Japan's Hardcore Punk Scene: A Look Back at Its Roots
In the late 1980s, a few years after punk's initial shock-and-awe, the genre mutated into hardcore, a leaner, meaner, and fiercely independent hybrid. Today, 45 years later, hardcore is enjoying a moment in the mainstream, thanks to bands like Turnstile, Speed, and Knocked Loose. But for those longing for the original underdog spirit, Japan's early hardcore scene offers a unique perspective.
Tokyo was home to a plethora of foundational acts, including GISM, Gauze, the Comes, and the Execute, as well as later bands like Death Side, Bastard, and Tetsu Arrey. These bands played some of the most furious and exciting punk of the late 1980s and early 1990s. However, being a punk in Japan could be isolating.
"Our basic stance was to rebel against society and 'common sense,'" says Ishiya, frontman of Death Side. "In Japan, the pressure to conform is extremely strong, and we were subjected to discriminatory treatment just for looking different. On trains, people avoided us, and when we looked for work, we were screened out. We were treated like enemies of society."
One of the earliest bands on the scene was Lip Cream, whose bassist, Minoru Ogawa, discovered western hardcore originators like Discharge, Chaos UK, Dead Kennedys, and Disorder. "I was always looking for fast rhythms," he says. Lip Cream eventually released four albums containing some of the era's most scintillatingly out-of-control thrash.
Another band, the Nurse, was one of the world's first all-female hardcore bands. Singer Neko, a fan of GBH and Discharge, recruited members through a Japanese magazine. "My family was against me playing punk music," she says. "They were surprised when I would leave the house wearing heavy, eccentric makeup and strange fashion."
Death Side released two landmark albums between 1987 and 1994, including a split release with Ishiya's idols, Chaos UK. "It was the feeling of: 'I want to do something myself. A punk band was something anyone could do,'" says Ishiya. "I got an instrument cheaply and practiced, couldn't manage it, and decided to be the vocalist. Hardcore punk was perfect for expressing the hopeless anger of my teenage years."
Ishiya offers various theories for the violence prevalent in the scene, ranging from a traditional samurai worldview to post-World War II trauma. "Basically, people who couldn't fit into this thing called society were all labeled delinquents," he says. "When those kinds of people gather together, I think violence naturally breaks out."
This inclination was magnified by bands like GISM, whose frontman, Sakevi, had a history of attacking journalists and wielding a flamethrower on stage. "Because of GISM's violent performances, there was a sense that hardcore gigs had to be violent," says Ishiya. "It made gigs a kind of extraterritorial space where ordinary rules didn't apply."
Despite the challenges, punk bands like Bastard faced, Zigyaku, guitarist of Bastard, found a sense of belonging in the chaotic pace of Tokyo. "The first thing I felt was that everyone was just flying," he says. "There were so many hardcore bands; there were gigs all over the place every week. Time passed so quickly. It was like Ryūgū-jō in Japanese folklore."
Each band maintained a distinct sound and identity, with a sense of rivalry that sharpened their creativity. "There was a sense of rivalry, but I think it was more like sharpening one another," says Ishiya. "It was a wonderful relationship where we would collide head-on and raise each other up."
This wild individualism was reflected in bands like Confuse, Disclose, SOB, Mobs, Crow, and Nightmare, who twisted hardcore into strange, aberrant shapes. "The musical lineage differs from that of overseas," suggests Ishiya. "Abroad, rock plays in ordinary households, but in Japan in the 60s or 70s, such a thing was unthinkable." He highlights how Japanese music is rooted in gentle forms like geinō kayōkyoku, enka, and folk, which made punk burn even brighter in Japan.
"If one rebels, one will likely move in a unique direction," says Ishiya, emphasizing the unique direction punk took in Japan.
