Why Is Japan a Jazz Paradise? Part 2—From Sake to Soul: Jazz Musicians and Their Love for Japan

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In May 2025 Japan welcomed an estimated 3.693 million visitors, marking a surge in global fascination with the country—up 125% (more than double!) compared to a decade ago. Many come for the exquisite Japanese cuisine, the tranquil atmosphere of temples and shrines, the ultra-modern buzz of Tokyo, or the soothing beauty of rural landscapes.

But long before this boom, our proud jazz legends—the predecessors with finely tuned ears and sensitive souls—had already fallen in love with Japan. What was it about Japan that captivated them? Was it the sushi, sake, or something else?

We musicians know the drill—touring usually means rushing from one venue to the next, squeezing in rehearsals and sound checks, with barely a moment for wandering. So what was it that truly drew them in?

In the 1960s and '70s, more and more American jazz musicians began touring Japan.

With the rise of commercial jet travel, flying from the U.S. to Japan became faster and easier.

At the same time, the U.S. government actively promoted jazz abroad as part of its cultural diplomacy during the Cold War—and Japan was one of the key destinations. Japan's rapid economic growth, modern infrastructure, and a growing middle class eager for new culture made it a warm and welcoming place for visiting jazz artists. Their music tells the story of this special bond better than words ever could.

The Tokyo Blues—Horace Silver

With Blue Mitchell (trumpet), Junior Cook (tenor sax), Gene Taylor (bass), and Joe Harris (drums), Horace Silver released The Tokyo Blues on Blue Note. The album's track titles hint at a deep inspiration from Japan: "Too Much Sake," "Sayonara Blues," "The Tokyo Blues," "Cherry Blossom," and "Ah! So" (likely a play on the Japanese phrase あ、そう, meaning "Is that so?").

Silver is said to have composed "Tokyo Blues" by blending Japanese melodies with Latin rhythms, inspired by his Japan tour in early 1962. However, on closer listening, the Asian-sounding melodies seem more Chinese than Japanese. The other tracks are all groovy, jazzy pieces without a distinctly Japanese feel. Still, the Japanese-themed titles suggest a warm nod to Japanese jazz fans, which adds a charming touch.

Even if there may have been a hint of business ambition behind this gesture—perhaps an eye on opportunities in Japan—we cannot help but smile at an album that shows such genuine fondness for Japan!

Nippon Soul—Cannonball Adderley

Recorded live in Tokyo's Sankei Hall and Koseinenkin Hall, this album features Cannonball Adderley (alto sax), Nat Adderley (cornet), Yusef Lateef (tenor sax, flute, oboe), Joe Zawinul (piano), Sam Jones (bass), and Louis Hayes (drums). Though the title track "Nippon Soul" is actually a standard blues without specifically Japanese melodies, the album is a testament to the powerful energy Adderley felt from Japanese audiences. Producer Orrin Keepnews explains in the liner notes:

"The Japanese audience is definitely a part of the proceedings ... they burst forth at the end of a selection in a most dramatic contrast. And the way they line up for everyone's autograph after a concert... makes you feel like a movie star."

The title reflects the deep emotional connection and passionate energy between the musicians and the Japanese audience, rather than a Japanese musical style. Yes, we Japanese listeners are quiet—but deeply passionate.

"Koto Song"—Dave Brubeck

Brubeck's quartet—Dave Brubeck (piano), Paul Desmond (saxophone), Eugene Wright (bass), Joe Morello (drums)—created this album as a musical travel diary, capturing impressions from their 1964 Japan tour. Tracks like "Tokyo Traffic," "Rising Sun," "Fujiyama," and "Osaka Blues" paint vivid soundscapes of Japan. While today's young people capture their impressions of Japan with mobile phone photos, these musicians captured theirs in sound.

The final track, "Koto Song," is a 12-bar minor blues imbued with Japanese spirit, influenced by the koto's unique scale—similar to but distinct from the Western pentatonic scale, notably including half steps that create a wistful, melancholic sound. Brubeck wrote:

"Of the classical instruments I heard, I was most fascinated by the koto, a thirteen-string convex-shaped zither."

This is how jazz musicians are—always reaching for something new, something unheard.

"Oriental Folk Song"—Wayne Shorter

Wayne Shorter first visited Japan in 1961 as a member of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers, and from then on, he returned many times over the years. I will never forget the first time I heard him live—in Tokyo, 1978, with Weather Report: Joe Zawinul (keyboards), Jaco Pastorius (electric bass), and Peter Erskine (drums). Long before that concert, though, Shorter had already touched on something deeply Japanese in one of his compositions.

Shorter's "Oriental Folk Song" struck me deeply when I first heard it—the melody mirrors the traditional Japanese folk song "Sunayama (砂山 = Sand Mountain)," which my mother used to sing for me when I was a child. Later, when I played the piano accompaniment myself while listening to the track, I was surprised to find how perfectly it aligned with the melody of "Sunayama." Shorter's first wife, Mitsuko, was Japanese, so perhaps her humming inspired this beautiful piece.

The modal improvisation layered over this folk foundation shows how cultural memory can fuse with modern jazz language.

"Ad Lib on Nippon"—Duke Ellington

Duke Ellington's concept album was inspired by his Asia—Middle East tour. Unfortunately, during the tour, news of President Kennedy's assassination reached the band, and they were forced to cut the trip short and return home. Still, the impressions they gathered during their time in Japan seem to have left a lasting mark.

In the track "Ad Lib on Nippon," the piano theme at the beginning is marked by moments of silence, evoking ma—the uniquely Japanese sense of space and pause. What follows is a playfully Japanese-sounding melody. You can even hear clarinet phrases reminiscent of the shakuhachi, the traditional Japanese bamboo flute. The contrast with the groovy jazz sections is striking. It almost seems to capture the energy and dizzying momentum of Japan's rising productivity and economic boom at the time. You might say it has the very feel of East-meets-West jazz.

This piece is noteworthy not only for its musical qualities but also for its linguistic choices. (The same could be said for Cannonball Adderley's Nippon Soul.) The use of "Nippon" instead of "Japan" shows a sensitivity to how Japanese people refer to their own country—a reflection, perhaps, of how deeply jazz artists honor their origins.

"Soran-Bushi, B.H."—Billy Harper

"Soran-bushi" is a traditional fisherman's work song from Hokkaido, originally used to synchronize labor during herring fishing. Billy Harper re-imagines this song with modal intensity. While the melody is transformed, it remains recognizable, and his modal style fits seamlessly with the spirit of the original—fueling a powerful and inspired performance.

Hearing this connection between a centuries-old Japanese folk tune and modal jazz fills me with a quiet sense of pride.

"Vignette"—Gary Peacock

Gary Peacock's love for Japan is well-known. He spent over two years living there in the late 1960s, immersing himself in macrobiotics, Zen, Shinto, and traditional medicine, while recording with talented Japanese musicians including pianist Masabumi Kikuchi and drummer Masahiko Togashi.

This stay is said to have deeply influenced his music and approach to improvisation—particularly through his appreciation of a subtle feature of the Japanese language: the frequent omission of the subject "I" (わたし watashi), which he reportedly associated with a kind of selflessness in jazz improvisation. It's the kind of insight that perhaps only a foreigner could have—something so natural to us Japanese that we might easily overlook it.

On the album Tales of Another, featuring Keith Jarrett (piano) and Jack DeJohnette (drums), the opening cymbal sounds of "Vignette" evoke temple atmospheres, and we can hear the harmonic textures echo the koto's unique pentatonics—sorrowful, suspended, and serene. Peacock's bass solo subtly incorporates these Japanese tonalities, as if drawing sound from memory. Especially striking is the low B note in the bass—heard in both the opening theme and the ending—which resonates like a monk's chant.

Knowing this was his comeback album after returning from Japan makes it all the more convincing.

Flowers and Respect

These keen-eared jazz musicians heard something new and fresh in Japanese folk melodies—the pentatonic scale common in Japan is subtly different from Western versions, imbued with a wistful and introspective quality. They were drawn not only to these unique sounds but also deeply impressed by the Japanese audience's polite attentiveness and profound respect for musicians.

I will never forget sitting next to Tommy Flanagan—one of the most beloved and respected jazz pianists of his generation—and his wife at a Blossom Dearie show at Danny's Skylight Room in New York. When I mentioned I was from Japan, she lit up:

"Japan is amazing! They once gave Tommy flowers on stage after a concert—imagine that! Jazz musicians never get flowers. It was unforgettable."

That is Japan. A country where artistry is honored and "fandom" is full of heartfelt devotion—a concept we even have a word for: "hiiki" (贔屓). It is not about trend or celebrity. It is about gratitude and reverence for beauty, regardless of origin.

Hank Jones titled his 1962 album on Progressive Records: Arigato (Arigato means "Thank you.")

To all the musicians who shared their hearts with us: Arigato. Right back at you!

In Closing

Last June, during a tour in Japan, we had just one day off before the next concert. We visited Kamakura, the 13th-century former capital of Japan. As we walked down the stone steps from a quiet temple, the Dutch bassist I was touring with said, almost to himself, "I can't quite put it into words, but something about Japan really gets to me. The vibe at the concerts, the feeling in the air... I'd really love to come back someday."

So yes, maybe it started with sake. But what kept them coming back was something far more soulful.

Tōkei-ji Temple, Kita-Kamakura, Japan

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