Japanese folk experimentalist KASAI returns for his third release on Chinabot with the emoji-titled . Continuing his exuberant exploration of traditional minyo, he incorporates the ancient form into the experience of life and labour in contemporary Japan. “There are many celebratory labour songs in minyo,” says KASAI. “Influenced by these aspects, I created my own minyo.”

Drawing on the events of his daily life,  reflects KASAI’s own work as a care worker, garbage disposal worker, father and hobbyist farmer. His creative methods reflect this humanistic impulse, showcasing the voice as a centrepiece; , written and pronounced as Iori-ten, references the musical notation used where the singer’s part begins in some forms of traditional Japanese music.

His stripped-back rhythms are often characterized by hand clapping on odd-numbered beats, where the influence of gorge and bass music is felt alongside taiko drumming. “Rather than melody, I focus on the rhythm and momentum of the words as they areuttered,” he says. “It is more important about the voicing than singing.” He credits the radio broadcasts of the Riyo Mountains, a DJ duo who research Japanese folk music, for influencing his vocal delivery.

On the album’s final track, ゴモク積み唄, which translates as ‘Piling-up Garbage Song’, KASAI sings about the care and attention the garbage collector pays to his job, over a clanging, workmanlike beat and backup chants from his real-life garbage disposal workmates.

Rhyming “piling up garbage” with “accumulating virtue” in Buddhism, he playfully lauds the sparkling moral cleanliness of the binman. On the video for the song, he’s joined by his workmates as they dance joyfully together. While ironic (“needless to say, we work for wages,” KASAI says), the song and video are also a powerful celebration of the vital physicality and unity of manual labour, which is often rewarded with neither social status nor high pay, leaving the worker to hope for reward in the next life instead.

On , KASAI often pushes against the social forces that keeps this essential work undervalued. Fourth track シン・自由節, or ‘Truly Free Chant’, recruits Tokyo-based artist Clark Naito for an indictment of neoliberalism, touching on everything from market fundamentalism to small government and increasing privatization. A bouncing back-and-forth flow between the two recalls hip-hop as much as minyo.

The following tracks 地団駄 (Throw A Tantrum) and めでたいな (Auspicious) revisits this social critique through the lens of fatherhood. 地団駄 (Throw A Tantrum)’s stomping beat mimics a toddler’s tantrum: “His steps resembled a high-speed dance,” says KASAI, who pays tribute to young children’s passionate resistance, believing adults too can learn from this spirit.

めでたいな (Auspicious) reflects another lesson he has learned from caring for his small child, that of interdependence. “Humans as defined by neoliberalism are calledhomo economicus,” he says. “Homo Economicus is a strange being that seems to have grown out of the rock all by itself, like a mushroom. Homo Economicus is told on the assumption that this being is capable of making rational decisions about everything. The birth and upbringing of my child showed me how ridiculous that assumption is.”

Like many people of the current era, KASAI has lived in different places in his life, mainly in suburbs. He does not see himself rooted in a hyper-local folk culture as a minyo artist would have been a hundred years ago (as he puts it, “I am not a person who embodies the local vibes.”) Yet authentically recenters minyo into its birthplace: the material reality of ordinary life, its timeless hardships and joys, making it a rare look into the life of the contemporary working-class in Japan.

地団駄

荷負い唄

シン・自由節 feat. クラーク内藤

いたわり節

めでたいな

ゴモク積み唄 feat. 地元有志

金は天下のまわりもの

高槻の田植え唄

土踏み唄

じゃんこじゃんこ

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