「今のこの気持ち ほんとだよね」
( 強い気持ち・強い愛 / 小沢健二より )
強い気持ち・強い愛 / 小沢健二
作詞 / 小沢健二
作曲 / 筒美京平
編曲 / 小沢健二 ・ 筒美京平
記憶では80年代の体感はとても暗く重い世界が広がって居る。
埋立地の土曜日の早い午後、（つまり土曜は1限だけ出てサボって海に行くということ。 ）すごく晴れて居るけれど、いつも毎日何もかも悲し過ぎて、晴れた海でも見て気分でも治すかな。という感じ。
思い出すといつも一人でしかいない。
すごく晴れて居るけれど、誰もいないから特をしたような、すうっと斜めになっていく大地に平気で突っ立ったまま最終的には可笑しくなって、なんだか笑って居る感じ。
それはそれで何とかなるからだし、実際、私が如何にもせずとも世界は何とかなったままだった。
なのに同様に、澄み切った湿度のない白く、シャープで、明るくてお洒落ですっきりした風が吹くイメージが最初の方に残って居る。
正確には70年代の中盤頃からそれは確かに私には届いていた。
他に届いていた人も中には居るかもしれない。
え、そうだっけ？ と思っても、ほらアレよ。
ゴールデンウイークとか9月の中間テストの後、
もうこれからずっとサボるかな？
それともこのまま騙し騙し続ける？って、レモネードや、
何回飲んでもブルーハワイにはならないしストローも赤と白の素敵な横ストライプにはならないクリームソーダが、
泡と氷の光るグリーンの上に乗ったままずっと考え込んでる、
冷房が効いた喫茶店の中、絶対いま私、楽しそうに恋の予感に包まれている女の子になってるよね、と可笑しい感じ。
そんな時にまでもお洒落で洗練された世界を祝福する様に、スゴく白い光があったあの夏の頃。
それが急に何処かで何かもの凄い事が起こっていたらしくて、ある日寝て起きて相変わらずイヤイヤ靴履いて外出たら、世界が真っ暗になっていたのでした。
びっくり。
え？ いま夜だったけ？ 夜のまま昼とか夕方とかテレビが轟音を立てて変わっていて、皆すっごい暗い人ばかりになっててぽかんとしたまま私達は息を潜めていた。
綺麗で憧れていた素敵な髪の長いお姉さん達やマヌカンさん達を急に騒がしく憎み始めていてドラマは怖い話ばかり、どこもかしも罵倒で、兎に角怒っているし、私は私で大変だったし、でも何処か、これホントかな？ 皆ホントにこれ良いって思ってんのかな？ ホントにそれ声出して笑い転げて楽しいんだっけ？
ーーーーーねえ、何か付き合いでやってない？
誰も鞄の底に潰れたままになっていたカビたパンの話なんて興味ないんだけど？
どうしてそんなことばっかり大声で喚いてんの？
何があったのよ？
そして、それがどうかしたの？
電気通って、エアコンは点くし、ブランドの服は発展してってリッツに日本から若い人が泊まりに来るって、東京12チャンネルの11頃から放送されてるじゃん。
という暗い、
ま・る・で、誰かの都合だけでこの世界は失敗でした。真っ暗でした。すんごい真っ暗で酷い世界でしたって、テーブルクロスを引っ張って食器や細くて銀や金が印刷されたそれはそれは美しいフルートグラスをプールの底めがけてひっくり返しやがりまで始めやがったので、
私は片手に、出たばかりの香水の瓶を握ったまま、唖然としながら、これからは強く生きるしか無い、と心に誓った後、数年経って、ホラやっぱり何とかなったし、そんな騒ぐ事なかったじゃん、とウンザリしていたら、この楽曲がすっきり明るくてドライに変わった世の中に流れ出していた。
これまたタイミングを外してしまって、皆、ディスコでサーフでブライアン・アダムス乗りの格好良い楽曲の上、小沢健二が、Lovelyでお馴染みの、手足の長い、フリッパーズやっててしばらくビートルズは古いって書いてあったコメントに、何故か落ち込みながらも堂々と言えて羨ましいな、ここでそんな事言ったら音楽分かってない人って言われて終わるのに、良いな、伸び伸びしてて頭が良い人達はやっぱり違うんだな、と閉店前のTSUTAYAの中古CDのポップを読んでいた。
小沢健二は、フリッパーズもだけど、現れてすっごい勢いで、新しい世界始まりまーす。僕達が始めまーす。パンツは今日から半パンオッケーでーすっていう予感だらけのアルバムの後、オザケンとか居酒屋でラブリーにはしゃぐ私はヤジられながらハシャギをより大きくして小沢健二とラブリーの為に戦い、小沢くんに夢中な性格まで良いらしい女の子と、ギャルって後で呼ばれ始めた、すっごい綺麗で兎に角目が大きすぎてまつ毛がバサバサでスタイルがすっごい良い女の子達が、今度の小沢くんの良いよね？って言っていたのに、他の人は、え、そう、だっけ。コレ、有りでしたっけ？というリアクションだったので、私は、もー、またーー！ とチャンピオンズのニットの帽子を買って来て、ようやっと片手に握りしめ続けていた香水の瓶を、久しぶりに聴く、コトン、という小気味良い音にうっとりしながら、心底、安心して四角いガラスの机の上に置いたのでした。
・
・
・
“This feeling right now—it's real, right?”
( “Strong Feelings, Strong Love” / by Kenji Ozawa )
( “Strong Feelings, Strong Love” / by Kenji Ozawa )
Strong Feelings, Strong Love / Kenji Ozawa
Lyrics / Kenji Ozawa
Music / Kyohei Tsutsumi
Arrangement / Kenji Ozawa & Kyohei Tsutsumi
Music / Kyohei Tsutsumi
Arrangement / Kenji Ozawa & Kyohei Tsutsumi
As I recall, the world of the ’80s felt very dark and heavy.
It was an early Saturday afternoon at the landfill site (which meant I’d attend just the first class on Saturday and then skip the rest to go to the beach). It was incredibly sunny, but every single day, everything felt so overwhelmingly sad that I’d think, “Maybe looking at the sunny ocean will cheer me up a little.”
When I think back, I was always alone.
It was incredibly sunny, but since no one else was there, it felt like I’d gotten the place all to myself. I’d just stand there nonchalantly on the gently sloping ground, and eventually it would start to seem funny, and I’d find myself laughing for some reason.
That’s because things would work out one way or another, and in fact, even if I didn’t do anything, the world just kept on going as it was.
And yet, at the same time, the image of a crisp, dry, white, sharp, bright, stylish, and refreshing breeze lingers from the early days.
To be precise, that had definitely been reaching me since around the mid-’70s.
There might have been others who felt it too.
“Wait, was that really the case?” I might think, but, you know, that thing.
Like during Golden Week or after midterm exams in September,
“Should I just skip school from now on?”
Or should I just keep fooling myself like this?”—while sipping lemonade,
or a cream soda that, no matter how many times I drank it, would never turn into a Blue Hawaii, and whose straw would never become those lovely red-and-white horizontal stripes—
I’d sit there lost in thought, my drink perched atop the sparkling green foam and ice,
inside an air-conditioned coffee shop, feeling a bit silly as I thought, “Right now, I’m definitely that girl who looks like she’s having fun, wrapped up in the anticipation of love.”
Back in that summer, when there was this incredibly bright white light, as if to celebrate a stylish, sophisticated world even in moments like that.
But it seemed something tremendous had suddenly happened somewhere, and one day, after waking up, reluctantly putting on my shoes as usual, and heading out, the world had gone pitch black.
I was shocked.
Huh? Was it nighttime already? The TV was blaring as it switched from night to daytime or evening, and everyone had turned into these incredibly gloomy people, so we just stood there dumbfounded, holding our breath.
It was an early Saturday afternoon at the landfill site (which meant I’d attend just the first class on Saturday and then skip the rest to go to the beach). It was incredibly sunny, but every single day, everything felt so overwhelmingly sad that I’d think, “Maybe looking at the sunny ocean will cheer me up a little.”
When I think back, I was always alone.
It was incredibly sunny, but since no one else was there, it felt like I’d gotten the place all to myself. I’d just stand there nonchalantly on the gently sloping ground, and eventually it would start to seem funny, and I’d find myself laughing for some reason.
That’s because things would work out one way or another, and in fact, even if I didn’t do anything, the world just kept on going as it was.
And yet, at the same time, the image of a crisp, dry, white, sharp, bright, stylish, and refreshing breeze lingers from the early days.
To be precise, that had definitely been reaching me since around the mid-’70s.
There might have been others who felt it too.
“Wait, was that really the case?” I might think, but, you know, that thing.
Like during Golden Week or after midterm exams in September,
“Should I just skip school from now on?”
Or should I just keep fooling myself like this?”—while sipping lemonade,
or a cream soda that, no matter how many times I drank it, would never turn into a Blue Hawaii, and whose straw would never become those lovely red-and-white horizontal stripes—
I’d sit there lost in thought, my drink perched atop the sparkling green foam and ice,
inside an air-conditioned coffee shop, feeling a bit silly as I thought, “Right now, I’m definitely that girl who looks like she’s having fun, wrapped up in the anticipation of love.”
Back in that summer, when there was this incredibly bright white light, as if to celebrate a stylish, sophisticated world even in moments like that.
But it seemed something tremendous had suddenly happened somewhere, and one day, after waking up, reluctantly putting on my shoes as usual, and heading out, the world had gone pitch black.
I was shocked.
Huh? Was it nighttime already? The TV was blaring as it switched from night to daytime or evening, and everyone had turned into these incredibly gloomy people, so we just stood there dumbfounded, holding our breath.
I suddenly started to hate—loudly and fiercely—the beautiful, long-haired older women and models I’d once admired; the TV dramas were nothing but scary stories; everywhere you looked, people were hurling insults; everyone was just so angry.
I was having a hard time myself, but somewhere deep down, I wondered: Is this for real?
Does everyone really think this is good? Are they really laughing out loud and having fun like that?
————Hey, aren’t you just going along with it?
Nobody’s interested in some story about moldy bread that’s been squashed at the bottom of a bag, right?
Why are you yelling about stuff like that so loudly?
What happened?
And so what?
The electricity’s on, the AC works, designer clothes are booming, and young people from Japan are coming to stay at the Ritz—they’ve been airing that on Tokyo Channel 12 around 11 p.m., haven’t they?
It was so gloomy—
it was as if this whole world had failed just to suit someone’s convenience. It was pitch black. It was an incredibly dark and terrible world—and then they even started yanking the tablecloth, knocking over the dishes and those incredibly beautiful flute glasses with their delicate silver and gold patterns, sending them tumbling toward the bottom of the pool, so
I stood there dumbfounded, still clutching a brand-new bottle of perfume in one hand, and after vowing to myself that from now on I’d have to live strong, a few years passed. Just as I was feeling fed up, thinking,
————Hey, aren’t you just going along with it?
Nobody’s interested in some story about moldy bread that’s been squashed at the bottom of a bag, right?
Why are you yelling about stuff like that so loudly?
What happened?
And so what?
The electricity’s on, the AC works, designer clothes are booming, and young people from Japan are coming to stay at the Ritz—they’ve been airing that on Tokyo Channel 12 around 11 p.m., haven’t they?
It was so gloomy—
it was as if this whole world had failed just to suit someone’s convenience. It was pitch black. It was an incredibly dark and terrible world—and then they even started yanking the tablecloth, knocking over the dishes and those incredibly beautiful flute glasses with their delicate silver and gold patterns, sending them tumbling toward the bottom of the pool, so
I stood there dumbfounded, still clutching a brand-new bottle of perfume in one hand, and after vowing to myself that from now on I’d have to live strong, a few years passed. Just as I was feeling fed up, thinking,
“See? It all worked out anyway—I didn’t need to make such a fuss,” this song started playing in a world that had become refreshingly bright and dry.
Once again, I missed the timing. While everyone was grooving to cool tracks—from disco to surf to Brian Adams—Kenji Ozawa was performing “Lovely,” that song everyone knows, with his long limbs, and the Flippers were playing.
I saw a comment that said, “The Beatles are old news now,” and even though it somehow got me down, I envied how he could say it so confidently.
If I said something like that here, I’d just be labeled as someone who doesn’t understand music and that would be the end of it. But I thought, “It’s great—those free-spirited, smart people really are different,” as I read the pop-up signs for used CDs at TSUTAYA just before closing time.
Kenji Ozawa—not just with the Flippers, but ever since he burst onto the scene with incredible momentum, announcing, “A new world is beginning! We’re kicking it off! And starting today, shorts are totally okay!”—after that album brimming with anticipation, there I was, getting heckled while getting even more hyped up at an izakaya, shouting “Ozaken!” and “Lovely,” fighting for Kenji Ozawa and “Lovely,” A girl who was apparently so nice she was even crazy about Ozawa-kun, and girls who later came to be called “gals”—incredibly beautiful girls with eyes that were just way too big, thick, lush eyelashes, and amazing figures—were saying, “Ozawa-kun’s new one’s great, right?”
Kenji Ozawa—not just with the Flippers, but ever since he burst onto the scene with incredible momentum, announcing, “A new world is beginning! We’re kicking it off! And starting today, shorts are totally okay!”—after that album brimming with anticipation, there I was, getting heckled while getting even more hyped up at an izakaya, shouting “Ozaken!” and “Lovely,” fighting for Kenji Ozawa and “Lovely,” A girl who was apparently so nice she was even crazy about Ozawa-kun, and girls who later came to be called “gals”—incredibly beautiful girls with eyes that were just way too big, thick, lush eyelashes, and amazing figures—were saying, “Ozawa-kun’s new one’s great, right?”
But the others reacted with, “Huh? Oh, was it?” “Was this even a thing?”
So I thought, “Oh, again!” I went out and bought a Champions knit hat, and finally—enchanted by the satisfying “Brink Bright Brink Clink” of the perfume bottle I’d been clutching in one hand for so long—I set it down on the square glass desk, feeling deeply relieved.
