The other day, three friends from the same generation and I went to karaoke.
Since none of us knows many recent songs, it naturally turned into a nostalgic karaoke night.
We sang songs by Seiko Matsuda, Akina Nakamori, Yuki Saito, Shizuka Kudo, Cocco, TM NETWORK, and many others.
Most of the songs were from the 1980s through the early 2000s.
I chose to sing “Lovely” by Kenji Ozawa, an artist I had been a huge fan of since around 1994.
I once went to see him perform live. Before that concert, I only knew his name and a few of his songs, but after seeing him on stage, I completely fell in love with his music.
After that, I became a devoted fan.
I owned nearly all of his CDs, and I also went back and listened obsessively to Flipper’s Guitar, the band he had been part of before beginning his solo career.
The band had already broken up by then, but I listened to their music so many times that, had they been records, I probably would have worn them out.
This time, as I sang “Lovely” while reading the lyrics on the karaoke screen, I noticed again just how much positivity the song contains.
There is such a strong sense of hope for the future.
A feeling of affirmation.
A bright and colorful atmosphere, as though something wonderful is just about to begin.
I suddenly thought,
“So this is how I felt 30 years ago.”
In my twenties, I imagined many things about the future.
I believed that one day I would fall completely in love with someone.
In fact, several times I thought I had.
And then those relationships fell apart.
Maybe there was also a time when I felt like waving to the world and saying hello.
Even if it only lasted for a brief moment, I think I really did feel that way once.
There was the bright, colorful world I had imagined for my future.
And then there were the 30 years I actually lived afterward.
Looking back, those years were not always filled with bright colors. Many of them feel much closer to gray.
The contrast between the future I once imagined and the person I am today left me with a feeling I could not quite describe.
As the song came to an end, the instrumental outro continued for a while.
I was just about to stop the song early when the final words appeared on the screen:
“Life is coming back!”
It felt like one final emotional blow.
I realized how much I had already given up.
And then I thought:
No, I should not give up.
I may no longer be able to believe in everything as innocently as I did 30 years ago.
Still, perhaps I can allow myself to believe, at least a little, that life can come back.
It was only an old song at karaoke, but somehow it felt as though my younger self had sent me a message across 30 years.
