“Quiet Life” by Japan

A review of the 1979 art rock album “Quiet Life” by Japan

By: Evan Ferstl

In 1978, a five-piece outfit called Japan surfaced in the UK music scene with a pair of glam rock inspired albums lacking in both spirit and identity. Perhaps sensing that they could accomplish much more with a stylistic shift, the band released “Quiet Life” a year later as a sharp departure from the uninspired drivel they built their early career on. 

In contrast to their earlier work, “Quiet Life” is largely slow-tempoed and brooding, with singer David Sylvian settling into the role of moody crooner that would become a hallmark of the band’s sound. Sylvian also has no problem taking a backseat, letting the atmosphere cover the album like a thick storm cloud. A perfect example can be found with “Despair,” a six minute minimalist experience only briefly interrupted with an agonizingly beautiful verse sung in French. Elsewhere, the band seamlessly adapts the Velvet Underground’s classic “All Tomorrow’s Parties,” picks up the pace with the frantic “Halloween,” and falls headlong into futile yearning with “The Other Side of Life.” Though “Quiet Life” is one of those albums where every song carries its weight, the standout is probably the acrid “Fall in Love With Me,” with a close second being “Alien,” where Sylvian comes alive with pain at the final refrain of the chorus. The whole experience is relentlessly meditative, exploring vast pockets of hollowness and emptiness by way of ambiguous lyrics and relentlessly dark textures. 

With all of that said, sometimes the atmosphere building is too much, like when a good song refuses to end two or three minutes after it should have. Otherwise, this album is haunting and majestic, signifying the height of Japan’s career and perhaps the single best album of the late 70s.