles offers a few examples of timeless soundtracks—Akira and Ghost and the Shell (2002)—yet the three series explored here rival Miles’s choices not only for their ability to exist outside of the anime, but for their incorporation of Western music and culture into their respective anime and the series’ worldwide influence.
Chapter IV examines Death Note and its use of Western Catholic Music. By incorporating bell chimes and sacred Latin text, and borrowing elements from Western classical music, Death Note shows the Japanese suspicion toward monotheism—in this case Catholicism—by layering the music over an intelligent, yet self-indulged narcissist who labels himself “god.” Chapter V surveys the use of Western classical music in Neon Genesis Evangelion, a saga starring the antithesis of a hero who fights otherworldly beings in giant mechanized robots. Evangelion uses Japanese popular music and Western classical music, albeit in an ironic matter, which is anempathetic toward the depressing narrative. Finally, Chapter VI considers the music in Cowboy Bebop, a science-fiction western. As the only anime on this list to not have an overarching plot, Cowboy Bebop mixes different genres of music, ranging from jazz (generally speaking), to Western art music, to bebop, to hip-hop, to country western, and to electronic music to depict restless, wandering space bounty hunters. These chapters will not attempt to review the entirety of each series’ respective soundtracks; instead, each chapter will show the depth and importance of music to the expressive power of Death Note, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Cowboy Bebop. 

Review of Literature

To provide historical, contextual information for the above-mentioned anime, sources consulted included those detailing Japan’s history and culture, which include the various genres of music and development of manga and anime. Anime is a young field in scholarship and a few sources are foundational. In Understanding Manga and Anime, Robin Brenner focuses on manga and anime by examining their respective origins. He surveys the background of manga and its subsequent transition to the anime. Brenner also examines the impact of World War II on manga and anime, stating that “strong antiwar messages [are] often found in postwar anime and manga.” Ian Condry explores the influence of African American pop culture on Japanese pop culture in Hip-Hop Japan: Rap and the Paths of Cultural Globalization. He looks at the function of hip-hop in Japanese culture, which shows divisions in Japanese society, and questions the appropriation of African American culture by Japanese rappers. Similarly to Condry, Taylor Atkins examines the history and use of jazz in Japan in Blue Nippon: Authenticating Jazz in Japan and questions the authenticity of “Japanese Jazz.” Though published almost twenty years ago, Timothy J. Craig’s compilation Japan Pop! Inside the World of Japanese Culture contains comprehensive information about all aspects of Japan’s culture. He includes sections on popular music, manga, and anime, and the subsequent reception of the aforementioned in the U.S. Crystal S. Anderson’s book Beyond the Chinese Connection: Contemporary Afro-Asian Cultural Production focuses on the use of hip-hop and African American Culture on Asian culture. Anderson provides a basic overview of anime and the influence of Western pop culture, stating that “anime has [developed] into a site for Afro-Asian cultural interaction” and “[features] African American cultural expression.” The chapter “Scheming, Treacherous, and Out for Revenge” provides many different examples of how various Asian movies and television shows, including anime, incorporate African American culture. The sub-chapter “Representin’ in Feudal Times in Samurai Champloo” discusses how “African American hip-hop aesthetics complement Japanese cultural expression,” as the soundtrack for Samurai Champloo uses hip-hop and rap. Besides Anderson’s contributions, little published research exists about music in anime. Milo Miles’s chapter “Robots, Romance, and Ronin: Music in Japanese Anime,” is brief, yet explains the difference in anime music and American cartoon music. Unlike American “mickeymousing,” Miles observes that anime music does not mirror the action on the screen. He examines the use of music in Akira, as well as Cowboy Bebop, making correlations in the latter regarding the “[jump] from genre to mode to form” as the “series’ spaceships” move from “one corner of the solar system to the other.”
In December 2017, Rose Bridges, a PhD student at the University of Texas-Austin, published Cowboy Bebop Soundtrack as part of Bloomsbury Publishing’s 33 1/3 Japan series. In her book, Bridges discusses the music of Cowboy Bebop, focusing on specific sessions and their respective genres, as well as musical characteristics for each of the characters. Her book offers insight on Kanno’s compositions, focusing on Spike and Jet’s musical characteristics, yet Bridges does not fully discuss Faye, who, unlike the other characters, is personified by Western art music. Thankfully, with the limited amount of scholarship focused on music and anime, many general and interdisciplinary resources exist. Bridget Hanna, an education lecturer at the Australian Center for the Moving Image, writes about the learning opportunities Death Note provides.  She uses Death Note to ask challenging philosophical questions:
Are serial killers evil if they are only targeting the bad guys? Is it wrong to sit back and let them continue? Is it bad to kill one person if you are saving multiple lives by doing so? How far would you go to protect yourself or those you love?
Hanna states that “Death Note turns the familiar notions of good and evil on their heads, [and undercuts the audience’s] expectations about the representation of heroes and villains by illuminating the darkness and light that reside in everyone.” She also includes Japaneselanguage and religious studies available for students. Similarly, American scholar Susan Napier, who specializes in Japanese art and culture, examines morality in Death Note. Her article, “Death Note: The Killer in Me is the Killer in You,” states that the “overall effect of the series is…a symphony or tapestry of intentional deaths, woven into a…morally provocative, and…entertaining quest/mystery narrative.” Though she is solely focusing on the Death Note manga, her insight on specific events in the manga correlate to the same events in the anime. Additionally, Dennis Owen Frolich provides a brief summary of Death Note and then focuses on the religious aspects in the series. Frohlich’s article, “Evil Must Be Punished: Apocalyptic Religion in the Television Series Death Note,” focuses on the idea of “apocalypticism” in Death Note and encourages readers to not confuse this idea with the genre of dystopian/postapocalyptic films such as Mad Max and Waterworld. Instead, he points readers towards the book of Revelation in the Bible. Frolich provides examples in Islam, Christianity, and other religions, and concludes that Death Note “not only [supports] apocalyptic religion, but [it] also [depicts] the judgement of sinners.” After his overview of apocalypticism, Frolich provides more background on Death Note. He explains that “light” in apocalyptic religion is a symbol of “goodness and righteousness,” which correlates to protagonist Light Yagami’s assumption that he is “god.” Frolich notes the use of religious imagery throughout Death Note - such as the Shinigami, Ryuk, apples, crosses, angels, bells, and stained-glass windows. As with Death Note, Napier returns again with “When the Machines Stop: Fantasy, Reality, and Terminal Identity in ‘Neon Genesis Evangelion’ and ‘Serial Experiments Lain,’” discussing the anime. Napier examines the use of machines in Neon Genesis Evangelion, which is set in a dystopian world, stating that it “[shows] strong traces of Japanese cultural tradition” and its own “particular hallucinatory world.”Napier situates Evangelion within the history of anime as well as the Japanese culture, citing World War II and the film Akira (1988). She looks at the history of anime following the release of Akira, correlating it to the rise of technology in Japanese culture and American live-action films. Napier’s writings on Evangelion provides pertinent information about the mecha genre, stating that some critics believe the series revived anime from “what they saw as its creative doldrums in the early 1990s.” She further examines specific scenes from the series, chiefly the action-packed scenes, and briefly mentions the use of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” in one of Evangelion’s most memorable scenes. This thesis, then, is only an opening foray into a large field, so my attempt to include the entirety of the series’ soundtracks will be incomplete. Each series still possesses a considerable amount of music to discuss, and unfortunately, the anime music field possesses little scholarly research due to its dismissive nature as simply “cartoon music.” However, even though minimal research exists about music in anime, it represents a new trend in musicology, and I hope my work here encourages the otaku lifestyle. This document will hopefully illuminate and inform readers about this unique, overlooked niche topic and demonstrate how the music in anime heightens viewers’ experiences and causes them to empathize with the characters and storylines flickering across the screen. 

CHAPTER II
MUSIC AND CULTURE

Western Classical Music Influence from Westernization.

Before exploring the use of Western classical music in anime, we must understand the place of that music in Japanese society. Japan’s history with Western music is complicated, stemming from years of forced isolation. During the Edo period (1600-1868), the Tokugawa Shogunate effectively closed Japan off from the rest of the Western world. Sakoku restricted Japan’s involvement with other countries, affecting trade, international relations, and migration. Japan limited trade to Dutch, Indian, Chinese, and Korean traders and threatened death against any who attempted to trade with any other nationalities or who attempted to leave Japan. However, as Americans sought to expand their trade, they naturally looked to Japan. First, the U.S. purchased California from Mexico, opening up the Pacific for their trade. American interests then sought ways access Japan’s ports to sustain their trade and their travels. Their solution to sakoku came in July 1853, when Commodore Matthew Perry arrived in Japan with four ships, providing a letter from President Millard Fillmore, which “called for better treatment of shipwrecked seamen, the opening of ports of refuge where foreign ships could obtain coal and stores, [and] permission to carry on trade.” Perry provided his own letter, stating that if Fillmore’s demands were not met immediately, he would return in a few months with more ships and more troops.
True to his word, Perry doubled his fleet and returned to Japan in early 1854. Seeing no escape from the imminent threat, the Tokugawa council ceded and signed Fillmore’s proposal. This gunboat diplomacy not only benefited American naval forces, but also provided Dutch traders better commerce agreements and allowed the British to sign a treaty with Japan. Over the following decade, Japan slowly turned into a modern state, drawing in numerous Western influences. In the 1850s and 1860s, Japan was fraught with tension, as men rioted and blamed the Shogunate for allowing their country to be overrun by foreigners. Civil wars erupted throughout Japan, and finally in January 1868, citizens accused the Shogun of ineffective leadership, forcibly ejected him from office, and turned to the emperor for security and unity. Emperor Meiji disavowed the Tokugawa family, demanding that rule be returned to the imperial family, implementing censorship laws, and reviving Japanese traditions. From the beginning of his reign until his death in 1912, a period more well-known as the Meiji Restoration, Emperor Meiji accomplished five goals:

1. He separated shrines and temples, effectively dividing Shintoism and Buddhism;
2. He established a system supporting state Shintoism;
3. He pushed for technological advancements to bolster economy;
4. He firmly established the imperial rule and modeled it after European systems;
5. He opened all ports in Japan, as only a few had been opened per Perry’s requests.

  Meiji also emphasized the importance of education, implementing Western studies in music. Children learned songs using Western melodies and tonal harmonies, used Western musical notation, and performed Western music. By incorporating Western musical education, people in Japan could collectively sing a national anthem, the core signifier of a modern, centralized state. The opening of the ports also allowed Christian missionaries re-entry, who hoped to spread their monotheistic religion among the spiritual, but polytheistic Japanese. By introducing Christian hymnals into schools, missionaries accomplished two goals: they could easily train the masses about Western music, and they could assimilate the Japanese into their religion. Meiji’s reception to Western ideology greatly shaped the state of Japan, transforming it into a modern contender in the arts. The introduction of Western classical music into public education also allowed for the creation of orchestras throughout Japan. Amateur student orchestras flourished at universities, promoting the works of Ludwig van Beethoven among others. Professional musicians and ensembles soon followed. Conductor Konoe Hidemaro established Shin Kōkyōgakudan, or New Symphony Orchestra - though it is now known as the NHK Symphony Orchestra - in October 1926. The orchestra primarily performed concerts in Tokyo, yet their music soon infiltrated the airwaves via a partnership with Nippon Hōsō Kyōkai, a broadcasting company. These concerts incorporated music from the Western canon: Beethoven, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Richard Wagner, Pyotr Tchaikovsky, and Johannes Brahms. However, the heyday of the Western classical orchestra declined as Japan and America declared war against each other in December 1941. The Japanese government not only increased domestic security, but also placed restrictions on speech and music, one of which was a ban on Western music. In accordance to wartime policies, the Japanese government forced orchestras to hire only Japanese conductors and to always include one work by a Japanese composer on their programs.  After World War II, orchestras once again flourished in Japan, and today, Japan possesses twenty-five professional orchestras in thirteen of its forty-seven prefectures.  Similar to Western orchestras, Japan’s orchestras each fall under a specific type of management, which include: 

1. “Patron-type” orchestras that receive full support from corporations or regional governments as sponsors;
2. “Independent enterprise-type” orchestras that operate primarily on funds from concert revenues; and
3. “Local-type” orchestras that depend partially on public support from regional governments.

Unlike the U.S.’s reception to new, or “modern,” orchestral works, Japan only performed compositions outside of the canon if a patron or the government sponsored the event. Since the 1950s, Beethoven, Mozart, and Brahms remain the most consistently performed composers in Japan. In addition to orchestras, the piano became common in Japan and the rest of East Asia. During the Meiji Restoration, the piano came to symbolize the upper class, as only those with wealth and status possessed them. However, after World War II, Japan focused on increasing the economy by expanding technology. The tenacity of Yamaha and Kawai bolstered piano production during the mid-1950s to mid-1960s, and by early 1970, Japan exceeded the U.S.’s piano sales. The piano’s status soon transitioned to the urban middle-class, with “Western music quickly [gaining] symbolic power as a marker of middle-class status.”  In addition to producing pianos, Japan also coined one of the leading methods of musical instruction: the Suzuki Method. Developed by Shinichi Suzuki in the 1930s, this method aims to start a child’s musical education as early as two years old. Students under the Suzuki Method do not learn music from scores; instead, these children imitate recordings, memorizing and repeating each piece studied. The Suzuki Method also encourages group lessons and performances, placing all students at the same skill level. Since its inception, the Suzuki Method has swept the globe and is practiced by over 400,000 students in thirty-four countries.

Identity

Western classical music flourished in Japan, no doubt influenced by the amateur, student-led orchestras and the prevalence of the Suzuki method, and after the devastation and humiliation of World War II, many Japanese composers disavowed their heritage, turning instead to Western culture. Many of these early Japanese composers possessed little to no formal training, relying on records for musical training. Furthermore, just as European composers embraced atonality and advanced structures in response to the horrors seen during the war, Japanese composers too turned to abstract forms and disregarded tonality. Tōru Takemitsu (1930-1996) served in World War II, and after the war, the ban on Western music lifted, providing Takemitsu ample opportunities to experience Western music via the radio. After hearing Western music, Takemitsu renounced Japanese traditional music, citing his horrible experiences during World War II as the fundamental reason. From 1946 to early 1950, Takemitsu composed, usually with little guidance from others, referencing Olivier Messiaen as a prominent influence in his music. Takemitsu’s first work Lento in due movimenti (1950) premiered in Kiyose, a suburb in Tokyo, as part of a series called the New Group of Composers. Despite it being his first work, Lento in due movimenti established Takemitsu’s fundamental musical characteristics: “modal melodies emerging from a chromatic background, the suspension of regular metre [sic] and an acute sensitivity to register and timbre.” Though initially not wellreceived, Takemitsu’s work attracted fellow composer Jōji Yuasa and poet Kuniharu Akiyama. The three remained good friends over the years, and in 1951, they, along with other musicians, artists, and writers, founded Jikken Kōbō, an experimental workshop for collaborations in different types of media. While in this group, Takemitsu composed many electronic works, taking inspiration from Pierre Schaeffer, a French composer renowned for his innovations in musique concrete. The 1950s were successful years for Takemitsu, and in the mid-1960s, he and American composer John Cage met, each admiring the other’s music. However, Cage’s use of the I-Ching and his “Zen-inspired ideas about music and the world,” caused Takemitsu to reflect back on his own heritage, “recognizing the value of [his] own tradition.” Takemitsu spent the remainder of his life incorporating Japanese traditional music and elements into his compositions, more evident in his work Eclipse (1966). Written for biwa and shakhuhachi, Eclipse served as Takemitsu’s re-introduction to Japanese music, as it was the first written using Eastern musical techniques. He also composed Voice (1971), Meguri [Itinerant] (1989), and Air (1995) for solo flute, incorporating many extended techniques, such as key clicks, harmonics, and whistle tones, to convey the shakuhachi and elements of the Japanese vocal style. Despite his upbringing, Takemitsu balanced his past, present, and future in his music, showing the importance of both Western classical music and “national” music. 

Popular Music in Japan
American Country Music

Besides the lasting popularity of Western classical music, Western popular music has a large footprint in Japan, and its overall assimilation into Japanese society began with American country music. That this genre was the first embraced seems surprising, yet showings of Western films in Japan were a popular source of entertainment during the U.S. Occupation of the late 1940s. These westerns featured Roy Rogers, Spade Cooley, Tex Ritter, and Gene Autry, who each “provided the musical basis for…a partial merging of the country music styles of the American south east and south west, and a resultant boost in the respectability of the redefined genre.” In addition to films, military radio broadcasts greatly influenced the Japanese’s fascination with country music. The range of country and “hillbilly” music was limited, so Japanese musicians created their own “cowboy groups.” The majority of these groups were comprised of teenagers “from middle-class or upper-class backgrounds” and “aristocrats and even relatives of the Japanese royal family.”This high-class upbringing greatly benefited the musicians, helping them purchase equipment, apparel, and cars; however, because these musicians came from the upper class, they could not identify with the major themes in that cowboy music: “an answer to loneliness…another way of expressing good fellowship…[or an occurrence] in the day’s work, funny or sad.” In place of identification, Japanese musicians focused on appearance and ordered apparel and instruments from the U.S., hoping to provide a vaneer of authenticity to their music.
Radio broadcast programs spread American country music throughout Japan, eventually to Kyoto and Osaka. Army Sergeant Ted “Cowboy” Clemens regularly broadcast Sagebrush Symphony, a program featuring his “folksy delivery [of] the catchy melodies of the cowboy music records he played.” Clemens’s morning show attracted college students at Doshisha University in Kyoto who formed a group called Wild Geese. The group memorized English lyrics to songs and dressed themselves in “cowboy attire, complete with hats,” performing at the university’s founding day celebration in November 1947. University students in Osaka created fan clubs, publishing newsletters and hosting concerts at the Osaka American Cultural Center. Universities in Japan provided a breeding ground for American country music, fostering its growth and eventually developing it into a Japanese popular music.
Post Korean war, Japanese country groups were in high demand among American military bases in Japan. The Wagon Masters, originating in 1951, became the first group “with a national audience,” containing students from Seijo University and previous members of the Chuck Wagon Boys. The Wagon Masters featured vocalist Kosaka Kazuya, a high school dropout from Seijo, whose mastery of the pronunciation and memorization of the lyrics astounded Americans. Hoping to appeal to those losing interest in only hearing English songs, Kosaka decided to translate traditional country songs into Japanese. Kosaka translated many famous country tunes into Japanese, including “Kaw-Liga,” “Ballad of Davy Crockett,” and “Yellow Rose of Texas,” though his cover of Elvis Presley’s “Heartbreak Hotel” glorified him as a “popular music” vocalist and fueled the Japanese rockabiri craze. The Wagon Masters disbanded after Kosaka’s 1957 recording of “Seishun Cycling” (“Youth Cycling”) labeled him a pop star, yet demoted the other members to a backing band. Kosaka’s success in breaking into the American music scene paved the way for Japanese popular music to emerge as its own genre, separate from American country music.

Enka

After Kosuka, the popularity of American country music in Japan developed into a new genre: enka. Primarily known as the love ballads of Japan, enka, “dubbed the national music,” reflects the “heart and soul of the Japanese,” according to Christine R. Yano. Recurring themes from American country music translated well to enka, especially themes concerning unsuccessful romances and the desire to return home. However, these emotions “are characteristically Japanese, drawing upon a long history of tear-drenched sleeves.” Japanese separated their private, personal life from their public life, with enka providing an emotional release for many.
The music is characteristically “pop,” meaning it contains a small rock ensemble, yet also contains elements quintessential to Japan. Musicians followed formulas filled with set patterns to construct enka, a practice not uncommon in popular music industries. However, kata, or patterns, are important in “traditional Japanese arts, such as martial arts, flower [arrangements], tea [ceremonies], and kabuki [theater],” creating an understood and recognizable genre among Japanese. Kata determined all aspects of enka, with the music containing “new combinations from [well-established] repertoire of musical formulas which includes characteristic scales, rhythms, guitar riffs, saxophone interludes, chord progressions, and kobushi [which are] vibratolike ornamentations.” Additionally, songwriters consult a set collection of words frequently used and associated with enka, which include yume (dream), kokoro (heart/soul), namida (tears), koi (love), and many others. The set formulas also determined the performance of enka, with every move…carefully choreographed, from the slow raising of microphone to mouth just before the first note is sung, to the smallest nuance of breathiness, the lifting of one heel, the facial distortion caused by emotions barely under control and finally, in some cases, actual tears streaming down the singer’s face as the song reaches its climax.
Enka performers rarely deviated from the formula, and even though these set conventions might appear as cliché or mundane, the tears of the words and the performance practice elicit strong emotions from both the performer and the audience.
Similar to most Western entertainment markets in the mid-twentieth century, men dominated every aspect of enka. Men found and promoted singers, wrote the lyrics, and produced enka songs. However, most enka focus on the lives and emotions of women, with the lyrics portraying a “man who controls the action, which often consists of leaving, while the woman passively accepts the unhappy hand that fate has dealt her.” It was not uncommon, however, for men to sing songs intended for women, or vice versa, showing that both genders could understand each other. Japan finally established a genre with which all could identify, one that remains a popular genre today.

J-Pop

After the growing success and fascination of Madonna in the 1980s, the 1990s ushered in more pop artists. Musicians, such as Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, captivated audiences with their unique vocal styles supported by electronic and synthesized backing tracks. These recordings entranced young Japanese women, mostly around twelve or thirteen years old, who flocked to record studios. There they were groomed for years, taught how to dress, act, and sing. Only after her seventeenth birthday was one of the girls presented to the world, giving a concert to break into the notoriously fickle pop scene. While most Japanese pop artists, or Jpop artists, relied on others to write the lyrics and record instrumental tracks, JapaneseAmerican Utada Hikaru wrote all of her own music, releasing her first single “First Love” in 1999. Like her American and Japanese counterparts, Hikaru was young, only sixteen years old, yet she enchanted audiences with her unique vocal style. Even though her debut album First Love targeted Japanese audiences, she also combined Japanese and English lyrics, primarily using Japanese for the verses and English in the chorus. In “First Love,” Hikaru also sings two different choruses, first singing:

You are always gonna be my love
Even if I fall in love with someone someday.
I’ll remember to love: you taught me how.
You are always gonna be the one,
and in the second chorus:
You will always be inside my heart.
I always have places just for you.
I hope that I have a place in your heart too.
Now and forever you are still the one.

These lyrics echo sentiments heard in American pop music, such as Spears’s chorus in “I’ll Never Stop Loving You,” where she sings:

From now until forever
That's how long
I'll be true
I'll make you this vow
And promise you now
Until forever
I'll never stop loving you.

Both songs incorporate elements of R&B, yet Hikaru provides all vocals on her songs, something American and Japanese pop artists did not do. Spears’s song is a large-scale production, featuring a backup choir and heavy instrumental track, while Hikaru keeps “First Love” simple, utilizing only her voice and a simple backing track featuring piano. Hikaru’s combination of Japanese and English no doubt aided her emergence in not only Japan, but also the U.S.; however, most Americans are familiar with the songs Hikaru recorded for video games.
In 2002, Square Enix and Disney collaborated and released Kingdom Hearts, a role-playing game, featuring Hikaru’s “Simple and Clean” as the theme song.
Following the success of “Simple and Clean,” Hikaru signed with American label Island Def Jam in 2002, releasing her first full-English album Exodus in 2004. Exodus garnered mixed reviews, with fans claiming Hikaru “self-consciously Americanised [sic] her music to pander to an American public.” A growing debate in J-pop is its authenticity to Japan: is it truly Japanese or does it simply resemble American music? Similarities to American pop music is feasible, especially considering the long political and cultural occupation of Japan; however, “Japanese pop wholeheartedly embraces life in all its dimensions,” containing “strong [strains] of idealism, innocence,” and “closeness to the ordinary, everyday lives of its audience.” The growth of technology in Japan also influenced J-pop, as the “production of J-pop and its empowerment on the market and the music scene…relies on the forces of the market,” differing from other Asian countries whose government advocated and supported pop artists. Furthermore, J-pop artists assimilated other genres into their music, presenting new sounds to Japan.

Hip-hop and J-Rap

While J-pop songs typically deal with love squabbles or friendship, hip-hop in Japan takes a different approach, modeling the style off the U.S. in the early 1980s. Moreover, hip-hop in Japan appropriates all aspects of hip-hop culture, ranging from speech to appearance. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, the dance scene in Japan erupted, yet it was not until the 1983 film Wild Style that hip-hop came to Japan. Set in New York City, Wild Style features Zoro, a graffiti artist, and his confrontations with Virginia, a journalist. Wild Style includes many prominent rap artists from the period, such as Grandmaster Flash, Busy Bee Starski, Fab Five Freddy, and the Cold Crush Brothers, and also includes activities commonly associated with hip-hop musical culture, such as turn tabling and beat-boxing. The film also incorporated breakdancing, causing people in Japan to work toward re-creating the movements and music seen in Wild Style and adopting the hip-hop lifestyle. DJ Krush, a pioneer in hip-hop in Japan, credits Wild Style for “saving him from a life in [the Yakuza.]”
Over the next several decades, Japanese artists struggled to adapt Western idioms into their songs. Stress accents do not exist in Japanese, and “the Japanese literary tradition did not emphasize end-rhymes,” which is a common occurrence in Western rap songs. The discrepancies in the languages forced artists to decide if they performed in Japanese or English, with either option potentially hindering their outreach. Hip-hop artist Itō incorporated a rhyming bible into the liner notes of his albums, arguing that “the Japanese language could be transformed by rap,” and the heavy use of English-derived words allowed him to make new, often irreverent associations between concepts.” Similarly to Hikaru’s combination, Itō’s mixing of the two languages allowed Japanese audiences to appreciate the rhyming scheme and for American audiences to understand portions of the song.
A growing debate in scholarship about Japanese rap is the (mis)appropriation of African American culture. Japanese rap artists darken their skin and fashion their hair into dreadlocks, which “is perhaps the most striking expression of hip-hop devotion in Japan.” Scholar Ian Condry notes that “hip-hop [came] to Japan above all as black music rather than American music…with racial connotations emphasized more than national origins.” In 1995, Japanese rapper Banana Ice recorded a song entitled “Imitation + Imitation= Imitation,” criticizing adolescents for their choices in altering their appearance - i.e. as “a sign of respect toward African American musicians.” In the song, Banana Ice raps: “Your parents, your grandparents are Japanese/You can never be the black person you want to be.”
Other Japanese rap artists, such as Dabo, argue that by choosing to ignore all aspects encompassing hip-hop culture - including music, appearance, and dress - they inadvertently disrespect African Americans and hip-hop. The cover to Dabo’s album Hitman features him holding a gun and wearing a do-rag, platinum chain, and a baseball jersey. The cover to Hitman “reinforces the idea that Japanese hip-hop…superficially [copies] the styles seen on MTV and in music magazines, [misses] the deeper significance of hip-hop, and [reinforces] stereotypes about African Americans.” Dabo’s misappropriation of African American hip-hop culture miseducates Japanese youth, showing that successful African American rappers dress and behave in a similar fashion. Uzi, another Japanese rap artist, instead “[relies] on…exotic markers of Japanese ethnicity—namely, samurai imagery - …[claiming] descent from a samurai family.” Uzi adapts hip-hop aesthetics into his own culture, refusing to misappropriate African American culture. This notion, however noble it may seem, also ignores and possibly even insults the roots of African American hip-hop culture.
Japanese musicians defend their use of hip-hop, writing “lyrics to highlight divisions within Japanese society [that occur] between impotent politicians and outward-looking youth.” While Christopher Deis, professor at Kalamazoo College, has argued that hip-hop does not automatically possess political ideas, Japanese rap artists consciously incorporate politics into their songs. For instance, Utamaru and DJ Oasis collaborated on “Shakai no Mado,” or “Society’s Window.” Though not explicitly voicing political ideas, the lyrics echo a worrying sentiment:

When something’s rotten, put a lid on it
[But] sometimes it’s fun to open it up.
Completely closed, the sacred inner sanctum,
How long has it been from the last restart?
The rusted zipper on the fly of the pants
Completely rotten, in there it’s big. If left alone, it’s a cancer on the world.
Do you want to make such a strong stench? I can’t understand you, you shitty old men.
Entrusted with the textbooks,
You make up a smoldering fantasy
On the pretext of representing Japan’s “pride.”
Huh? I misheard you, you must mean blind.

Utamaru believes that politicians in Japan want to ignore its troubled history. With their lyrics, Japanese hip-hop artists influenced communities of people, creating political and social change. 

Jazz in Japan

Unlike the other American popular music styles embraced by segments of Japanese culture, Japan did not openly welcome jazz. Jazz’s introduction to Japan in the 1920s come with negative connotations: “barbarism, primitivism, savagery, and animalism,” and its overall timing made it difficult for the genre to thrive. During the years leading up to World War II, Japanese law enforcement placed bans on jazz, forbidding its creation and performance. Police labeled jazz a “decadent drug,” harassing establishments that allowed jazz performances. Artists sneakily attempted to evade law enforcement by arranging Japanese and Chinese folk songs and melodies into jazz tunes. Other artists also incorporated patriotic or nationalistic themes into their music, showing that jazz benefited Japan.
Despite World War II-era Japan condemning everything anti-Japanese - especially anything resembling American culture - law enforcement still permitted jazz while forbidding the use of English or the performance of traditional American songs. This action led to an increase in nationalistic musical efforts by the Japanese government, as they hired musicians to tour to battle camps and boost morale. These patriotic efforts soon influenced the government to eliminate all aspects of jazz from the Japanese music vocabulary, including setting limitations on instrumentation by removing the banjo, steel guitar, and ukulele, reducing the number of saxophones, banning the trumpet mute, and prohibiting the use microphones in venues holding less than 2,500 people. Instead, touring musicians performed government sanctioned music, usually consisting of Japanese popular music, marches, and military songs. As the end of the war neared, and after realizing the coming Allied victory, Japanese military musicians ceased performing and joined in the remaining days of battle.
Despite these efforts, Japanese officials condemned jazz, and musicians quickly worked to re-structure jazz for Japan. By re-categorizing the genre as “light music,” musicians could still perform jazz, albeit with restrictions. Broadly, “light music” contained:

1. music with melodies that accentuate the characteristic ethnicity of each country;
2. nimbly merry music (that is not merely riotous);
3. joking light music; and
4. lyrical music

yet excluded:
1. music with a riotous rhythm that loses the beauty of the melody;
2. music that causes lascivious and lewd emotions; and
3. decadent or ruinous music that caused idleness.
By establishing their own form of “jazz,” Japanese musicians could continue performing and cultivating it.

When U.S. Military Forces occupied Japan in the late 1940s and 1950s, they attempted to stabilize Japan’s economy and create a new sense of nationalism amongst the Japanese people. General Douglas MacArthur, holding the position of Supreme Commander of Allied Powers (SCAP), established bases throughout Japan, sending musicians to change the country’s attitude toward jazz. U.S. military forces regularly performed variety shows for the Japanese that featured jazz; however, the number of American military musicians in Japan was low, and SCAP encouraged American musicians to find Japanese musicians who could play music. Americans taught the Japanese how to read jazz charts, as performances in clubs demanded short tunes, hoping to generate as many ticket sales as possible throughout the night. Just as with American country music, jazz also infiltrated Japan through radio, yet this time with a political agenda. Influenced by SCAP, the Japanese government hired musicians to perform jazz on the radio, deeming it “democratic propaganda,” as jazz during this time period “[represented] the cultural power of the victor.” The Japanese government also established the Recreation and Amusement Association (RAA), whose sole purpose was to entertain American troops. The RAA created and funded clubs, dance halls, and bars exclusive to American troops. The establishment of the RAA - no doubt influenced from SCAP - paved jazz’s path in Japan, showcasing the nation’s finest musicians to American troops, proving it to be a viable export.

“Japanese Jazz”

Today, Japan hosts some of the world’s largest jazz festivals each year, yet one of the biggest issues surrounding “Japanese Jazz” is that of authenticity. In Western studies, “authenticity” is a fraught term often used in performance practice studies as in “an authentic performance is an artistically successful interpretation of a composition.” Along this vein, from the 1940s to 1960s, prominent jazz musicians deemed anything played by non-African American musicians as “fake jazz.” Formal jazz training was non-existent, with most musicians pursuing an apprenticeship model with those established in the field. The Japanese modeled their own studies on this approach, yet instead of directly studying with a prominent jazz musician, the Japanese would listen to and study recordings. However, in comparison to Western classical studies, Japanese professors and scholars attempted to persuade young musicians to treat jazz as a hobby. The emphasis on the mentorship program politicized jazz in Japan, only allowing those with prominent names attached to their resumes to perform in clubs.
The call for originality in Japanese jazz also contributed to the overall aesthetic of authenticity. The rigorous upbringing rooted in Western classical music studies through the Suzuki Method trained Japanese jazz musicians to be skilled technically advanced, yet few possessed any originality. By listening to an artist’s recordings, professional Western jazz musicians can determine the nationality based on his or her style of playing, often referring to the Japanese style as bland, unoriginal, and uninspiring to jazz culture. Japanese jazz pianist Yasumi Takashi corroborates this Western opinion, stating that Japanese musicians excel in technical passages, yet cannot adequately express themselves via improvisation.
Many Japanese critics share Takashi’s opinions of Japanese musicians. Jirō Kubota believes that jazz cannot be divided into nationalities, as all jazz is universal. Jazz arranger Keitarō Miho agrees with Kubato, stating that Japanese have no sense of nationality, and even though they could differentiate between French and American music, Japan is an “‘assortment of American things and French things.’” Miho further explains that Japanese people obsessively label things as “Japanese,” a trait influenced by Western ideology. Other Japanese critics, such as Ryūji Kawana, however, glorify “Japanese jazz,” calling the Japanese’s ability to arrange folk melodies into standards as “‘truly excellent Japanese jazz.’” If “Japanese jazz” represents Japanese culture, does it also misappropriate African American culture? The Japanese knew the history of African Americans and understood their battle with oppression, despite the abolishment of slavery several decades prior. In many ways, the U.S. Occupation oppressed the Japanese, with the latter believing that jazz could communicate their frustrations and emotions, especially considering their society opposed emotional expression or response. Regardless of the authenticity of “Japanese jazz,” it remains a viable source of entertainment in Japan and throughout the world, influencing and impacting other mediums.
Each of these genres - Western classical music, Western country music, J-pop, hip-hop, and jazz - still function today in Japan’s society and have transcended into different mediums including anime. J-pop artists, such as Utada Hikaru, gained popularity in the U.S. because of their adaptation to Western ideas and feelings. The development of hip-hop and rap in Japan established conversations between youth and politicians of the time, correlating to the discussions already recognized in the U.S. among the African American community. The lack of portraying emotion also garnered negative feedback from many Americans regarding the Japanese’ performance of jazz. Despite the immense Western influence, Japanese artists and composers adapted these Western methods, theories, and ideas into their music, hoping to elicit responses among audiences. Japanese composers could combine all of these Western-made genres into soundtracks made for what is arguably their greatest export: anime. Anime provides composers an opportunity to create soundtracks showing the Western world’s impact on Japan’s culture, society, and music.

CHAPTER III
ANIME

A Brief History of Manga

Fifty years ago, the top recreational activity in Japan was reading, and today, it remains in the top five, surpassing movies, music, and shopping. This statistic comes as no surprise, though, as the literacy rate in Japan is high, partly due to Japan being isolated for so many centuries. Because of the lack of colonization, “higher education [in Japan] was rarely conducted in European languages…[which] produced high literacy and united the populace under a common language.” Despite being one of the youngest Asian countries, Japan’s high literacy rate also stems from its early establishment of texts. The Kojiki, the Nihon Shoki, and the Man’yōshū, were written in the early eighth century. These texts were written on scrolls in a modified Chinese-Japanese language. The introduction of literacy from the Chinese allowed the Japanese to write historical stories, creation myths, and poetry. China introduced Buddhism to the Japanese, and in the twelfth century, Buddhist monks used scrolls to create sequential art, which is described as a “[narrative] format that defines and shapes all comics…presented in sequence across a page.” Bishop Toba created Chōju Giga, or “animal scrolls,” which showed sequences of “expressive and humorous scenes of animals, including monkeys, foxes, rabbits, and toads, acting out the activities and pastimes of members of the clergy and nobility.” Unlike traditional Western text or comic strips, Chōju Giga scrolls read right to left. Buddhist monks primarily used Chōju Giga scrolls as part of their cultural and religious studies, yet the practice of reading scrolls soon became public.
Yoshiwara was a “suburb” in the capital city Edo, providing entertainment and artistry through teahouses, restaurants, theaters, and brothels. Artists typically crafted ukiyo-e panels to depict the nightlife and beauty of Yoshiwara, and the depiction of life became essential in manga. In the Tokugawa Era (1600-1867), artists experimented with woodblock printing, creating ukiyo-e, or “pictures of the floating world,” which are “panels of illustration…[filled with] splashes of vibrant color and pattern [which] documented the life and activities of…Yoshiwara.” Hokusai Katushika, an artist famous for the woodblock The Great Wave off Konnagawa, called his artworks “manga” (1815). Katsuhika’s ability to create specific moments in life on woodblocks allowed for the mass production of early manga. Artists compiled their works into bound books, known as Toba-e and kibyoshi. Toba-e were modeled after Chōju Giga, containing numerous cartoons, while the kibyoshi contained stories depicting everyday life and fables. From there, artists developed more cartoons and comic strips, eventually resulting in the creation of the manga magazine Shōnen Club (1914), which regularly published artists’ works. The popularity of these comic strips encouraged illustrators to publish books.
Authors were also inspired by kyōyō-shugi: “[a] belief that a thorough grounding in the liberal arts was a crucial element in self-improvement and character-building.” This belief originated during the Taisho Era, no doubt influenced by the liberalness of German education. Japanese men “[regarded] western literature as the pinnacle of human cultural achievement.” Manga artists surveyed copious amounts of Western literature, music, and films, drawing inspiration from these mediums for their stories.
Though artists could express political disproval in their comics, the prohibitions of World War II condemned them to silence. Artists could either work for the government, by pushing pro-war comics, creating their artwork in secret, or fleeing the country. Then the nuclear bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, the fallout of World War II, and the U.S. occupation of Japan all served to change artists in post-war Japan. The U.S. occupation introduced cartoons as part of the cultural effort to “defeudalize” Japan by exposing [them] to Western ideals of individualism and freedom. This effort included movie shows that followed the American format of the day: a newsreel, a cartoon, and a main feature. Comic books arrived more informally, in the kit bags and rear pockets of the G.I.s themselves, [and] they quickly made their way into the popular culture of Japan.
As a result of these influences, artists produced red books, or tiny pocket books, which examined the “conflict between man and technology” and the “threat of apocalypse.”
These red books allowed artists to regain their creativity following the period of governmental control, and they responded by producing more manga and encouraging new artists. Tezuka Osamu, “heralded as the grandfather of Japanese comics,” experimented with the content and format of the red books. Tezuka was a doctor who incorporated history, humanism, and politics into manga. Unlike other artists, Tezuka was influenced particularly by the cinema, particularly animated films by Walt Disney. Tezuka “was entranced by the drama that editing lent to cinematic storytelling” and mimicked those camera angles on his pages. Tezuka believed this technique could be used in a variety of different genres, and instead of writing stories suspending time, he focused on “the passage of time,” creating “long story arcs and in-depth character development.” He wrote three graphic novels, yet his most revered is Budda. Originally appearing in manga magazines from 1972 to 1983, Budda focuses on “battles and acts of heroism and tragedy, [yet] also focuses on serious ‘adult’ themes - love and death; the quest for truth, goodness, and the meaning of life; and…Tezuka’s own humanistic interpretation of the Buddha’s spirituality.” Unlike other manga authors, Tezuka did not use Budda to popularize and propagandize Buddhism in Japan. Instead, he desired to share his fascinations with audiences, hoping to engage them with an exciting, adventure-filled story.
Over the next several decades, avid manga readers began desiring more mature content. The stories by Tezuka and others were deemed juvenile, and readers - specifically men - wanted adult stories. Their wishes led to the creation of gekiga, or drama pictures, which “[featured] men as heroes…[incorporated] violence, sex, or crime…and embraced antiheroes as protagonists.” Since gekiga provided an outlet for young men bored with their lives, sales skyrocketed. However, women and female readers were not represented in early manga, and by the 1970s, women joined manga companies to increase manga’s demographic reach and bolster sales. The inclusion of women in the creative process ushered in a new genre: shōjo. Unlike the maledominated gekiga, shōjo incorporated “tales of a fairy-tale European past…[ignoring] realism and [adhering] to historical fact in favor of drama, romance, tragedy, and fabulous costumes.” These genres, including shōnen, dominated the manga market, and some of the finest manga would soon dominate another medium.
From the Page to the Screen
In 1937, Walt Disney Productions released Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, the first fulllength animated film to be in color and have sound. It was a commercial and critical success, influencing many artists to pursue careers in animation and offering a medium for families to experience cinema together. Once televisions became more standard in U.S. and Japanese households in the 1950s, production companies created short broadcasts, much of which merely contained news or advertisements. One of Tezuka’s innovations was establishing a “made-forTV format of 30-minute episodes,” which is now common to anime, though these episodes lasted only twenty-three minutes due to advertisements. Because of Tezuka’s admiration of Disney’s films, his subsequent mimicking of those movies in his drawings, and his ability to match broadcasters’ short viewing times, his manga Astro Boy translated easily to television and broadcasted from 1963 to 1966. Set in the year 2000, Astro Boy features a young boy robot aiming to rid the world of crime and evil. Through the stories of Astro, Tezuka showed Japan that they had the ability to persevere after the devastation of World War II and to “re-invision their country [as] one built on technology, energized through hard work and good will, and devoted to a new world order of machines and peace.” Regarded as defining the mecha genre, Astro Boy was highly acclaimed and became immensely popular, “despite the drastically simplified animation and low-grade production values.” Because of the success of Astro Boy, manga became the primary source material for anime, attracting young adult men to the growing industry.
The 1970s paved the path for manga and anime in the “underground of Western culture.” Fans translated the anime or simply watched it for the animation style. U.S. distributors initially translated and edited two series, Macross and Mach Go! Go! Go!, which were later renamed Robotech and Speed Racer, respectively. However, fans became frustrated with the drastic alterations U.S. distributors made - such as changing aspects of the storyline or dialogue - and the inaccessibility to many other anime. Sociologist Kōichi Iwabuchi described the alteration of imported anime as “cultural odorlessness: the [effort] made to promote Japanese products abroad by reducing or erasing cultural identity.
In 1988, Katsuhiro Otomo adapted his manga Akira into a feature film. Regarded by many as the most influential anime, Akira “hit like a cultural bomb in U.S. art house movie theaters…[telling] an elaborate science fiction drama featuring a post-apocalyptic Tokyo, rival motorcycle gangs, and a mysterious and mutilating government gone awry.” While many who watch the film are unable to describe its basic premise, Akira “[shocked, exhilarated,] and left audiences wanting more…anime to feed their desire for more of this newly discovered entertainment.” The striking visual style, filled with an array of bright colors and distorted images, astounded audiences accustomed to the simplicity of animation by Disney and Warner Brothers. Building on the cult success of Blade Runner (1982), Akira provided U.S. audiences with an “otherworldly” or unfathomable scenario: the overwhelming possibility of a “future defined by government control and genetic tinkering.”
The next major anime boom in the U.S. was inaugurated by the 1995 film Ghost in the Shell by Shirow Masamune. Ghost in the Shell focuses on Motoko Kusanagi, a female cyborg tasked with leading Public Security Section 9: a counter-cyberterrorist organization in futuristic Japan. Earlier science-fiction films, such as Logan’s Run (1976), encouraged the fantastical world American audiences craved, which undoubtedly influenced the popularity of Akira and Ghost in the Shell. Seeing the success and cult fascination with Akira and Ghost in the Shell, U.S. film companies continued making dystopian films focusing on government control. Films such as Total Recall (1990) and Gattaca (1997) fueled this new fascination, though anime’s newfound popularity in the U.S. would intensify over the next few decades. While the U.S. only has thirtytwo animation studios, Japan has over seven hundred anime companies. The most well-known company in Japan is Studio Ghibli, and this is partly due to writer Hayao Miyazaki’s creations. His first feature film, Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984), was groundbreaking for its plot, animation, and characters. Over the next two decades, Miyazaki wrote and directed some of the most popular anime films in Japan and the U.S.
Music in Anime Unlike Western film music studies, there is a lack of introductory information for music in anime. Japanese record label Rhino released an anthology titled The Best of Anime in 1998, and today, two decades later, it remains the only anime music compilation. Because of the outdated anthology, most consumers scour anime fan sites, hoping to receive show recommendations. The leading contender on most fan sites are Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli. The success of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind launched a collaboration between Miyazaki and composer Joe Hisaishi, whose compositional style blends European and Japanese classical sounds, minimalism, and electronic music, using the piano as a focal point in many of his works.  The popularity of Miyazaki’s films combined with Hisaishi’s scores showing the significance of music in anime caused many composers and directors to follow suit, placing importance on the theme songs and music.
Unlike music for animation in the U.S., anime music did not mimic, or “mickey mouse,” the images on the screen. The music often centers on a single theme that is reiterated or re- arranged throughout the anime. Because Japanese view anime as a subgenre of film - such as horror, science-fiction, or comedy - it is logical that composers would compose with the same musical material and create genre conventions. Late Japanese film critic Taihei Imamura (1911- 1986) wrote Manga Eiga Ron (Film Theory Book) in 1941 and “[suggested] that there is an indelible link in Japanese animation between the traditional storytelling format and its music.” Film music scholar also Kentaro Imada notes that:
The tendency in analysing [sic] Japanese animation music has been to compare it to a model provided by tightly synchronized Western (especially USA) feature films. As such, Japanese animation is deemed inferior, particularly in respect of its music. Although it is impossible to ignore the influence of Western animation, this may be irrelevant to most contemporary Japanese mainstream productions in terms of music production. While Japanese animation employs Western musical elements, it does so with a specific sociohistorical approach and this determines a sound and style that is notably different from US and other western mainstream productions.
Many anime soundtracks combine different genres of music, ranging from Western hip-hop and electronic to traditional Japanese music. This occurs because certain storylines, scenes, and/or characters require a different style of music. However, some anime focus primarily on one or two genres, which are often related to each other and the show.
Most series rely on non-diegetic music, “whose supposed source is not only absent from the image but is also external to the story world.” Simply put, non-diegetic refers to the background music accompanying scenes to elicit emotion within viewers. However, a common trend in anime is to create series based solely around the music, incorporating diegetic music, “whose source appears in the image, and belongs to the reality represented therein.” These series generally look at the cultural and emotional impact music has, or had, on Japanese culture. For example, Shinichirō Watanabe adapted the manga Kids on the Slope (2007-2012) into an anime in 2012. Kids on the Slope looks at 1960s Japan and the influence of jazz on youth culture. Though the series consists only of twelve episodes, each is titled after a jazz standard jazz. For example, episode one is labeled “Moanin’,” which was an album and song by Art Blakely and the Jazz Messengers. More recently, anime Your Lie in April and Nodame Cantabile examine the pressure many Japanese youth undergo studying classical music. These series use classical music to fuel their storylines and to also show the cultural impact this music has had on Japan.
Because directors use music to propel their stories, the melodies, harmonies, and rhythms are often simple, providing audiences an easy entrance to the anime’s world. Some series use music atmospherically or aesthetically, while many will create leitmotifs, helping viewers realize important events or people throughout the show. Leitmotifs are common in Western films, with the most recent, notable, and memorable appearing in John William’s music for the Star Wars franchise by George Lucas. Fans of Star Wars will understand plot twists and character developments because of the leitmotifs - such as “The Force” and “Darth Vader’s Theme (Imperial March).” Anime composers collaborate with the directors, both seeking to replicate the same passion Lucas and Williams incited with their fans. Because anime episodes typically last approximately twenty-three minutes, with each series containing twenty-six or more episodes, composers will use the same leitmotifs throughout each episode, guiding viewers through plot developments.
Unlike most modern Western television shows, theme songs in anime serve an important role. These songs, combined with a video montage, explain the premise of the series and will sometimes offer clues for events in the series. Just as with U.S. television shows, anime theme songs generally remain the same for the entirety of a series. For example, the longest running anime Pokémon uses a catchy pop-rock tune to introduce the series to viewers. Ash Ketchum serves as the show’s protagonist, and after receiving a Pokémon named Pikachu from his neighbor Professor Oak, Ash travels the globe, striving to become a Pokémon master by catching, training, and befriending many different creatures. The theme song echoes this sentiment:

I wanna be the very best,
Like no one ever was.
To catch them is my real test,
To train them is my cause.
I will travel across the land,
Searching far and wide.
Teach Pokémon to understand
The power that's inside!
Pokémon, (Gotta catch them all)
It’s you and me.
I know it’s my destiny.
Pokémon, oh, you're my best friend,
In a world we must defend.
Pokémon, (Gotta catch them all)
A heart so true.
Our courage will pull us through.
You teach me and I'll teach you
(Po-ké-mon) Gotta catch 'em all.
Every challenge along the way
With courage I will face.
I will battle every day
To claim my rightful place.
Come with me, the time is right.
There's no better team.
Arm in arm we'll win the fight,
It's always been our dream!

From the theme song alone, viewers identify Ash as the protagonist and the sole person wanting to befriend and care for Pokémon, unlike others in the series who only want to use Pokémon for personal or political gain. Like many other shows, Pokémon had the theme song, as well as many other songs on the soundtrack, written specifically for the series. Directors will also hire popular artists in Japan to write and record theme songs for their shows. This musical placement provides extra exposure for the artists and publicity for the anime. For example, in 2008, famous pop-rock artist T.M. Revolution wrote “Resonance” for Soul Eater, an anime focusing on students eradicating the world of evil souls, transforming their “weapons” into death scythes, and learning how to do both at Death Academy from Lord Death. By using popular musicians, anime studios provide exposure for these artists to a new audience, as well as promoting their new series to the artist’s fans.
Some series have theme songs that are less obvious than Pokémon’s, but the song still informs viewers of the basic concept of the show. As previously mentioned, many anime discuss Japan’s past and fictionalize storylines, and directors choose certain genres of music to emphasize important cultural events in history. For example, Watanabe also directed Samurai Champloo (2004-2005), an anime set during the Edo period that focused on the story of Jin, Mugen, and Fuu. Fuu, a waitress, was working at a tea shop when a group of samurai started to sexually harass her. Mugen, a poor wanderer, offered to save her if she gave him free dumplings, so she obliged. Mugen attacked the band of samurai, just as a young rōnin - or samurai without a leader - joined in on the fight. Mugen decided Jin was a worthy opponent, and the two began fighting. However, they inadvertently kill a magistrate’s son, a crime for which they were to be executed. On the day of their execution, Fuu saves them, asking them to travel with her to find a samurai who smells of sunflowers. Samurai Champloo references many factual and historical occurrences in the Edo period - such as Hishikawa Moronobu, a prominent ukiyo-e painter, the persecution of Christians, and Dutch exclusivity in Japan.
Watanabe defined “champloo” as “mixed up” or “to mix”—in Ryuku dialect. This definition accurately describes the mixture of hip-hop and rap aesthetics with samurai culture. Samurai Champloo “uses African-American hip-hop to articulate youth-driven Japanese individualism” and “addresses both ethnic and national dynamics, [reinforcing] the synergy between the two cultures.” This sentiment is evident throughout Samurai Champloo’s soundtrack. The theme song, “Battlecry,” written by the late Nujabes, a popular hip-hop artist and record producer in Japan, juxtaposes hip-hop with lyrics reflecting samurai culture during the Edo period:

Sharp like an edge of a samurai sword
The mental blade cut through flesh and bone
Though my mind's at peace, the world out of order
Missing the inner heat, life gets colder
Oh yes, I have to find my path
No less, walk on earth, water, and fire.
The elements compose a magnum opus
My modus operandi is amalgam
Steel packed tight in microchip
On my armor a sign of all-pro
The ultimate reward is honor, not awards
At odds with the times in wards with no lords.
A freelancer
A battle cry of a hawk make a dove fly and a tear dry
Wonder why a lone wolf don't run with a clan
Only trust your instincts and be one with the plan.
Some days, some nights
Some live, some die
In the way of the samurai
Some fight, some bleed
Sun up to sun down
The sons of a battlecry.

Nujabes included the lyric: “My modus operandi is amalgam,” which directly references Watanabe’s juxtaposition of genres throughout his anime. In Samurai Champloo, the “hip-hop aesthetics complement Japanese cultural expression.” Like most hip-hop songs, their main purpose is to address political or social issues, yet in this case, “Battlecry” examines the issue regarding samurai culture.
The few provided examples show the absolute importance music has in anime. Japanese directors and composers work closely together on an anime’s soundtrack, hoping to evoke emotional responses from audiences. The three following chapters examine the connections made in each anime, reinforcing the otaku lifestyle with each series’ respective choice in music. Each series encourages the otaku lifestyle, as viewers contemplate ethical dilemmas, question their sanity and reason for existence, and carelessly journey through space. The musical choices the composers make in their respective anime reflect these emotions, creating memorable moments within storylines.

CHAPTER IV
DEATH NOTE

Introduction

Since its inception as a manga in 2003, Death Note has amassed a cult following, so much so that production company Madhouse developed Death Note into an anime which consisted of thirty-seven episodes and ran from 2006 to 2007. Following its success as an anime, numerous versions of Death Note developed over the next decade, including a video game for the Nintendo DS platform, three live-action films released in Japan, a live-action television drama released in Japan, a musical, and, most recently, a live-action film released by Netflix.
In analyzing the original manga, scholar Susan Napier theorizes that Death Note: has a lot to do with present-day Japan and with its current moral, social, and cultural dilemmas, such as the use of the death penalty, the fear of crime, the problem of bullying, and a pervasive sense of meaningless and alienation that seems to affect increasing numbers of contemporary Japanese.
Napier further notes that death is a prominent feature in Japanese society, not only in popular culture, but also in everyday life. She elaborates that “bizarre and grotesque murder incidents…[occurring] over the past decade” often involve juveniles. It is plausible that the creators of Death Note knew the dangers of teenage violence and sought to provide a warning against committing heinous crimes. Napier states that the “overall effect of the series is…a symphony or tapestry of intentional deaths, woven into a…morally provocative, and…entertaining quest/mystery narrative.
However, Dennis Owen Frolich, scholar of mass communications, believes otherwise. He finds that Death Note serves as a cautionary tale against cults, specifically apocalyptic religion. Apocalypticism, according to Frolich, “is the idea that the end times are intimately connected with God and the judgement of humanity.” Death Note’s main character, Light Yagami, believes he is the only reason crime and wars cease, because judicial systems often deliberate far too long. Inspired by the book of Revelation, Light views himself as god, punishing sinners who do not repent, with death being the “final and absolute punishment.” Light is a narcissistic serial killer who cleverly escapes the law, and viewers must decide whether to applaud Light or condemn him for his crimes against humanity. This choice aligns with the notion that despite Light killing thousands of people, it is acceptable and forgivable because of those peoples’ sins or crimes.
The notion of a “Death Note” has spread since the original manga into popular culture. Adolescents create their own “Death Notes” and write the names of others who wrong them. In the United States, high school students can even purchase a “Death Note” from online retailers such as Amazon, and instead of using these books for cosplay, write down names of fellow classmates, teachers, employers, friends, and even family members. In many of these scenarios, the administration expels or reprimands the student because the “Death Notes” resemble a hit list. Adolescents are highly impressionable, and an incredible number of television series incorporate mass school shootings in their plots. A week after the Columbine massacre in 1999, an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer was delayed because it focused on a student who entered the school with a rifle. In Degrassi, a repeatedly bullied high school student decided to shoot the person who falsely humiliated him in front of the entire school. A similar setting occurring on the CW’s One Tree Hill portrayed an unlikable high school student who created a list of people and brought a gun to school before ultimately ending his own life. In 2008, two sixth-grade students brought a “Death Note” to school, and the local authorities promptly arrested them, despite their claims of it existing as a joke.  A sheriff in Birmingham, Alabama stated that “no matter what age the students are, in light of what has happened recently in…incidents around the country, we consider all threats to be a very serious matter.” Students possessing these “Death Notes” either use them as jokes or use them to vent about bullies and adults, the latter of which largely suffer from depression and self-harm.
Although Death Note remains one of the most popular anime of all time, its overall plot of mass killing and portrayal of a human as a god, combined with its ironic usage of religious music, conveys a complicated message. The varied types of religious music used in the original Death Note heighten Light’s position as a god and creates a conversation about the role of media and cults. Viewers are then left confused as to why sacred music is used to symbolize Light when he himself is filled with sin. In this chapter, I will examine how the musical cues incorporating Catholic musical traditions, including the “Kyrie,” “Low of Solipsism,” “Requiem,” “Teleology of Death,” and “Death Note Theme” create subtexts to the onscreen action and promote the otaku lifestyle by encouraging the Western fascination with serial killers. These newly composed selections feature monophonic Latin chanting and bombastic orchestral writing, which furthers the godlike agenda. To understand these musical cues, I will provide a basic overview of Death Note before discussing the use of religious music throughout the series.

Plot

Death Note focuses on Light Yagami, an exceptionally gifted high school student who is exceptionally bored with everyday life. One day after school, Light observes a black notebook fall from the sky, and he sees an inscription with the words “Death Note” on the book’s cover. Examining the blank-paged notebook, Light discovers a set of rules written on the inside cover:

1. The human whose name is written in this note shall die;
2. This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected;
3. If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen;
4. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack;
5. After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

Light, believing the book to be a prank, decides to test the theory on a hostage situation reported on the news. The news station shows the criminal’s picture and name, so Light simply writes his name in the “Death Note.” After forty seconds, the live newscast switches to footage of the hostages frantically escaping the building and the police team discovering the criminal who has been felled by a heart attack. Light realizes the “Death Note” is real and begins pondering the ethical dilemma of the notebook, ultimately deciding to act as “God” and eradicate the world of heinous criminals.
Meanwhile in a place void of life filled with decrepit wastelands, grim reapers, or shinigami, waste their days playing games or by watching the daily interactions of humans, waiting to write names in their “Death Notes.” In Japanese folklore, the shinigami are grim reapers or spirits of death. Unlike the grim reapers associated with horror films today, they are merely mediators of a person’s journey from life to death. Ryuk, a shinigami bored with existence, realizes that a human should have found the second “Death Note” he dropped. He descends to Earth and introduces himself to Light, explaining the list of rules written in the “Death Note.” He notices that Light filled many pages of the “Death Note” in a matter of days, and with the promise of someday writing Light’s name in his own “Death Note,” Ryuk decides to observe and follow Light around for pure entertainment. After reports of the deaths Light has caused, both discover the nation of Japan divided in two: half live in constant fear of their lives while the other half admire and worship Light, who they christen Kira (killer). Interpol calls genius detective L to investigate the Kira killings, and he forms an anti-Kira task force with Soichiro, a local police officer and Light’s father. With the stage set, the series follows Light and L’s tumultuous game of wits, with Light furthering his “God” agenda and L relentlessly pursuing him.

Title Music

Title songs hold special significance for all anime series, yet rarely do they change midway through the show’s run. In Death Note, the original title song, “The World,” performed by Japanese pop-rock group, Nightmare, switches halfway through the series to “What’s Up, People?!,” performed by Japanese heavy metal group Maximum the Hormone. The change of the title song is significant to the plot and mirrors Light’s moral and emotional development. The first title song, “The World,” consists of the following text:

In the spreading darkness I exchange a pledge for the revolution
I can't let anyone interfere with it.
The fruit of the future told me
Changing dreams into reality
It's an “ending” to everyone’s desires.
In the spreading darkness I exchange a pledge for the revolution
I can't let anyone interfere with it
Someday, I will show you
A world shining with light.

Nightmare’s original song is much longer, but Death Note re-arranges the lyrics to fit the narrative of the title scenes. The song opens as Light awakens, visually prompting viewers to perceive him as a god emerging from his slumber (the narrative of Death Note could not possibly exist without Light realizing his godlike responsibilities to pass judgment on the world). Ryuk appears, and he and Light re-create Michelangelo’s painting The Creation of Adam, with the latter being Adam and the former acting as God. As they extend hands to each other, Ryuk offers Light an apple, symbolizing the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Life from the Garden of Eden. Light walks along the skyline in his town, holding onto the apple. As Nightmare sings, “It’s an ‘ending’ to everyone’s desires,” Light bites into the apple, and the scene pans over the various characters in Death Note, including the Japanese task force, the shinigami, and the people Light will kill. Two FBI members then recreate Michelangelo’s sculpture Pieta. As the woman cradles the man, mirroring Mary holding Christ after his death, we see a foreshadowing of the man’s death in the series. As Nightmare sings, “Someday, I will show you/A world shining,” Misa walks through the rain and stumbles upon Light who extends his hand to her. On the words, “with light,” the scene changes to Light floating in front of a painting of an angel. Light’s arms stretch out, and his feet stack on top of each other, creating a connection between him and the crucifixion of Christ. The text, combined with the visuals, depicts Light as a god before viewers even watch a minute of Death Note.
The title song changes just as Light loses his memory of the “Death Note” in the series and his plan falls into place. Instead of the hopeful-sounding “The World,” “What’s Up, People?!” is quick, sinister, and crude, matching the new title scenes and the back half of the series. “What’s Up, People?!” also uses a harsher vocal timbre, as Maximum the Hormone sings:

You're handy, handy, hurrah! Handy, handy, hurrah!
Handy, handy, hurrah! You human
Wanna get them mad? Get them mad? Get them mad? People
WHAT’S UP, filled with uneasiness that crime can never vanish, ever
WHAT’S UP, filled with uneasiness (Who is down in the trap of resentment?)
WHAT’S UP, filled with uneasiness that crime can never vanish, ever
WHAT’S UP, filled with uneasiness
HEY HEY! Human paean, does love escaping make humans nervous?
WHAT’S UP PEOPLE?! 

Conclusion

After its conclusion as an anime in 2007, many film companies in Japan created liveaction adaptions of Death Note. Following suit in 2017, Netflix partnered with Adam Wingard, director of horror films such as You’re Next, to create an American live-action adaptation of Death Note. The premise of the story remained the same, yet in the American adaptation, Light Turner focuses more on vengeance than on fulfilling a self-indulged “God” complex. Because of Wingard’s experience in indie-horror films, the music in the American adaptation of Death Note combines indie music, 80’s music, and covers of well-known songs, but ignores the religious music that enriched the anime, and therefore omits the religious subtext.
The opening title music in Wingard’s film is the song “Reckless” by 1980s rock band Australian Crawl. The chorus, “So, throw down your gun/Don't be so reckless,” potentially conveys the recklessness of Light and Mia as they kill hundreds of people. The opening sequence of the film shows Light and Mia at high school, with the former helping a student cheat on his homework. Australian Crawl’s song lessens the horror aspect of the film and promotes it as a tragic teen romance, an aspect that Ohba’s original story did not contain. In the anime, Light manipulates Misa, promising her romance and a life together, yet uses her to further his own agenda. Light is also extremely confident in himself and his plans, unlike Wingard’s Light who second guesses himself and relies on Mia to murder people mercilessly. Both title songs in the anime reflect Light’s confidence and show the dichotomy of questions presented to viewers: do they condemn Light for his actions or cheer him on? Wingard’s film heightens the teen romance aspect with his choice of music, while the anime skillfully uses religious music to further Light’s role as god.
Catholicism in Japan accounts for less than one percent of the population, the result of 400-year-long persecution. People in Japan practiced Catholicism in secret, living in fear of execution. During the Meiji Restoration, Catholic missionaries returned to Japan when the ports re-opened, but Catholicism failed to establish itself, as many Catholics remained in hiding. Because of Shintoism’s long history, the Japanese mainly disregard Catholicism or any other monotheistic religion. Christianity highlights following the Bible and God’s teachings, which will grant salvation and provide many blessings. Shintoism, however, does not follow the teachings of any God, but instead presents a common understanding of a world filled with spirits.
Death Note combines Shinto beliefs with Catholic music. Shintoism refutes evil kami, and the destruction Light creates, with subtle guidance from Ryuk, could result only from something unknown, such as Catholic music. Ryuk’s presence alone can trigger sin in anyone, and luckily, only Light sees the “Death Note” falling from the sky. As aforementioned in the introduction, teenagers across the globe worship Light and Death Note, while adults fear its “teachings” and underlying messages. The use of Catholic music, and its corresponding relationship to Western culture, could potentially cause the Japanese people to fear the ideas of monotheistic religion showing the destruction and horror one god can create.
The music in Death Note encourages viewers to support Light’s manipulative and sadistic intentions. Furthermore, because of Netflix originals such as Making a Murderer and podcasts including “My Favorite Murder,” Western audiences crave stories about serial killers, not for the horrible acts men and women committed, but for learning their origin stories. Death Note completely fits this cult fascination with serial killers, with the only difference here being that audiences often support Light’s scheme. This creepy, unusual obsession with serial killers lures viewers into the otaku lifestyle and provides a new medium to indulge in these horrifying tales.

CHAPTER V
NEON GENESIS EVANGELION

Introduction 

Neon Genesis Evangelion, regarded as one of the most influential anime from the 1990s, redefined the mecha genre and the anime art form. Animator Anno Hideaki, who gained prominence in the 1980s for his work on the ending scenes to Hayao Miyazaki’s film Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, unfortunately suffered from clinical depression, a condition that manifested in his later works. Hideaki disapproved of the otaku lifestyle of the Japanese regarding anime and manga because of its obsessive nature. This critique, along with his depression, resulted in Evangelion: a series filled with “simple but dark graphics and photo montages, disturbing voiceovers, and disorienting music.” Released in 1997, Evangelion enraptured young audiences because of its incorporation of J-pop and Western classical music in the mecha canon, rivaling Sunrise’s Mobile Suit Gundam Wing (1979-1980). The final two episodes of the series disappointed fans, and their persistent death threats and letters of disappointment caused Hideaki and Gainax to re-imagine the ending of Evangelion, the resulting in two films: Death and Rebirth and The End of Evangelion.
Death combined the first twenty-four episodes of Evangelion into a seventy-minute long movie. To create a feature film out of eleven hours of material, Death comprises four sections, each focusing on one of the main characters: Shinji, Asuka, Rei, and Kaworu. Each section depicts its character playing a string instrument, which ultimately allowed Hideaki to conclude Death with a string quartet. Hideaki spliced and re-told events from the first twenty-four episodes of the series to show the psychological and emotional turmoil each character faces. Rebirth consists of twenty-seven minutes of new animation and also serves as the first part of The End of Evangelion.
Still receiving pressure from fans, Hideaki and Gainax worked on the Rebuild of Evangelion: four feature films retelling the original story with a new ending. The project began with Evangelion 1.0: You are (Not) Alone (2007), and the films Evangelion 2.0: You Can (Not) Advance and Evangelion 3.0: You Can (Not) Redo followed shortly after in 2009 and 2012, respectively. The fourth and final film in the series Evangelion 3.0 + 1.0 is still in production with an unknown release date. Because of the length and magnitude of the Evangelion saga, I will focus on the first two films - Death and Rebirth and The End of Evangelion - and their use of Western classical music and influence from popular music. The musical choices made in Evangelion effectively shows the emotional and mental turmoil characters face throughout the series.

Plot

As with Death Note, Evangelion is wholly apocalyptic, set in 2015 after a catastrophic event known as the Second Impact annihilated most of the world. Shinji Ikari is a teenage boy who receives an invitation from his estranged father, Gendo, who is the commander of an organization called NERV, to live with him. Immediately after his arrival, Misato Katsuragi, a NERV employee, escorts Shinji into an Evangelion Unit (EVA), a mechanized robot created by NERV to fight the Angels. The Angels are massive lifeforms who descend to Earth, hoping to instigate the Third Impact: an apocalypse to rid the world of single human existence and to instead merge all lifeforms together. Each of the seventeen Angels manifests itself in a different shape and are “said to be 99.89 percent compatible with human DNA,” and NERV created the EVAs to destroy the Angels. Unlike other heroic mecha series, such as Mobile Suit Gundam, Shinji is a less than ideal protagonist. Only after receiving death threats from his father does Shinji reluctantly fight in the EVA and defeat an Angel. Two additional teenagers, Rei Ayanami and Asuka Langley, also pilot EVAs, and NERV deems them, along with Shinji, “children,” descendants of Lilith, the second Angel and creator of Lilin, or humans. Throughout the series, Shinji, Rei, and Asuka fight the Angels in the hopes of saving humanity.

Title Music

Like many other anime, the theme song to Evangelion contains influence from J-pop. However, Hideaki initially wanted to use an excerpt from Alexander Borodin’s Polovetsian Dances because he felt it matched the mature and complex ideas in the anime. Because Evangelion broadcast during daytime television for children, the network thought a mecha anime with Western classical music would confuse teenage audiences. TV Tokyo requested an upbeat song, and Toshmichi Ōtsuki composed Zankoku na Tenshi no These or “Cruel Angel’s Thesis.” The original version of the song included a male chorus, yet Hideaki requested a female voice to “emphasize maternal affection,” as a major theme in the series is a desire to reunite with one’s mother.
The montage of scenes in the opening title sequence are mild, and instead splice together the different characters throughout Evangelion. A single disturbing image exists in the title sequence: a quick shot of Shinji’s EVA unit’s hand covered in blood. Despite this single image, the title sequence, accompanied by “Cruel Angel’s Thesis,” promises an action-packed mecha. The music is upbeat, based in a major tonality and a standard four-piece rock band ensemble with a small brass band. As the music gains traction, images flicker on the screen, matching the rhythmic hits of “Cruel Angel’s Thesis.” Furthermore, the lyrics to “Cruel Angel’s Thesis” are hopeful:

Young boy, like a cruel angel’s thesis,
Live up to be a legend!

Even though clear blue winds
Beat on the door of my heart,
You just smile, looking straight at me
Too involved in yearning for
Something to hold on
The innocent eyes still know nothing of fate yet.

But someday you will notice
On those shoulders of yours
There are strong wings
To guide you to the far future.

A cruel angel’s thesis
Will someday fly high from the window
If memories are betrayed by
The overflowing, burning emotions.
Holding the sky in your arms,
Young boy, shine like a legend.

The lyrics tell Shinji that he has the power to change the world, therefore he should depend less on others. The pair of “strong wings” to guide him through life represent the EVA unit Shinji pilots, which contains his mother’s soul, the result of an unfortunate scientific experiment. The fate of the world and human existence rests solely on Shinji. During one of the final scenes of The End of Evangelion, Shinji changes his mind and does not want to fade from existence, believing that pain and joy are both important in life. Because of his rejection of the Third Impact, Shinji fades back into existence with Asuka lying beside him. Shinji fears being alone in the world, and despite his complicated relationship with Asuka, he craves her companionship and strangles her, hoping to “revive” her and have “something to hold [onto].” He fears Asuka’s rejection but ultimately decides fear and heartache are necessary in life.
It could be said that Lilith, or his mother, sings to Shinji. Lilith inhabited Earth and created Lilin to populate the land, and because she created Shinji, she wishes for him to succeed and to accept mankind’s flaws. Shinji hardly remembers his mother, Yui, and despite everything his father puts him through, he still craves Gendo’s affection and approval. After years of ostracizing Shinji, Gendo invites him to live with him, yet Shinji realizes that his father merely wants to use him as an EVA pilot. Asuka and other classmates cannot fathom why Shinji receives preferential treatment. Like Asuka, Shinji lacks confidence not in his talent, but in his ability to please others. 

Western Classical Music
The String Quartet

Because Hideaki re-worked twenty-four episodes into a feature film, he needed a link to weave the main characters’ stories together. His initial desire to have a nationalistic Russian classical composition at the forefront of Evangelion culminated in a soundtrack containing Western classical music. Furthermore, the Western classical music chosen for Evangelion is firmly at the center of the Western canon. Regarded as the “father” of the string quartet, Franz Joseph Haydn established the four-piece string ensemble because string instruments are often the “most representative of the human voice, with their singing, expressive nature - as the quartet combination encompasses the four standard ranges of the human voice used in choral writing: sorprano, alto, tenor, and bass.” As previously mentioned, each of the characters plays a tune before the start of their string quartet rehearsal, signifying the coming of a performance that will bring the destruction of the world. The use of each character’s respective choice of instrument “elliptically [comments] on the characters’ interrelations and on their functions within a group.”
After showing a brief summary of the events to occur in Death, Shinji walks into an auditorium, and text appears, stating he is “cello, fourth string.” As the credits roll, Shinji plays Johann Sebastian Bach’s Suiten für Violoncello solo Nr. 1, G-dur, BWV. 1007, I. Vorspier until the first launch sequence of his EVA. The cello’s timbre is dark and lush and often gets compared to a human voice. In fact, Shinji misses his mother and plays the cello as an attempt to connect with her. Scenes of Shinji’s first outing in an EVA appear, and the “story” shifts to Misato. Shinji lives with her, and it is often thought that Misato replaces his mother. More of Shinji’s personality arrives after Misato’s backstory, showing the former acknowledging his misgivings. Shinji runs away, only to return to NERV and Misato, apologizing and saying that he will unwillingly pilot the EVA, prompting Misato to tell him he can leave and that no one is forcing him to be there. The cello returns now, with Shinji playing the opening solo in the first movement to Antonín Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in B Minor, op. 104. Dvořák’s concerto contains lush melodic and harmonic lines and features the technical prowess of the cello. By adding in Dvořák’s masterpiece, viewers see that Shinji’s love for the cello is the only aspect of his life he can control. The reconstruction of Shinji’s storyline in Death depicts him as the calmest character, rivaling the distraught psyches of Asuka and Rei.
Asuka then enters the auditorium, greets Shinji and tells him that cellos are easy because they only have to play arpeggios, prompting the text: “violin, second string” and Bach’s Partita III für Violino Solo, E-dur, BWV. 1006, III. Gavotte in Rondo. Most are familiar with the first movement, Prelude, with the third movement being the second most popular of the suite. Throughout the course of the series, Asuka struggles with her independence and her competitiveness with others. She constantly tries to impress Shinji with her abilities, and many describe her as “self-absorbed, egotistical, and twisted.” In the first scene of her section, Asuka lies in a bathtub after slicing her wrists, stating that she “[cannot] be the second child anymore,” because she cannot fathom the idea of being second to anyone, as in the string quartet. Asuka is “constitutionally hell-bent on asserting her superior worth…[seeing] music as just another means of flaunting her skills.” By playing a spirited, high-energy piece, Asuka shows her determination to outshine others - the first violin or other children - yet also shows the psychological toll she endures. Asuka’s section depicts her declining pride, as she continuously falls second to Shinji and Rei.
Asuka’s section ends on a conversation between her and Rei about the former’s failure as an EVA pilot, and the scene switches to Rei walking into the auditorium for quartet rehearsal. She is “viola, third string,” and unlike her two teammates, Rei simply plays a tuning note, and the scene quickly shifts to her story. By only playing a tuning note, Rei asserts herself as “habitually compliant,” ready to accomplish the task set before her. The viola is often underrated and overlooked in classical music, correlating to Rei’s treatment in the series. It is revealed that Rei too is a clone of Shinji’s mother, Yui. Gendo combined Yui’s DNA with Lilith, and multiple clones of Rei exist in NERV, all of which are empty vessels should Rei fail during a mission. Rei questions her memories and thoughts, wondering if they are hers or another Rei’s, and she rejects Gendo’s dream of the Human Instrumentality Project, instead deciding to reunite with Lilith and start the Third Impact. In an attempt to save Shinji’s life from an Angel attack, Rei sacrifices herself, blowing up the EVA she pilots. She wakes up in a hospital as Shinji visits her, and she states she does not remember anything and must be the “third one,” or third clone. Rei emotionally detaches herself from Shinji and Asuka, and her playing the viola shows that she is useful when necessary, but does not need to exist.
Kaworu, the final member of the string quartet and the fifth child, arrives at the auditorium. He will be “violin, first string,” and after a quick tuning note, he asks, “Shall we begin?” Shinji starts playing Pachelbel’s Kanon, D-dur. Pachelbel’s polyphonic canon shows how intertwined the four children are. The others join in, and a montage of the high school occurs. The ensemble ends after zeroing in on classmate Toji Suzuhara. Toji and Shinji fight during the beginning of the series, but they soon become friends and confide in each other. Though Toji is not a member of the string quartet, he is the fourth child and pilots EVA Unit-03. Unfortunately, the thirteenth Angel infects Toji’s EVA, taking over its control system, prompting NERV to order Shinji to eliminate the EVA. Shinji, though unaware of Toji residing inside the EVA, refuses to fight, as EVA Unit-03 exists as a “sibling” to his unit. Gendo overrides Shinji’s EVA unit, causing it to go into berserk mode and annihilate Toji’s EVA. Filled with grief over possibly killing Toji and losing his only friend, Shinji visits a nearby crater. Kaworu emerges and presents himself as a true friend to Shinji. Even though Kaworu was an Angel in disguise, he guided Shinji and left a lasting impression on him, a prominent feature of a first violinist. Because of Kawuro’s guidance, Shinji gains the confidence to save the human race, convincing himself that life has meaning and people can change for the better.  

Conclusion

Evangelion has maintained a lasting effect on anime fans across the globe over the past two decades. Many watch the series out of devotion to the mecha genre, while others watch it for its powerful exploration of psychological and emotional issues it deals with. Hideaki’s decision to splice the original twenty-four episodes into seventy minutes of material was risky and created continuity issues in the overarching plot, but it allowed viewers to understand Evangelion on a much deeper level, with the string quartet section offering insight into the characters’ minds. Most anime broadcasted throughout the 1990s contained little to no classical music and Evangelion references the two most prominent composers in the Western world as a signal of its artistic aims.
The music of Bach and Beethoven, considered foundational to the Western canon, continues to be performed throughout the world, often with their music serving as a person’s introduction to classical music. Viewers of Evangelion may not necessarily enjoy listening to classical music, but know of Bach and Beethoven. Hideaki desired to create a memorable series, one that pushed the boundaries of the traditional mecha genre with its use of classical music. Fans of Evangelion may not be able to fully explain the meaning behind the series, but they can remember and identify Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” and Bach’s Air, which remain culturally significant in popular culture.
The popularity of Astro Boy and Mobile Suit Gundam Wing introduced audiences to the mecha genre, yet Evangelion transcended this genre entirely. By using classical music, especially that of Bach and Beethoven, Hideaki heightened and transformed the mecha genre from people heroically saving the world to people who struggle with their innermost desires. Upon firstwatch, viewers may be unable to describe the overall plot of Evangelion but they enjoy seeing giant mechanized robots fighting. This fascination also stems from the Japanese-American Transformers franchise which features seemingly ordinary cars transforming into giant robots. Despite its complicated and psychological undertones, Evangelion invites viewers into the otaku lifestyle and shows them that a series can simply be more than giant fighting robots.

CHAPTER VI
COWBOY BEBOP

Introduction

Twenty years after its initial broadcast, Shinichirō Watanabe’s Cowboy Bebop and its music by Yoko Kanno remains one of the most influential anime of all time, one that has influenced animators, composers, and musicians. Watanabe believes music in media should support the narrative and this belief is evident not only in Cowboy Bebop, but also in other works such Samurai Champloo, which features hip-hop and rap accompanying samurais living in the Edo period, effectively showing the “trappings of modern western culture.” Watanabe has called himself and his staff “bebop musicians” because “[they] didn’t want to make anime in a pattern that was already set.” Cowboy Bebop combines tropes from science-fiction and westerns: a futuristic space world filled with spaceships and life on other planets and bounty hunters. Because of Watanabe’s desire to create a new genre unlike other science-fiction western anime, “Cowboy Bebop freely samples from martial arts movies, crime thrillers, cyberpunk novels, film noir,” and classic country western films rooted in science-fiction. Because these genres contain elements of wandering, Kanno’s decision to score Cowboy Bebop primarily with bebop, a genre filled with wandering through different harmonies, textures, and timbres, is justifiably sound.
Cowboy Bebop utilizes different genres of jazz throughout the series, calls episodes “sessions,” and borrows many album or song titles, such as Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody,” for the titles of those sessions. Watanabe’s choice to call them sessions further “[indicates] their affinities with improvisatory jazz performances.” Throughout Cowboy Bebop, the characters revisit their past memories, with Spike’s history being the most prominent, providing a leitmotif for the concept of memory. The series also parodies well-known films and their respective music, yet mocks them to offer comedic relief before serious developments in the storyline. Session 11 “Toys in the Attic,” mimics Ridley Scott’s 1979 film Alien, yet combines the sciencefiction and horror genre with comedy. The incorporation of Western country music also supports the narrative of Cowboy Bebop, showing the dichotomy of restless, space-bound bounty hunters. In this chapter, I will examine country western music, music coded to nostalgia and tranquility, music accompanying Faye, and the corresponding film and musical parody existing in “Toys in the Attic.”

Plot

Cowboy Bebop follows bounty hunters Spike and Jet as they travel around space in their ship “Bebop.” Along the way, they encounter and befriend many who travel through space, including Ein, a corgi; Faye Valentine, a woman with a gambling problem and troubled past; and Edward, a young child who excels in internet hacking. Unlike Death Note and Neon Genesis Evangelion, Cowboy Bebop contains no “true” plot; instead, it focuses on Spike wandering from story to story, much like traditional cowboys who never settle in one place for long. Only two storylines hold significance in Cowboy Bebop: the first revolves around Spike’s search for his lover Julia and his attempt to outrun Vicious, a gang member of the Red Dragon Syndicate. Spike’s story encompasses the mid-season finale - Sessions 14 and 15 - and the finale - Sessions 25 and 26. The second storyline focuses on Faye and her quest to discover her repressed memories, which resulted from being frozen after a tragic accident. Her story is told through many sessions towards the back half of the series. Both storylines serve to highlight the general concept of memory, as it is a common theme in Faye and Spike’s backgrounds. Though Cowboy Bebop contains no “true” plot, each session contains music that furthers its internal storyline and characteristically develops “Bebop’s” crew.

Title

Music The lack of plot in Cowboy Bebop correlates with its erratic theme song. Kanno’s “Tank!” is arguably one of the most memorable anime theme songs of all time, situating itself as a favorite among anime fans and a standard for jazz bands across the country. Kanno scored “Tank!” for a 1930s swing band, including acoustic guitar, double bass, bongo, and shaker. Kanno and her band The Seatbelts recorded “Tank!” originally as background music, but Watanabe decided to use it as the title song because of its “[vigorous]…spirit of brass bands,” and because “Tank’s!” bombastic nature presents Cowboy Bebop as a hip, action-packed series. Cowboy Bebop uses an abridged version for the title sequence. “Tank!” combines elements of bebop and pop culture, specifically those of the noir film genre.
  “Tank!” begins with the ensemble rapidly playing a series of notes, resolving into a drum fill and walking bass line. A male voice then intones:

I think it’s time we blow this scene.
Get everybody and the stuff together.
Okay: 3, 2, 1, let’s jam!

after which, the winds return with rhythmic phrases, interjecting every so often with series of rapid notes. As with bebop musician Charlie Parker’s “Anthropology,” “Tank!” is highly erratic, with instruments playing in extreme registers and syncopated phrases occurring every few measures. As images of Spike, “Bebop,” and others flood the screen, lines of text shift through these scenes. The title sequence splices the text, but reconstructed it reads:
Once upon a time, in New York City in 1941...at this club open to all comers to play, night after night, at a club named “Minston’s Play House” in Harlem, they play jazz sessions competing with each other. Young jazz men with a new sense are gathering. At last they created a new genre itself. They are sick and tired of the conventional fixed style jazz. They’re eager to play jazz more freely as they wish. Then...in 2071 in the universe. The bounty hunters who are gathering in spaceship “BEBOP” will play freely without fear of risky things. They must create new dreams and films by breaking traditional styles. The work which becomes a new genre itself will be called…COWBOY BEBOP.
This text, combined with the opening male narration, demonstrates the correlations between bebop musicians and the “Bebop” crew, helping viewers recognize Watanabe’s goal of the series: to create a new genre outside standardized anime. The storyline of Cowboy Bebop precisely matches the opening narration. Spike, Jet and Faye create their own destiny and path in the series, much like bebop musicians in the 1940s. Though the entirety of “Tank!” does not play in Cowboy Bebop, an alto saxophone solo occurs while the rest of the ensemble maintains the driving rhythmic material. This solo is highly improvisatory, rapidly progressing through harmonies, much like the solos in Parker’s “Yardbird Suite.” Watanabe wanted Cowboy Bebop and its characters to be independent and “improvisatory,” and he achieves this goal by associating Spike, Jet, and Faye with bebop musicians.
Cowboy Bebop’s title sequence is reminiscent of the opening sequence to the 1962 James Bond film Dr. No, which consists of three parts. At the beginning of Dr. No, the screen takes the shape of a gun barrel, and, after the initial hits of the theme song and main melody, the barrel’s opening morphs into a circle, which then transforms into the words “Dr. No.” These words then erratically shift around the screen, matching the theme song’s rhythmic trumpet hits. The words resolve back into the original circle, and associated shapes move around the screen as the title credits continue. The theme song ends abruptly, just as the circles consume the screen entirely. At this point, women in various colored silhouettes dance to various drums, their movements comprising the second part. The final part shows three older men walking with canes as the song “Kingston Calypso (Three Blind Mice)” accompanies them. The inclusion of this Jamaican ska number provides information about the film’s setting, creating a standard for future Bond films.
Likewise, Cowboy Bebop’s title sequence consists of multiple sections which splice together to create a visual spectacle. Like Dr. No, the opening credits to Cowboy Bebop are also monochromatic, often using similar shades of the same color with the characters and text remaining in black or white. After the initial brass hits accompany flashing words, the groove settles down into the double bass, as lines shift and move around the screen. Though the lines fade away to create blocks of images, they divide the blocks into many different rectangles or squares. After introducing the main melody, the brass hits return, and shooting pistols accompany each of these hits, showcasing the guns’ barrels at the end of the phrase. Near the end of the song, Jet holds a gun, showing the audience the gun’s barrel again, and colored rectangles and squares flood the screen, accompanying silhouettes of, presumably, Spike and Faye dancing. Elements of parts one and two from Dr. No’s sequence are evident here, especially with Faye’s “Bond-girl” inspired dancing. Though we do not see the full Dr. No gun barrel sequence in Cowboy Bebop, the mere presence of the gun triggers associations with action-packed films. With Dr. No, viewers look through the barrel of the gun at Bond, and they assume the role of the assassin or antagonist of the film. Bond shoots the assassin, and the screen and gun barrel fill with red, presumably killing the assassin and informing viewers that Bond will be victorious in his missions. Spike is the protagonist of Cowboy Bebop, yet he does not hold a gun at any point during the title sequence. Though the majority of the characters remain as silhouettes during the title sequence, their faces are sketched in periodically. Spike, however, is the only character who shows his full face during the opening. A hand extends a lighter to Spike, and the flame illuminates his face until his cigarette is lit. Throughout Cowboy Bebop, characters smoke to cope with troubling news, or in one instance, to enjoy it before death. These facts potentially foreshadow Spike’s fate in the series, contrasting the implied victory of Bond in Dr. No. Just as “Kingston Calypso (Three Blind Mice) informs the audience of Bond’s nemeses and the plot of Dr. No, “Tank!” enlightens viewers to the premise of Cowboy Bebop, promising an erratic, fastspaced story. 

Examining the Soundtrack
Country Western Aesthetic

Cowboy Bebop centers on wandering space bounty hunters, making Kanno’s choice to integrate country western music and tropes throughout the series valid. While Spike and company lazily wait in “Bebop” for new bounties, the tv show Big Shot occasionally interrupts their daily activities. Big Shot features a man and a woman dressed in “traditional” cowboy garb, broadcasting new bounties throughout the galaxy. Each episode of Big Shot opens with a gun shooting the screen, which then displays the show’s title accompanied by “American Money.” The song begins with a bugle call and a three-piece ensemble comprising banjo, tuba, and drum set play a rapid, simple tune reminiscent of music played in country western saloons. “American Money” incorporates sound effects characteristic to cowboys and bounties: gunfire and casino slot machines. “American Money” and Big Shot parody the country western aesthetic, focusing on the stereotypes generally associated with cowboys.
Session 22 “Cowboy Funk” borrows tropes - albeit in a comical manner—from spaghetti westerns produced in the 1960s to 1970s. Throughout “Cowboy Funk,” Spike chases after a bounty, only to be constantly deterred by Andy von de Oniyate, a Japanese man who dresses and acts like a cowboy, riding around on his horse, Onyx, in search of bounties. Unlike others in the universe, Andy uses a barrel pistol and lasso, customary cowboy gear. “Go Go Cactus Man” is Andy’s theme song, and it appears only in “Cowboy Funk.” The song begins with whistling, reminiscent of old country folk tunes, adds in a “boing” sound, then returns to a whistling duet of the main melody. Kanno slowly builds in more “country” instrumentation, adding in a drum set - played with brushes - and then guitar. She also adds in gunshot sounds and horse neighs, resembling the country western aesthetic. At this point, the whistling ceases, and an electric guitar takes over the melody. The electric guitar symbolizes the chaos surrounding Andy; even though cowboys are often level-headed and contemplate their actions, Andy - much like Spike - jumps into situations with little to no thought or preparation, making the choice to score “Go Go Cactus Man” with an electric guitar, rather than an acoustic guitar, justifiable.

Conclusion

In April 2018, Cowboy Bebop celebrated twenty years since it first aired, prompting fans and critics to publish articles online via personal blogs and magazines in professional print publications. Other science-fiction anime emerged over the last two decades, so why the persistent obsession with Cowboy Bebop?  The bombastic nature of Cowboy Bebop, filled with almost sixty songs, provides a wide array of cinematic and musical genres, attracting and building different fanbases. Cowboy Bebop incorporates all genres of popular music in Japan, further appealing to the masses.  “Tank!” remains a favorite among many, remaining within the top five on many websites’ “Best Anime Theme Songs of All Time” list. People still dress up as Faye at anime conventions, proving that her character possesses more depth than merely existing as a sex symbol. Faye tempts people into the otaku lifestyle as her storyline provides viewers closure, showing that the demons of your past can remain there. Faye’s struggle with her existence ceases once she realizes that “Bebop” is her home.
Cowboy Bebop truly transcends the anime standard, especially considering the relationship between “film” and music. Unlike many other cartoons or television shows, Watanabe consulted with Kanno on the music, with the latter often contributing music prior to receiving footage. In an interview with Dot and Line, American musician Steve Conte recalls his reaction to a conversation with Yoko Kanno:
[Yoko said], ‘There’s this new series that they’re making, called Cowboy Bebop, and what they’re gonna do is they’re gonna do the animation to our music,’ instead of the other way around, like a lot of anime or cartoons or movies in general. They make the film and then they get a composer later to look at the film and score the film to what’s already been made, the visuals that are already there. But this was gonna be done the opposite way. They’re gonna be inspired by the way the music sounded to create the visuals.
Watanabe’s decision to write and animate the series around the music culminated in a rewarding experience for viewers, as this had not been practiced in other anime. Each of Kanno’s soundtracks to the series stand alone, and the jazz tunes - especially - have a profound impact on the jazz canon, eliminating the aspect of “Japanese jazz.” In 1994, the Israeli Philharmonic, under the direction of Anthony Inglis, performed Kanno’s score to Macross Plus, a mecha and military science fiction anime also directed by Watanabe. Recalling his experience, Inglis states:
[Macross Plus] made a change from usual “squeaky gate” music that I have had to conduct, which is music written by a composer for a select group of his friends. Music like that annoys me, because I want the listeners to enjoy the music and go through motions while listening to it. Which is where [the music to Macross Plus]…where you have challenging rhythms and harmonies, is exciting and it plays on your emotions. I would love to conduct more music like this…[The score to Macross Plus] was also apparently the first time [Kanno] had ever orchestrated for an orchestra. Which if it is true, I have no reason to doubt it, she is a genius.
The Western canon deems certain composers geniuses - namely Beethoven - yet rarely are any popular musicians given the same moniker. The immense variety Kanno incorporates into these soundtracks - ranging from pop to country western, electronic music to bebop - shows the incredible impact and extent of Cowboy Bebop and perhaps should earn her the same sobriquet. 

CHAPTER VII
CONCLUSION

Despite some Westerners believing that enjoying and obsessing over anime deems one a “weirdo,” the otaku lifestyle is no different than the fascinations spread throughout the U.S. People congregate at restaurants, wear brightly colored, oversized shirts, and scream at televisions showing men tackling one another. Others spend large amounts of money to stand in an arena for hours and find themselves openly weeping as they see their idol. And, some merely scroll mindlessly on their phones, double-tapping as quickly as their thumbs can manage. While otaku has attached itself to manga and anime, Westerners have their own obsessions and mediums, giving them their own “otaku” lifestyle. Just as it is difficult for some Americans to imagine a life without football, it is difficult for others to imagine not having anime. This quirky genre introduced me to a new lifestyle and obsession but just as importantly, music. The music from the series I have watched - and continue to watch - remain with me and serve as listening material throughout everyday life.
To this day, the music from Death Note, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Cowboy Bebop are incredibly significant in our understanding of the anime and their continued relevance to otaku. Countless fan websites debate Light’s fate at the end of Death Note: did he truly deserve death if he simply wished to create a crimeless world? The use of Western Catholic music establishing Light as a god encourages audiences to cheer for an anti-protagonist’s downfall. Neon Genesis Evangelion prompts viewers to reflect on their inner selves: am I being all that I can be and am I worth it? By anempathetically combining glorious music by Bach and Beethoven with chaotic and psychotic scenes, viewers contemplate existence and their own ideas regarding humanity and perseverance. The wide array of music in Cowboy Bebop engages audiences, and leaves them wondering: what kind of show am I watching? The soundtracks, filled with fast-paced jazz numbers, heavy metal songs, and soothing waltzes, shows viewers that even though they do not live in a fantasy world with spaceships, life contains many different opportunities, just as the storyline and music of Cowboy Bebop.
The anime canon is substantial, with Death Note, Neon Genesis Evangelion, and Cowboy Bebop firmly holding their places. These series ended between twelve and twenty years ago, so why examine these “archaic” shows? Renowned American musicologist Charles Seeger offered principles to follow regarding his field, stating that musicologists “can establish the study of music in a position of give and take with the great studies of our day.” Though presented almost a century ago, his statement holds true with this document. The field of anime music can flourish if and only if we establish seminal works, just as scholars Phillip Brett and Susan McClary pioneered the field of gay musicology by studying Benjamin Britten and Madonna. Anime fanatics obsess over the anime explored here, writing fan-fiction, cosplaying as specific characters for conventions, and contributing to forums with the sole purpose of engaging in meaningful conversation. Death Note encourages the bizarre fascination with serial killers and gives audiences a glimpse of the anime horror genre. Neon Genesis Evangelion re-defines the mecha genre, showing that characters struggle with more than training with their robot. The vast variety of storylines and music in Cowboy Bebop offers tales and tunes for any individual, all in the great open universe. Besides Rose Bridges’s scholarly contributions of Cowboy Bebop, no musicologist focuses on anime studies, leaving the field open to either flourish or wane.
Throughout this document, I offered other anime ripe for a similar treatment. Samurai Champloo is rich with connections between African American and Japanese samurai culture, which explains why the resources in the field do discuss the music. The entirety of the Studio Ghibli catalog contains lush, melodic orchestral writing. There also exists an incredible amount of musical anime, with each incorporating a different style of music. Much like the characteristic free-form spirit of jazz that Cowboy Bebop adopts in calling its episodes “sessions,” Nodame Cantabile labels its episodes as “lessons,” as each lesson employs a significant Western classical composition. Beethoven, Mozart, Ravel, and Bach are but a few of the composers who make an appearance, giving audiences a glimpse of the Western classical music canon.
Many universities offer film music courses and spend a considerable amount of time examining the history of film music. Fortunately, the Department of Music at Stanford University currently offers a course titled “Decoding Anime,” which “explores the eponymous Japanese animation style through a multimedia analytical framework focused on four major components: narrative, music, images and Japanese aesthetics.” Professor Francois Rose believes all components combine together to create an enriching experience for anime viewers. By dedicating an entire semester to anime studies, Stanford is helping define the canon and shows the growing importance of studying anime music.
With the exception of Stanford, the other many universities should not be faulted for their exclusion of anime from the film music canon. The literature simply does not exist. The research does not exist. A limited amount of time exists in academia, preventing professors from conducting the research and restructuring syllabi to support this trend. However, the resources are there. Because of anime essentially existing as its own genre of film, the countless film music books provide excellent source material to conduct research. Japan does not treat these as cartoons, therefore neither should we, in the Western world. It is with great hope that others indulge in the obsessive otaku lifestyle, look for these connections, and initiate meaningful conversations about these timeless anime. There is so much more to be said about the abundance of outstanding anime music, and this document barely shows a fraction of what exists.