Japanese hip hop and the show that made it “cool”

Graphic by Gabriella Collin

By Gabriella Collin

A good soundtrack is memorable, it’s catchy, and it fits in seamlessly with the aesthetic of a series or movie. A show like FX’s The Bear (2022) is an alternative and classic rock dream, featuring the talents of R.E.M, Smashing Pumpkins, and Van Morrison. It has a soulful touch, which drives home emotional crescendos in the show, underscored by the likes of Otis Redding or Mavis Staples. Each song is meant to stand out, rather than existing in a void, solely for use in the show. The Bear triggers a nostalgia tripwire, and it tells the audience who the characters are without them having to say it for you.

Enter Samurai Champloo (2004), a single-season legend directed by Shinchirō Wanatabe. If the name sounds familiar, you might know him from his work on industry staple Cowboy Bebop, the melancholic story of wandering bounty hunters, toeing the line of life and death. Cowboy Bebop is widely regarded as one of the best anime of all time. Wanatabe’s early work, such as Bebop and Champloo have become known for the “Watanabe Ending”, wherein the duo or tritagonists part ways, either by choice or force of nature. In just 26 episodes, Samurai Champloo established itself as a revolutionary, inimitable piece of media. The only problem? Keeping it from disappearing. 

Spoilers ahead for Samurai Champloo, but to be fair, it ended almost 20 years ago. 

There’s a theory online that’s been cultivated by years of fetishization, deciding that just about anything is better when it comes from Japan. Animation is art? Only when it’s Studio Ghibli of course. Food? It’s grown pesticide and GMO free in Japan. Public transportation? Japan has women-only cars, because it's safer that way, because the government cares. No other reason. But when it comes to music, the conversation falls flat, the equation doesn’t work the same. A country “known” for producing VOCALOID stars, city pop and the Chika Fujiwara dance, the art of Japanese hip hop is often excluded. Which is ironic, considering the massive intersection between hip hop and animation. The soundtrack of Samurai Champloo stands out from other anime. The title, Samurai Champloo, is a play on words that sets the aesthetic of the series. Samurai served as military nobility in Japan from the Heian era (twelfth century) until their abolition in the 1870s during the Meiji period. The culture of samurai were built on honor and loyalty, on a dedication to their government as well as their craft. The word “champloo” comes from the Okinawan word chanpurū, which on its own means “to mix”. Mixing, mashing, and the marriage between beats and samples is one of the main pillars of hip hop. 

Samurai Champloo is about three travelers, toeing the line of death at nearly every turn. Mugen and Jin are rogue warriors, and upon meeting, are constantly at each other’s throats. Jin is on the run after slaughtering the master of his dojo, while Mugen is a brazen, hot-blooded vagabond. After meeting by coincidence in a tea shop, the two fight, burning the shop down in the process. This is when they meet Fuu, an orphan girl searching for the “samurai who smells like sunflowers”, who ends up being her father. Mugen and Jin are sentenced to death for the burning of the tea shop and wounding several townspeople in the process, and are broken out by Fuu. In exchange for saving them, Fuu enlists Mugen and Jin’s help in finding the elusive samurai, so long as they agree not to kill each other. Thus, the three travel across Edo era Japan, while getting into all sorts of trouble. 

The soundtrack for Samurai Champloo was produced by hip hop artists. Nujabes, the godfather of Lo-fi hip hop and the “chillhop” genre was one of the minds behind it. Otherwise known as Jun Seba, Nujabes was a producer and DJ from the Nishi-Azabu district in Minato, Japan. The soundtrack was released across four CD’s in 2004—Masta, Departure, Playlist and Impression. All of the albums work as standalone pieces, rather than only succeeding musically in the context of the show. While the hip hop soundtrack serves as background music, it often takes the front during emotional apexes. Due to the instrumental nature of the songs, with the exception of “BATTLECRY”, the intro, the lack of lyrics heightens the emotional depth of the characters. Take the song, “Counting Stars” for example. This song plays multiple times in the show, its first appearance is towards the end of an episode wherein the stoic and reserved character Jin falls in love with a brothel woman. Her name is Shino, and she is sold to her village’s brothel due to her husband’s crushing debt. Jin meets her before her first day of work, and seeks her out after learning about her condition. In an elaborate plan to run away together, Jin realizes he cannot leave Mugen and Fuu and gives Shino a boat to help her escape. As he pushes the boat away from the shore, the heavy rain that has persisted all episode lets up, and “Counting Stars” begins to crescendo. Shino, with tears in her eyes, curses her husband, saying, “I’m taking my life back. That’s the price of the woman who used to be your wife.” Upon realizing Jin will not accompany her, Shino cries while thanking Jin, who wordlessly watches her figure become enveloped in the mist. If “Counting Stars” had lyrics, it would ruin the entire moment. But at the same time, if it were a guitar or string arrangement, it would be cliché. Rather, these meticulously placed beats, paired with a scene-appropriate sampling is reflexive, it scores a bittersweet goodbye just as well as it suits a flashback. 

Hip hop, as a global phenomenon, has reached nearly every corner of every country. Created in the Bronx during the ‘70s, the foundations of hip hop were built in an inhospitable environment. At this time, the Bronx was regarded as a “third world country”, a battle zone, where schools and apartments were in constant demolition and the construction of the Cross-Bronx Expressway further isolated a borough with a population of one million. Scholars and musicians alike have argued that hip hop is not just a genre, it’s a way of life. Since its entrance into mainstream media, wealthy, white, conservative listeners have associated hip hop with hustle culture, showcasing wealth, and promotion of violence. Due to the systems of racism within and outside of the music industry, this is to be “expected.” However, in a country like Japan, there has been a more low-key success. A country known for its rigor, advanced technology and proactive urban environments, hip hop is used to protest the aspects of Japan that have made it famous. Suicide rates, sexual harassment and yakuza activity inspired rappers and MC’s to write counterculture lyrics, the shock value that comes from Japanese hip hop drew more and more attention to it within the country. An article titled “Black Masculinity as Performed in Japanese Visual Media” by Kendall Bazemore outlines the portrayals of Black men in Japanese TV shows. Bazemore states, “Hip hop is the vehicle through which Japan understands American blackness which manifests itself in various ways in Japanese media.” While Samurai Champloo is a revolutionary show, conscious viewers should not overlook the depiction of Mugen’s character, and how it reflected the Japanese perception of American hip hop. Mugen is an arrogant drunkard, and wears baggy clothes, similar to the streetwear of the late ‘90s. His skin is darker than the rest of the cast, and he has “wild”, afro-like hair. Not only does his fighting style mimic b-boy dancing, he was born on an island of criminal outlaws, quite literally entrenched in combat. Black characters have been poorly represented in anime, either as racist depictions such as the Pokémon Jynx and Mr. Popo from Dragon Ball (1984), or flat-out caricatures, like Killer B from Naruto, a rapping jinchuriki with bright blond hair. Samurai Champloo was the first anime to use hip hop in every element of the show, from the intro, to transitions, to using graffiti text and real Japanese beatboxers. Despite this victory, there are clear moments where the Japanese fascination with American blackness bleeds into the show. 

From the late ‘80s through the early ‘00s, Japanese hip hop struggled to find its footing. A lot of early hip hop artists and rappers from J-Pop groups co-opted American blackness, appropriating hip hop culture to launch their careers. Nujabes was the first of his kind in many regards, and should be remembered as a hip hop artist who was able to break the cultural appropriation chain. He worked with rappers outside of Japan, such as Fat Jon and Apani B, and became an underground legend. The problem now is preserving his legacy, Nujabes tragically died in 2010 from a car crash, leaving much of his work unfinished. Add to that the strict streaming laws from Japanese record labels, which prohibit digital distribution, the soundtrack of Samurai Champloo is never in the same place twice. Physical copies can be found on extremely expensive eBay listings, and uploaded to Youtube in incomplete parts. 
Samurai Champloo was canceled halfway through airing. The manga, often the source media for an anime series, was created after the show had finished, and is impossible to find online for a reasonable price, and unavailable in store. A show revolutionary in its genre stylings, created by a legendary director, is only available behind paywalls. There was a brief period when Samurai Champloo was only available on the streaming site Funimation, and while Crunchyroll, another anime streaming service has acquired a license, the future is uncertain. Some fans believe it’s only a matter of time before the show disappears altogether. A lot of praise for the show was given 15 to 20 years ago, when it was airing, and even then, the fanbase was rather small. There’s something immensely satisfying about putting someone “on” to a show you really like, but it’s not always guaranteed. Now more than ever, a show like Samurai Champloo needs the attention it deserves, for every song, animation cell, and official art; we might not get  another chance.