Some songs carry the feeling of a season, even when you hear them in another one. For me, “Watashi no Heart wa Stop Motion” (私のハートはストップモーション) is a spring song, and it is a joy to listen to on a quiet autumn day. It was sung by Tomoko Kuwae (桑江知子) and released in January 1979.
About the song
This was Tomoko Kuwae’s debut single. It was used in a cosmetics commercial in the spring of 1979, reached No. 12 on the Oricon chart, and sold about 148,000 copies, which made it her biggest hit. That year it also won a Best New Artist award at the Japan Record Awards. The sound is bright and stylish, with a gentle city feeling, and in recent years it has been introduced as a song that city pop fans enjoy, too. It is a late-1970s pop song that feels like city pop.
What I remember
I did not know the English words “stop motion” back then. This song was the first time I heard them, and they felt fresh and exciting to me. What I loved most was the feeling of the song: a new love that comes in softly, together with spring. Even now, it makes me feel the warm air of that season.
A spring song that also suits autumn
This is a song of spring, when a new love comes in softly. Still, I like listening to it in autumn too, while the leaves slowly change color. Its light, hopeful feeling seems to warm a quiet autumn day. If you are looking for a gentle Showa-era song, I would love for you to try this one with a cup of tea.
The song does not seem to be sold as a CD at the moment, but in Japan it can be bought as a digital download. If you visit Japan, it might be fun to look for it in a record shop. Finding an old record or CD in a small shop can be a lovely little treasure hunt, and it is a good song to look for.
Is there a song that reminds you of a season, even when you hear it in a different one?
Thank you for listening with me. I hope this song stays in your heart, too.
Purple lights in Ginza at dusk. Not New York, but my own little Purple Town. Photo: Segaijin
Some songs make you dream of a faraway place before you even know where it is. For me, “Purple Town” by Junko Yagami is one of those songs. Released on July 21, 1980, its full title is “Purple Town (パープル タウン) ~You Oughta Know by Now~.”
About the song
“Purple Town” became a big hit, reaching No. 2 on the Oricon chart. That same year, it took Junko Yagami to the NHK Kohaku Uta Gassen, the famous New Year’s Eve music show, for the very first time. With its bright city sound, the song is now loved by city pop fans all over the world.
Junko Yagami made her debut in 1978. Later, in 1987, she moved to Los Angeles and continued her music there, so her story also crosses the ocean, just like this song.
What I remember
When I was little, I did not know much about the song itself. But I remember the phrase “New York” so clearly. Hearing it made me dream about New York, a place that seemed so shining and far away. And I often wondered, “What is a Purple Town?” It sounded like a magical city to me.
My favorite part was the moment she sings “I love…” in English. Her voice turns a little husky there, and I thought it was so cool. Even now, that part still gives me a small thrill. It stays in my heart as the sound of a big, bright city.
Junko Yagami’s best-of CD, with “Purple Town” as track 2 (CDJapan, affiliate link):
Morning light through the pomegranate tree in my garden. Photo: Segaijin
Some songs feel like the first light of the day. For me, “Kimi no Asa” (きみの朝), which means “Your Morning,” is one of them. It was released in 1979 by Satoshi Kishida, a singer-songwriter who later changed the way his name is written to 岸田敏志.
About the song
“Kimi no Asa” belongs to the gentle “new music” sound of late-1970s Japan, when singer-songwriters brought soft melodies and personal stories to the charts. The song begins quietly and slowly opens up, like a window letting the morning in. Kishida’s voice is clear and warm, and the piano carries the whole song with a calm, steady heart.
What I remember
I was only a child when this song was on the radio and TV. What I loved most was the moment the music rises into the word “morning.” Even as a little girl, that part felt so comfortable to me. His voice was beautiful, and I think the piano was a big part of the magic, too.
Looking back now, I realize the song carries a deeper story than I could understand back then. As a child, I simply felt the brightness of it. As an adult, I can hear the feelings hidden inside, and that makes the song even more precious to me. It stays in my heart like a quiet sunrise.
Satoshi Kishida’s album “Morning” on CD (CDJapan, affiliate link):
If you are looking for a Showa-era song to start your morning, I would love for you to try this one. Put it on with a cup of tea or coffee, and let the piano and that clear voice welcome the day with you.
Is there a song that you like to listen to in the morning, one that makes a new day feel a little brighter?
Every autumn, a soft green plant in my garden turns into a round ball of deep red. It is called kochia (コキア), and it is one of the most beautiful sights of the season for me.
From my garden
A friend of mine grew these kochia from seed and planted them in my garden, Mon Papillon. They were green and fresh in the warm months, and now, in autumn, they have turned a bright, glowing red. When the light touches the thin branches, the whole plant looks as if it is softly burning.
Kochia turning red in my garden in autumn. Photo: Segaijin
What is kochia?
Kochia is also called hokigusa (ほうきぐさ), which means “broom grass.” The thin branches were once dried and made into brooms, and the round, fluffy shape still looks a little like one. In summer it is a fresh green. In autumn it slowly changes to red, and each plant becomes a gentle ball of color. Its tiny seeds are eaten in some parts of Japan, too, and are known as tonburi.
Soft red balls of kochia in autumn. Photo: Segaijin
If you would like to see more: Ibaraki
If you would like to see kochia on a much larger scale, Hitachi Seaside Park (国営ひたち海浜公園) in Ibaraki Prefecture is famous for it. About 40,000 kochia plants grow on Miharashi Hill, the same hill that is covered in blue nemophila flowers in spring. In 2026, a “Kochia Carnival” is held from September 18 to November 3. The best time for the red color is usually around mid-October, and the colors move to a mix of red and brown toward the end of the month. Opening hours, fees, and the colors change from year to year, so please check the official website before you go.
The park is in Hitachinaka, and it can be reached from Tokyo by train and bus. I am only introducing it here as a gentle guide. For me, my own little garden is enough to enjoy the red of autumn.
When summer comes, there is one voice I always want to hear: Anri. Today I would like to share one of her warm, breezy summer songs with you.
Photo: hello aesthe / Pexels
The song
“Summer Candles” (サマー・キャンドル) is sung by Anri, one of the most loved voices of Japanese city pop. Her songs have a gentle, sparkling feeling, like evening light on the sea, and this one carries that mood beautifully.
Why I chose it
Anri is at the heart of the city pop sound that so many fans overseas have come to love: smooth melodies, a bright rhythm, and a touch of seaside romance. If you enjoy Japanese city pop, I think this song will feel very welcome to you.
What I remember
What touches my heart most is the very first line of the lyrics. It speaks about a miracle that is so close to us that we cannot see it. Every time I hear it, I feel I should look again at the people and the everyday moments right beside me, and thank them quietly. I also love the lines that wish for a new and beautiful tomorrow, for a long, long time to come. They sound like a quiet blessing, and they stay in my heart, long after the summer is over.
To tell the truth, I have always loved Anri’s ballads. Her voice is bright, but it is also tender, and it holds your feelings gently. If you enjoy this song, I hope you will also try her slower songs.
Listen
This is the surfing version, which I like best. It has a fresh, open feeling, like a breeze coming in from the water.
This version is closest to the one in my memories. I love the strength and brightness of her voice here, and it brings those summer days right back to me. Her newer arrangements are lovely too, and they are her own, but this is the voice I remember.
If you would like to hold an Anri album in your hands, CDJapan ships worldwide (affiliate link):
A thin white line drawn across a blue sky. It appears quietly, and then slowly fades away. This is the song that comes to my mind when I look up and find one.
Photo: Sherif Emad / Pexels
The song
“Hikoki-gumo (ひこうき雲)” is a song by Yumi Arai, who is now known as Yumi Matsutoya, or simply “Yuming.” It was released in 1973 as the title track of her first album. In 2013, it was chosen as the theme song of Studio Ghibli’s film The Wind Rises (風立ちぬ), and many new listeners around the world found it. The title means “contrail,” the white trail an airplane leaves in the sky.
Why I chose it
This is not city pop, and it is not an 80s idol song. It is an earlier, gentler song from the beginning of Japan’s “New Music” style. Still, Yuming is loved by many Showa fans overseas, and her soft, sweet sound is often said to have helped shape the city pop that came later. I wanted to share the place where that gentle sound began.
What I remember
I loved this melody long before I understood what the song was really about. I have always loved airplanes, and I have always longed for the sky. As a child, I loved watching contrails in the evening sky. The white lines slowly turned soft pink and gold, and I could look at them for a very long time.
Later, I learned that this is a song with sadness in it. Even so, the gentleness of the melody has stayed with me. Now, when I find a contrail in the evening sky, I still stop and look up for a moment. I have been lucky enough to travel to many places, and these days I watch them with a gentle heart and a feeling of gratitude.
Ikebukuro is a great place to enjoy for just a few hours. This time I stopped for a bowl of ramen first, and then went looking for anime goods. Here is the ramen part of my little trip.
Ramen at Tonchin (屯ちん)
I went to the Ikebukuro West Exit branch of Tonchin (屯ちん), a ramen shop that serves Tokyo-style tonkotsu (pork bone) ramen. The tonkotsu soup was delicious. It was around 3 p.m., a time when I thought it might be quiet, but every seat was full and some people were waiting outside. I also saw visitors from abroad enjoying their ramen, which made me feel happy.
The shop is open 24 hours a day, which is so helpful when you are traveling and your schedule is not fixed. Most people spend about 1,000 to 2,000 yen per person. (Please check the latest information before you go.)
Tonchin started here in Ikebukuro, and there are two branches in the area: the main branch and the West Exit branch. The West Exit branch is just a short walk from the station. Long ago, there were also branches in Kabukicho and Akasaka, and I used to go there often. So this bowl brought back many warm memories for me.
It is the kind of place where your feet seem to carry you naturally after an evening of drinking. And being open 24 hours is a joy even in the middle of a trip, whatever your schedule may be. This branch is close to the station and easy to find, so it is a comfortable place for visitors, too.
The ticket machine has an English button, so ordering is easy. Photo: Segaijin
How to order
You buy a meal ticket from the machine at the entrance, then hand it to the staff. The machine has an English button, and it takes cash, cards, transit IC cards and QR payments. If you like, you can ask for small changes at no extra cost, such as firmer or softer noodles, richer or lighter soup, more or less back fat, or more toppings of chopped green onion. Just tell the staff when you give them your ticket.
There are side dishes, too. Gyoza (dumplings) are 230 yen for 3 pieces or 380 yen for 5 pieces. Many people were also ordering fried chicken or a bowl of rice with their ramen.
A bowl of Tokyo-style tonkotsu ramen. Photo: Segaijin
At the counter
Because this is Tokyo-style tonkotsu, there was no red pickled ginger, but there was spicy pickled mustard greens (karashi takana). On the counter you will also find house-made chili oil, garlic and doubanjiang (a spicy bean paste). Please be careful if you do not like spicy food. A little at a time is a good way to try them.
Chili oil, garlic, doubanjiang and spicy pickled mustard greens on the counter. Photo: Segaijin
Then, Animate Ikebukuro Main Store
After the ramen, I walked over to Animate, one of the best-known anime and manga shops in Japan. The main store is about five minutes on foot from the East Exit of Ikebukuro Station, and the building has ten floors, so it is a lovely place to spend an hour or two.
A few floors to know about: the 1st floor has character goods and a café, the 2nd floor has manga, light novels and capsule toys, the 4th floor has apparel and household goods inspired by anime, the 5th floor has trading goods, straps and key chains, and the 6th floor has CDs, DVDs, Blu-rays and games.
The shop is open from about 10:00 to 21:00. Floors and events change from time to time, so please check the official website before you go.
I could happily stay here all day. I had also hoped to visit Sunshine City to see the Pokémon goods and the capsule toy machines, but by the time I had explored Animate from the bottom floor to the top, the hours had slipped away. Sunshine City will be my next visit.
If you would like to visit the Sunshine Aquarium there, you can buy your ticket online on Klook (affiliate link).
For anime music fans
For anime music fans, this album by voice actress and singer Nao Toyama is a gentle listen. CDJapan ships worldwide (affiliate links):
In autumn, soft pink cosmos flowers begin to sway in my garden. Every year, when I see them, this is the song that comes to my mind.
The song
“Cosmos (秋桜)” is a song by Momoe Yamaguchi, released in 1977. It was written and composed by Masashi Sada, a singer-songwriter known for his gentle, story-like songs. The title uses the characters for “autumn” and “cherry blossom,” and they are read as “cosmos.” I learned how to write the word this way from this very song.
Why I chose it
This is not city pop, and it is not an 80s idol song. It is a quiet idol ballad from the late 1970s. Still, I wanted to share it because it shows another soft side of Showa music: a calm autumn day, a gentle melody, and feelings that are not spoken out loud.
What I remember
The cosmos in my garden bloom every autumn, and when they do, I think of this song. The flowers are delicate, but they keep swaying in the wind and stand tall.
Cosmos blooming in my garden. I wonder if this is what the color “usubeni” looks like? Photo: Segaijin
The song begins with a color: “usubeni,” a pale crimson, a soft pink with a little red in it. When I first heard that word, I thought, what a graceful way to describe this color. It sounds so grown-up and so gentle. And the way the flower is written, “autumn cherry blossom,” shows such beautiful taste. They really do look like cherry blossoms of autumn.
There are cosmos in many colors. Yellow and orange ones, called “kiba-na cosmos” (yellow cosmos), bloom in Japan too, and they are lovely. But for this song, I always picture cosmos in exactly this soft pink.
The song follows a daughter on the day before her wedding, quietly looking at her mother and the time they have shared. The whole song feels like a warm, quiet autumn afternoon.
By the way, I am a great fan of Masashi Sada, the writer of this song. Every year, I look forward to his programs on NHK around the end of the year and the New Year holidays. His gentle words and melodies feel like a warm light in the middle of winter. Perhaps that is why this song, written by him, stays so close to my heart in autumn.
Some songs feel like looking out of an airplane window. “Midori no Machi ni Maiorite” (緑の町に舞い降りて) is one of them. It is a soft, sparkling song about the view from the sky as you come down toward a town.
The song
This song is on the 1979 album “Kanashii hodo Otenki” (悲しいほどお天気) by Yumi Matsutoya (松任谷由実), also known as “Yuming.” She wrote both the words and the music herself.
The song begins with a view from an airplane window, and it carries the light, open feeling of spring and early summer. It is a gentle song, and the scenery seems to open up as it goes along.
Why I chose it
This is a song from the late 70s, and its stylish, airy sound belongs to the world of what people now call “city pop.” If you enjoyed “Chuo Freeway,” I think you will love this one too.
What I remember
I love the sound of the name “Morioka” in this song. Every time it comes, it stays in my heart. I have always loved airplanes, so the view from the window, with the shadows of the plane and the clouds, is something I enjoy imagining.
The lyrics say that the name sounds like the Russian language. That image stayed with me, and I used to wonder, “Does it really sound like that?” Whenever I hear the song, I say the name quietly to myself and listen again.
Looking out over the airport under a wide sky. Photo: Segaijin
A few years ago, The New York Times placed Morioka second on its list of 52 places to go in 2023, just after London. When I read the news, I felt so happy, as if a place I had loved quietly for a long time had finally been found by the world. (Source: Unseen Japan)
Some songs make an ordinary road feel like a story. “Chuo Freeway” (中央フリーウェイ) is one of them. It is a gentle, sparkling song about driving, and it still feels fresh today.
The song
“Chuo Freeway” was released on November 20, 1976, on the album “The 14th Moon” (14番目の月). At that time the singer used her maiden name, Yumi Arai (荒井由実). Today many people know her as Yumi Matsutoya (松任谷由実), or simply “Yuming.” She wrote both the words and the music herself.
The song paints a picture of a drive along a highway, with the scenery passing by on both sides. It is said that she drew on views she had seen many times while growing up. It was never released as a single, but it has become one of her best-loved songs, and people still choose it as a favorite song for driving.
Why I chose it
This song is part of the roots of what people now call “city pop.” The sound is light and stylish, and it carries the quiet, sparkling mood of a city at night. If you love city pop, I hope you will enjoy listening to where that feeling began.
What I remember
When I drove past the racecourse, I often played this song. The calm, sparkling mood of the music fit the scenery so well. I would listen quietly and gaze at the view, and I felt as if I had become a shooting star.
The song describes the road as if it were a runway stretching into the night sky. I have always loved airplanes, so this image stayed in my heart. As I listened, I felt as if the road and the sky were connected.
It is not a night sky, but a runway stretching toward the sky, just like in the song. Photo: Segaijin
I also love the opening of this song. Even now, when I hear it, it feels bright and gentle, and it takes me right back to the road.
