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私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
ビリー・ジョエルはニューヨークのダウンタウン育ちで、昔不良だったけれども見事公正し、ロックスターになったマンハッタンの伝説だ。
彼はやがてリスペクトする人々から”BOSS"というニックネームで呼ばれるようになったまでは何となく知っている。
現在では、ブルース・スプリングス・ティーンが”BOSS"と呼ばれているけれど、ブルース・スプリングス・ティーンが最初に”BOSS"と呼ばれ出した頃、彼もまたダウンタウンからの再生者と知ったビリー・ジョエルは、「俺は喜んで”BOSS"と呼ばれるのを止めるよ」と言った。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
ビリージョエルは生粋のニューヨークっ子だ、という記事を見た。
それを知った時、東京っ子、バリっ子という言葉は或るけれど、ニューヨーカーはそれを許さないと思っていた。
何となく、そんな風に呼ばれたくない。
全員、都会の一人。
と、何となく言いそうで、タイトスカートと薄めのストッキングにスニーカーを初めて履いた午前、私は、分かるだろうか？ と少し不安だった。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
今日は走らなきゃいけないからヒールじゃないの。という言い訳を作っておきながら、1000円の服を平気で着てくる私に、デパートの方がしなが良いから、デパートの方がしなが良いから、デパートの方がしなが良いから、と笑っていない目でリピートするだけの知らない子達は、以前、何それ？ と言った瞬間「KENZO」と言ったら、急に「良いね」と答えてしまって私から沈黙を贈られた。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
食堂で、見てあの子、食費削ってブランド物正値で買ってるんだって。
と私まで入れられた噂話に何と答えたか、もう忘れてしまったけれど、どう言ったらいいんだろう？ という良く分からない沈黙を縫って歩く最後に、「ニューヨーカーみたい」と少し低めの声で褒めて貰ったので、多分私はその日はニューヨーカーに慣れたのだ。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
ビリージョエルはよく知らないけれども、小学生の時に「何か外国の音楽を知りたくて」と話したら「ナイロン・カーテン」を勧められた。
その後、ビリージョエルの情報を集めたくて、「ビリー・ジョエル・・・」と言いかけると、大体「お、渋いね」「あービリー・ジョエルね」と遮って、話はすぐに変わってしまう。
薄々誰も知らないのでは？ と思い始める少し前に、ビリーはストレンジャーが嫌いなんだよ。とザ・ストレンジャーが好きな私に凄まじい情報を言う人々が現れた。
ビリージョエルはザ・ストレンジャーが嫌いなんだけど、ヒットしたから渋々このアルバムに入れたんだ。
そういえば幾つになっても、誰もがストレンジャーを掛ける度にイントロの口笛の部分が流れ終わってから、凄まじい早口で「ビリージョエルは嫌いだっていうけど、この曲はやっぱり良いと思って」
と言っていた。
やがて2026年の早春の晩、Apple Musicでビリー・ジョエルを聴いている時に、ふと勇気を出して「ストレンジャー聴いていい？」と尋ねた。
「・・・・？ いいよ」
早速あのイントロが流れて終わると、とても悲しげになってしまったけれど、「ビリージョエルはこの曲嫌いなんだって、嫌なのに人気があるから渋々アルバムに入れたんだって」
「・・・・・・・・・、何故ミュージシャンは大ヒットした楽曲を・・・「いや嘘だよ」」
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
「レコード屋の店員さんまで「ビリーはこの曲大好きだよ。今でも必ず歌うよ。それは嘘。」」
何故そんな事になったのだろう？
誰もビリー・ジョエルを聴いていないのに、知らないといけないマストミュージシャンとして話すのだろう？
そう言えば、最初に聞いた店員さんは「僕はナイロンカーテンが好きですね」と言っていた。
そして何故私達はストレンジャーのイントロを聴き終わってから、早口でザ・ストレンジャーは嫌いらしいけれど好きなので、とビリー・ジョエルと全世界のビリー・ジョエル・ファンに申し訳無く思いながら、軽く項垂れて聞くのだろう？
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
洋楽が分からない、と言われると、どうして食ってかかれないのだろう？
メジャーな世界的大ヒット曲は、沢山の人の耳に届き、心を打ったから世界的大ヒット曲なのだから、世界的大ヒット曲を好きで居て良いのだ。
新しく轢かれた真夜中のアスファルトはキラキラと光っている。その光一つ一つが世界的大ヒット曲なのだから、それは好きで当たり前なのだ。
日本という国は、けっこう近年まで余り外国と付き合いが無かった。
国としては歴史は古い方だと思う。2千年くらいは或るのだから。
でも海外の事はあまり知らないのでは？ という遠慮を全員が持っている。
音楽もそうだ。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
遠慮を何時迄も持っている。
洋楽で世界的大ヒット曲が好きな人は、音楽が余り分からないと思われそうと少し俯くし、実際私が一日だけニューヨーカーだった晴れて居た秋の日にも、メジャーな曲だけを好きなのはそのアーティストが好きではなく、流行っている曲が好きなのだ。という考えがあった。
私はアルバムを聴き込むタイプなので、好きな曲が他に或るだけでメジャーな大ヒット曲も良く聴いていた。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
アーティストは楽曲を創っているのだから、その曲が一生に一度創れるかどうかの、何か偉大な者に、ピアノの前に知らず知らずに座らされていた瞬間が訪れた曲が聴衆に伝われば、それは胸風吹き渡る相互体験で有り続けるものだろう。
大きくてオシャレの代名詞の名前を言われないと分からなかった素敵なシルエットの今でも覚えている帽子。
古着屋でまた手にした時、シルクの手触りが嬉しかったダナ・キャラン・ニューヨークのシャツ。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
誰かが良いと思うものは、必ず貴方にも良いものとして触れる。
嫌いなら、其れで良いのに、分かってないと言われる事が怖い。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
私は貴方達と同じ服を着たく無かったし、貴方達の来ている子供服売り場の服が大人サイズになっただけの、変に印象に残らない服が大嫌いだった。
貴方達はきっとニューヨークに行った事があったのだろう。
彼女はきっとニューヨークに行った事があったのだろう。
だからスタンダードにすらなってやっと日本に輸入されたニューヨーカースタイルをしてきた私に、全員に聞こえるように少し離れた所から、分かるよ、と伝えた。
私は今でも無い。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
私のニューヨークでは、ニョーヨーカーはニューヨークっ子と呼ばれ、実は訛りの或るニューヨーク弁を話す。
其処には地下鉄があり、余り治安が良くないのにも関わらず、そこを整地とするラッパーはホームでヒップホップダンスを路上の詩人に捧げる。
何処から来ても、ニューヨークはすぐ慣れるそうだ。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
ビリージョエルはストレンジャーを喜んで歌い、ブルース・スプリングス・ティーンもビリージョエルも”BOSS"で、ジャスティン・ビーバーは小さな男の子に真っ先に泣きながら「君は”BOSS"だ」と動画を撮る。
ナイン・ストーリーズが何時迄経っても分からない人達。
フローズン・ダイキリさえ飲んでいたら、メモライズな夜だと誰よりも真理を見抜く人間を気取る。
私はいつもforeignerなのだと思う。
カラオケで良く知りもしない同志が、流行りの曲で盛り上がってその後連絡先も交換しないのを、ミュージシャンを音楽を分かっていないバカと嘲笑う。
缶ビールを飲めば、何時迄も若者気取りと言い、バーに行ったら先ずは勉強しろと若者の頭を押さえつける。
そんな奴が、ビリー・ジョエルはザ・ストレンジャーが嫌いだと思い込み、大声でメディアに乗せて語ったのだろう。
きっとお前はニューヨークに居ながら、今夜は久しぶりにフレンチを予約して、終電後にゴータクで帰るんだろう。
お前が一生見つけられないパリへと続く階段の半ばに私は腰掛け、アスファルトを映した東京の夜景を見上げ続けるよ。
そんなものだ。
気にするなよ、私はいつもforeignerなのだから。
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I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
Billy Joel grew up in downtown New York; he was a troublemaker in his youth but turned his life around and became a rock star—a true Manhattan legend.
I vaguely recall that he eventually came to be known by the nickname “BOSS” among those who respected him.
Nowadays, Bruce Springsteen is called “The Boss,” but when Bruce Springsteen first started being called “The Boss,” Billy Joel—who knew he was another survivor from downtown—said, “I’ll gladly stop being called ‘The Boss.’”
I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
I read an article saying that Billy Joel is a true-blue New Yorker.
When I learned that, I thought that while there are terms like “Tokyoite” and “Baliite,” a true New Yorker wouldn’t allow it.
Somehow, I don’t want to be called that.
“We’re all just individuals in the city.”
I felt like I might say something like that, and on that morning when I wore a tight skirt, sheer stockings, and sneakers for the first time, I felt a little anxious, wondering, “Will they understand?”
I think I’m always a foreigner.
Even though I made the excuse, “I have to run today, so I’m not wearing heels,” the strangers who just repeated “Department stores are better, department stores are better, department stores are better” with unsmiling eyes—while I casually wore a 1,000-yen outfit—were the same ones who, when I said “KENZO” the moment they asked “What’s that?” earlier, suddenly replied “That’s nice” and were met with silence from me.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
In the cafeteria, someone said, “Look at that girl—she’s cutting back on her food budget to buy brand-name stuff at full price.”
I’ve already forgotten what I replied to that gossip that dragged me into it, but as I walked through that awkward silence—wondering, “What should I say?”—someone finally complimented me in a slightly low voice, “You look like a New Yorker.” So I guess I got used to being a New Yorker that day.
I suppose I’m always a foreigner.
I suppose I’m always a foreigner.
I don’t know much about Billy Joel, but when I was in elementary school, I mentioned that I “wanted to learn about foreign music,” and someone recommended “Nylon Curtain.”
Later, when I wanted to gather information about Billy Joel and started to say, “Billy Joel…,” people would usually interrupt with, “Oh, that’s a cool choice,” “Oh, Billy Joel,” and the conversation would immediately change.
Just before I started to suspect that maybe nobody actually knew him, people started telling me—to me, who loved “The Stranger”—the shocking news that Billy hates “The Stranger.”
Billy Joel hates “The Stranger,” but since it was a hit, he reluctantly included it on the album.
Come to think of it, no matter how old they got, every time anyone played *The Stranger*, as soon as the whistling part of the intro ended, they’d say in a rush: “I hear Billy Joel hates this song, but I still think it’s great.”
Then, one evening in early spring 2026, while listening to Billy Joel on Apple Music, I suddenly plucked up the courage to ask, “Can I listen to *The Stranger*?”
“...Huh? Sure.”
As soon as that intro finished playing, I felt incredibly sad, but I said, “I heard Billy Joel hates this song. He said he included it on the album reluctantly because it’s so popular even though he hates it.”
Billy Joel grew up in downtown New York; he was a troublemaker in his youth but turned his life around and became a rock star—a true Manhattan legend.
I vaguely recall that he eventually came to be known by the nickname “BOSS” among those who respected him.
Nowadays, Bruce Springsteen is called “The Boss,” but when Bruce Springsteen first started being called “The Boss,” Billy Joel—who knew he was another survivor from downtown—said, “I’ll gladly stop being called ‘The Boss.’”
I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
I read an article saying that Billy Joel is a true-blue New Yorker.
When I learned that, I thought that while there are terms like “Tokyoite” and “Baliite,” a true New Yorker wouldn’t allow it.
Somehow, I don’t want to be called that.
“We’re all just individuals in the city.”
I felt like I might say something like that, and on that morning when I wore a tight skirt, sheer stockings, and sneakers for the first time, I felt a little anxious, wondering, “Will they understand?”
I think I’m always a foreigner.
Even though I made the excuse, “I have to run today, so I’m not wearing heels,” the strangers who just repeated “Department stores are better, department stores are better, department stores are better” with unsmiling eyes—while I casually wore a 1,000-yen outfit—were the same ones who, when I said “KENZO” the moment they asked “What’s that?” earlier, suddenly replied “That’s nice” and were met with silence from me.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
In the cafeteria, someone said, “Look at that girl—she’s cutting back on her food budget to buy brand-name stuff at full price.”
I’ve already forgotten what I replied to that gossip that dragged me into it, but as I walked through that awkward silence—wondering, “What should I say?”—someone finally complimented me in a slightly low voice, “You look like a New Yorker.” So I guess I got used to being a New Yorker that day.
I suppose I’m always a foreigner.
I suppose I’m always a foreigner.
I don’t know much about Billy Joel, but when I was in elementary school, I mentioned that I “wanted to learn about foreign music,” and someone recommended “Nylon Curtain.”
Later, when I wanted to gather information about Billy Joel and started to say, “Billy Joel…,” people would usually interrupt with, “Oh, that’s a cool choice,” “Oh, Billy Joel,” and the conversation would immediately change.
Just before I started to suspect that maybe nobody actually knew him, people started telling me—to me, who loved “The Stranger”—the shocking news that Billy hates “The Stranger.”
Billy Joel hates “The Stranger,” but since it was a hit, he reluctantly included it on the album.
Come to think of it, no matter how old they got, every time anyone played *The Stranger*, as soon as the whistling part of the intro ended, they’d say in a rush: “I hear Billy Joel hates this song, but I still think it’s great.”
Then, one evening in early spring 2026, while listening to Billy Joel on Apple Music, I suddenly plucked up the courage to ask, “Can I listen to *The Stranger*?”
“...Huh? Sure.”
As soon as that intro finished playing, I felt incredibly sad, but I said, “I heard Billy Joel hates this song. He said he included it on the album reluctantly because it’s so popular even though he hates it.”
I guess I’ll always be a foreigner.
“Even the record store clerk said, ‘Billy really loves this song. He still sings it all the time. That’s a lie.’”
How did it come to this?
Even though nobody actually listens to Billy Joel, do we talk about him as some kind of “must-know” musician?
Come to think of it, the first clerk I spoke to said, “I like ‘Nylon Curtain.’”
And why is it that after listening to the intro of “The Stranger,” we find ourselves muttering under our breath—as if apologizing to Billy Joel and all his fans around the world—that we supposedly hate “The Stranger” but actually like it, while hanging our heads slightly in shame?
I think I’m always a “foreigner.”
When people say, “You don’t know Western music,” why can’t I argue back?
Major global hits are global hits precisely because they reached the ears of so many people and touched their hearts, so it’s perfectly fine to like them.
The freshly paved asphalt in the middle of the night glitters. Since each of those glimmers is a global hit, it’s only natural to love them.
Japan, as a country, didn’t have much interaction with the rest of the world until fairly recently.
As a nation, I think it has a long history—it’s been around for about two thousand years.
But everyone seems to harbor a sense of reserve, thinking, “Don’t we know very little about the outside world?”
It’s the same with music.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
I’ll always hold onto that sense of hesitation.
People who like global hit songs from Western music tend to hang their heads a little, worried they’ll be seen as not really understanding music. Even on that sunny autumn day when I was a New Yorker for just one day, I had this idea that liking only major hits meant I didn’t actually like the artist—I just liked the songs that were popular.
I’m the type who listens to albums deeply, so even if I had other favorite songs, I still listened to major hits quite often.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
Since artists create songs, if the moment when they were unconsciously seated at the piano—a moment that might only come once in a lifetime—and that song was created, and if that moment is conveyed to the audience, it will remain a mutual experience that stirs the heart.
That hat with the lovely silhouette—I still remember it—whose name I didn’t recognize until someone mentioned that iconic, stylish brand.
That Donna Karan New York shirt I found again at a thrift store; I was so happy to feel the silk against my skin.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
What someone else thinks is good will inevitably touch you as something good too.
If I dislike it, that’s fine, but I’m afraid of being told I just don’t get it.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
I never wanted to wear the same clothes as you all, and I hated those unremarkable clothes—just adult-sized versions of what you wore in the kids’ section—that left no impression at all.
You all must have been to New York.
She must have been to New York.
So when I showed up in that New York style—which had finally become standard enough to be imported to Japan—she said, “I get it,” from a little distance away, loud enough for everyone to hear.
I still don’t.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
In my New York, New Yorkers are called “New Yorkers,” and they actually speak New York slang with an accent.
There’s the subway there, and even though the area isn’t very safe, they treat it as their home turf.
“Even the record store clerk said, ‘Billy really loves this song. He still sings it all the time. That’s a lie.’”
How did it come to this?
Even though nobody actually listens to Billy Joel, do we talk about him as some kind of “must-know” musician?
Come to think of it, the first clerk I spoke to said, “I like ‘Nylon Curtain.’”
And why is it that after listening to the intro of “The Stranger,” we find ourselves muttering under our breath—as if apologizing to Billy Joel and all his fans around the world—that we supposedly hate “The Stranger” but actually like it, while hanging our heads slightly in shame?
I think I’m always a “foreigner.”
When people say, “You don’t know Western music,” why can’t I argue back?
Major global hits are global hits precisely because they reached the ears of so many people and touched their hearts, so it’s perfectly fine to like them.
The freshly paved asphalt in the middle of the night glitters. Since each of those glimmers is a global hit, it’s only natural to love them.
Japan, as a country, didn’t have much interaction with the rest of the world until fairly recently.
As a nation, I think it has a long history—it’s been around for about two thousand years.
But everyone seems to harbor a sense of reserve, thinking, “Don’t we know very little about the outside world?”
It’s the same with music.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
I’ll always hold onto that sense of hesitation.
People who like global hit songs from Western music tend to hang their heads a little, worried they’ll be seen as not really understanding music. Even on that sunny autumn day when I was a New Yorker for just one day, I had this idea that liking only major hits meant I didn’t actually like the artist—I just liked the songs that were popular.
I’m the type who listens to albums deeply, so even if I had other favorite songs, I still listened to major hits quite often.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
Since artists create songs, if the moment when they were unconsciously seated at the piano—a moment that might only come once in a lifetime—and that song was created, and if that moment is conveyed to the audience, it will remain a mutual experience that stirs the heart.
That hat with the lovely silhouette—I still remember it—whose name I didn’t recognize until someone mentioned that iconic, stylish brand.
That Donna Karan New York shirt I found again at a thrift store; I was so happy to feel the silk against my skin.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
What someone else thinks is good will inevitably touch you as something good too.
If I dislike it, that’s fine, but I’m afraid of being told I just don’t get it.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
I never wanted to wear the same clothes as you all, and I hated those unremarkable clothes—just adult-sized versions of what you wore in the kids’ section—that left no impression at all.
You all must have been to New York.
She must have been to New York.
So when I showed up in that New York style—which had finally become standard enough to be imported to Japan—she said, “I get it,” from a little distance away, loud enough for everyone to hear.
I still don’t.
I think I’m always a foreigner.
In my New York, New Yorkers are called “New Yorkers,” and they actually speak New York slang with an accent.
There’s the subway there, and even though the area isn’t very safe, they treat it as their home turf.
They say that no matter where you come from, you get used to New York right away.
I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
Billy Joel happily sings “Stranger,” and both Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel are “BOSS,” while Justin Bieber is the first to film a video of a little boy crying and saying, “You’re the ‘BOSS.’”
People who’ll never understand *Nine Stories*, no matter how much time passes.
As long as they’re drinking a Frozen Daiquiri, they act like they see the truth better than anyone else, claiming it’s a night to “memorize.”
I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
At karaoke, when fellow revelers I barely know get hyped up over a pop song and then don’t even exchange contact info afterward, musicians mock them as idiots who don’t understand music.
If I drink a can of beer, they say I’m trying to act young forever; if I go to a bar, they tell me to study first and push down on a young person’s head.
That’s the kind of person who probably convinced himself that Billy Joel hates “The Stranger” and shouted it from the rooftops in the media.
I bet you’re in New York right now, having made a reservation for French food for the first time in ages, and you’ll be heading home on the Go-Taku after the last train.
I’ll sit halfway up the stairs leading to Paris—a place you’ll never find in your lifetime—and keep gazing up at the Tokyo nightscape reflected on the asphalt.
That’s just how it is.
I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
Billy Joel happily sings “Stranger,” and both Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel are “BOSS,” while Justin Bieber is the first to film a video of a little boy crying and saying, “You’re the ‘BOSS.’”
People who’ll never understand *Nine Stories*, no matter how much time passes.
As long as they’re drinking a Frozen Daiquiri, they act like they see the truth better than anyone else, claiming it’s a night to “memorize.”
I suppose I’ll always be a foreigner.
At karaoke, when fellow revelers I barely know get hyped up over a pop song and then don’t even exchange contact info afterward, musicians mock them as idiots who don’t understand music.
If I drink a can of beer, they say I’m trying to act young forever; if I go to a bar, they tell me to study first and push down on a young person’s head.
That’s the kind of person who probably convinced himself that Billy Joel hates “The Stranger” and shouted it from the rooftops in the media.
I bet you’re in New York right now, having made a reservation for French food for the first time in ages, and you’ll be heading home on the Go-Taku after the last train.
I’ll sit halfway up the stairs leading to Paris—a place you’ll never find in your lifetime—and keep gazing up at the Tokyo nightscape reflected on the asphalt.
That’s just how it is.
Never mind—I’m always a foreigner, after all.
