Album Review: 合唱組曲 北九州 by 北九州をうたう会 & 九州交響楽団
Alright, let me just say this straight—合唱組曲 北九州 is one of those albums that sneaks up on you like a quiet breeze and then smacks you right in the feels. It's folk-y, it’s classical, and it’s got this earthy vibe that feels like walking through the hills of Kyushu with your shoes off. The album comes from Japan, self-released under "Not On Label," but don’t let that fool ya. This isn’t some amateur project—it’s crafted by people who clearly love their land deeply.
First off, big props to 栗原一登 for the lyrics and 團伊玖磨 for the music. These two together create something so vivid, you can almost smell the soil and hear the rivers flowing while listening. The whole thing feels like a love letter to North Kyushu, and honestly? I’m here for it.
Now, if I had to pick tracks that stuck with me, I’d go with "V 河童の歌 旧五市の結びを" and "IX 祭り 太鼓祇園." Let me tell ya why.
"河童の歌" (Kappa no Uta) hits different. Like, really different. There’s this playful yet kinda melancholic tone running through it, as though the river spirits themselves are singing about days gone by. You know how sometimes you hear a tune and it feels like nostalgia wrapped in mystery? That’s this track. It doesn’t just sit there; it pulls at something deep inside you. Maybe it’s the way the choir blends with the strings—it’s hauntingly beautiful without being overly dramatic. Feels like peeking into an old folktale where nothing’s spelled out, but everything matters.
And then there’s "祭り 太鼓祇園" (Matsuri Daiko Gion). Oh man, this one’s a punch to the gut—in the best way possible. The drums hit hard, raw, like they’re alive. It’s chaotic but not messy, more like controlled chaos. When the voices join in, it’s electric. I swear, every time I listen, I feel my chest vibrate with the rhythm. It’s not just a song—it’s an experience. Like standing in the middle of a festival crowd, surrounded by firelight and sweat, feeling connected to everyone around you even though you don’t know them. Wild stuff.
The rest of the album flows smoothly between these moments of intensity and calm. Tracks like “風” (Wind) or “梅開く” (Plum Blossoms Bloom) give you room to breathe, while others build up tension until you’re practically holding your breath waiting for what comes next. Even the opening track, “序章,” sets the stage perfectly, like the first brushstroke on a painting you can’t wait to finish.
But here’s the kicker—the whole thing ends with “終章” (Final Chapter), and wow, does it leave you thinking. It’s gentle, almost like a sigh after a long day. And maybe that’s what makes this album special—it doesn’t try too hard to impress. Instead, it invites you in, lets you wander its world, and leaves you with questions rather than answers.
Here’s the unexpected part though: halfway through writing this review, I realized I was humming “河童の歌” while making coffee. Didn’t even notice till my roommate gave me a weird look. Guess that’s how you know music sticks—it finds its way into your everyday life without asking permission.
So yeah, if you’re looking for something that’s equal parts poetic, grounding, and unexpectedly moving, give 合唱組曲 北九州 a spin. Just… maybe not when you’re already feeling sentimental. Trust me on that one.
