Music
If, like me, you’re a chronically online sort that’s allowed the YouTube algorithm to do its thing and take you on an intercontinental musical journey over the past few years, there’s a reasonable chance that you’ve been blessed with the sweet, intoxicating sounds of Masayoshi Takanaka’s inimitable brand of jubilant city pop.
For a genre often defined by its glossy production and late-night urban melancholy, Takanaka can always be relied on as an upbeat antidote. His work helped pioneer the soundtrack to Japan’s economic boom, culminating in a mammoth discography that now boasts over fifty albums. For decades, however, his fame was little more than a domestic secret. At one point, he was very much at peace with the idea of calling time. That was, of course, until the algorithm stepped in.
“Around three years ago I noticed a lot of overseas listeners listening to my very early albums on Spotify,” he explains as we meet at London’s Japan House ahead of two sold-out nights at O2 Academy Brixton. His first appearance in over fifty years was originally slated for one night at the much smaller Shepherd’s Bush Empire before overwhelming demand forced a significant upgrade. Having previously performed here in 1975 as a member of the Sadistic Mika Band who opened for Roxy Music, a UK headline show is a very different proposition.
“I couldn’t believe it,” he enthuses, leaning back with a look of genuine wonder. “I thought I was dreaming. I keep thinking I’ll wake up in my bed in Tokyo and realise none of this was real. It’s unbelievable.”
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At 73, Takanaka looks every bit the cult icon. Effortlessly in his dark blue suit jacket and vibrant Hawaiian shirt combo, he is enigmatic, yet warmly approachable. It’s easy to see why a generation of Western listeners – most of whom weren’t even born during his 1980s heyday – have claimed him as their own.
“I’ve been doing this for fifty years, so to see an explosive popularity around the world at this stage of my life when it is more than halfway finished is something that is really hard to wrap my head around.”
It isn’t just Takanaka either. The guitarist has become a vanguard for a much wider movement, with many of his contemporaries, such as Japanese pop singers Anri and Taeko Onuki, following suit too, often requesting the same venues he played in America.
“I don’t have a lot of musician friends,” he laughs. “But I did have a call with Anri recently. She told me her music was getting incredibly popular abroad too. After we spoke, she talked to her manager and now she’s playing shows in LA and New York. I suppose I started the ball rolling.”
It’s virtually impossible to discuss Takanaka’s legacy without addressing a proverbial musical elephant in the room – in his case a literal, functional guitar shaped like a bright red surfboard. The eye-popping instrument has become a focal point of his newfound fandom and a totem, of sorts, for the whole city pop aesthetic. However, in March 2026 he revealed to The Guardian that he had actually given it away prior to touring.
“I had been using that surfboard guitar my whole career and, to be honest, I’d started to get a bit bored of it,” he admits. “I was living in Karuizawa, a mountainous region of Japan, and I frequented a local bar. The owner was a surfer and he asked me for the guitar. I thought, ‘Well, nobody wants this, I’m not using it anymore.’”
Takanaka gave it away on one condition – if he ever needed it back, the bar owner would return it.
“I honestly thought that day would never come. Then this world tour happened. I had to go back to him and basically beg for the guitar back.”
Takanaka’s iconic instrument wasn’t met with an enthusiastic reaction by everyone, however. He recalls the first time he presented the design to his Sadistic Mika Band bandmate, Kazuhiko Kato.
“Kato-san was a very fashionable person,” he recalls. “He dressed well, he cooked well, he was the kind of man who came to London specifically to buy the first Rolls Royce for himself. This guitar was not to his taste. He thought it was eye-catching, but also kind of… dumb.”
Takanaka grins.
“I actually liked it for that exact reason,” he recalls. “But I only play it for one or two songs a night now. It weighs seven kilograms. My other guitars are half that. Holding seven kilograms for a two-hour show? It’s impossible.”
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Takanaka’s 1980s stage presence, defined by flamboyant costumes, masks and a surreal sense of humour – particularly when touring his 1981 prog rock-inspired opus The Rainbow Goblins – is a frequent talking point among online city pop communities.
“The costumes were heavily influenced by the UK glam rock scene,” he explains. “I saw people wearing these London boots with high heels and flamboyant clothes and I thought it looked like so much fun. I wanted that for my own stage.”
It wasn’t always easy being a glam icon in Tokyo, however.
“There was a shop in Japan that sold cheap copies of London boots for about 10,000 yen, but they would break so easily. It’s very hard to walk properly when a ten-centimetre heel snaps off mid-performance.”
Takanaka’s sense of playfulness extends to his iconic album covers too. For the legendary compilation All of Me, which depicts Takanaka skydiving while giving a gleeful thumbs-up, it transpires that he wasn’t really hurtling through the skies in an aerial shoot.
“That was inspired by the Black Ship album cover we did with Sadistic Mika Band, where they lay on the ground and the camera shot down from a ladder,” he elaborates. “For the skydive, I just put a wooden box on the floor, lay on my belly and when the cameraman gave the go-ahead, I’d pose like I was falling. It was all staged, but it captured the spirit.”
For 1977’s self-titled ‘Takanaka’, which depicts him in his now iconic red suit jumping while holding a guitar, he took inspiration from Chuck Berry.
“The cameraman kind of said that would be a fun thing to try,” he notes. “All I remember is how hard jumping in the air is.”
Released the same year, the imagery for his third album, An Insatiable High, depicts Takanaka running along a barren road in LA near Death Valley. The yellow vinyl signage is identical to that used in Japan at the time and actually can be read as Takanaka’s name.
“One section means high-speed and another is for mid-speed, but combined together it reads as my name,” he explains. “I didn’t know that at the time. I thought my name was just on the road and I got very self-conscious about it. But I thought it was a funny thing, so we brought it with us from Japan, pasted it on the road in LA and took the picture.”
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Perhaps one of the most fascinating aspects of Takanaka’s western revival is his unintentional influence on the world of video games. Fans have noted the DNA of his guitar work present in recent Mario Kart soundtracks, while Out Run composer Hiroshi Kawaguchi has previously cited Takanaka as an influence on his work.
“I had no idea,” he states joyfully. “But it makes me very happy because I used to be an avid Mario Kart fan. I think I spent more time playing the popping balloons game than doing my actual day job. Usually, guitarists get calluses on their fingers, but I played so much Mario Kart I grew calluses on my thumbs.”
A lifelong gamer, Takanaka cites the Dragon Quest series as a particular favourite.
“I remember everything from the first five of those games,” he states enthusiastically. “I always joke that my dream is to go senile one day so I can forget the games entirely and experience them freshly all over again.”
Takanaka’s connection to a new generation of listeners and musicians extends to his appearance headlining the inaugural City Pop Waves festival at Crystal Palace Bowl this August. There he will be joined by American indie soul musician Ginger Root.
“Whenever I hear that I’ve influenced young artists, I get this tickly sensation,” he says. “I genuinely didn’t know I had that much influence outside of Japan. I met Ginger Root in LA and he’s just a genuinely fun young guy. He told me that someone in New York had referred to me as ‘Taka-fucka-naka.’ I thought it was rude at the time, Ginger said, ‘No, that’s funny, use it on stage!’ So I did in LA. I don’t know if the joke landed, but I did it.”
City Pop Waves will also see him joined by jazz pianist Himiko Kikuchi, who will perform her seminal jazz fusion classic Flying Beagle in full, as well as singer and songwriter Junko Yagami, best known to western listeners for her 80s anthem, Bay City – a regular staple in city pop playlists.
Returning to London over fifty years after supporting Roxy Music feels like a full-circle moment, though Takanaka confesses that he remembers the British countryside from his first visit more than the city.
“I remember the green of the UK,” he states. “It felt so elegant, so classic. I’m not saying the Japanese countryside is classless, but I thought it was really elegant.”
While the lush, green landscapes of 1970s Britain remain etched in his mind, his memories of London’s urban offerings are perhaps slightly more seasoned.
“In the 70s, people used to tell me that Indian restaurants were about the only good thing to eat in the country,” he laughs. “But I’m excited, because I’ve heard that London now has many good cuisines, so I’m excited to taste all of that. There’s a lot to choose from.”
As our time together draws to a close and Takanaka prepares to greet his fans in Brixton, many of whom have travelled from far and wide to be there, I ask if this feels like a victory lap, of sorts. He pauses briefly.
“I still feel like I might wake up in my bed in Tokyo at any moment,” he notes again. “But to know I’ve got 10,000 people coming to see me this summer, it’s a beautiful thing to have to look forward to.”
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Words: Paul Weedon
Photography: Jamie MacMillan
Takanaka headlines City Pop Waves at Crystal Palace Bowl on Friday, August 7th. Other shows in the ‘Palace Shows presents’ series include headline appearances from Grace Jones, Gary Numan, Tom Jones and more.
More information here.
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