B'z: The Life Story Behind Japan's Rock Legends

B’z are the biggest rock act in Japanese history, and they did it as a duo. That is the first thing to understand about them. Most rock bands have four or five members, with a singer, two guitarists, a bassist and a drummer, all sharing the work. B’z have two: Koshi Inaba, who sings and writes the words, and Tak Matsumoto, who plays guitar and writes the music. Together they have sold more records in Japan than any other artist, they have had more number-one singles than any other act, and they have filled stadiums for more than thirty-five years. Their story is about two very different men who found each other, and who built something that neither could have built alone.

Inaba is a singer with a powerful, high voice, who can sing a soft ballad and a loud rock song with the same control. Matsumoto is a guitarist with a precise, melodic style, who can play a fast solo and a gentle riff with the same skill. They met in Tokyo in the late 1980s, when Matsumoto was looking for a singer for a new project, and Inaba answered an advertisement. That meeting, which could easily have been forgotten, became the start of the best-selling act in Japan. It is a reminder that a career can begin with a simple reply to a simple ad.

What makes B’z last is not only the sales. It is the sound. Their songs are rock, but they are also pop, with big choruses, strong melodies, and lyrics that people remember. They have written songs for television, for films, for sports, and for everyday life, and their music is heard everywhere in Japan. When a B’z song plays in a stadium, the whole crowd sings along, and that shared singing is the sound of their success.

A Guitarist Looks for a Singer in 1988

B’z began in Tokyo in 1988, when Tak Matsumoto, a session guitarist who had played with many other artists, decided to form his own band. Matsumoto was already respected in the Japanese music industry for his guitar playing, but he wanted a project of his own, with a singer who could match his music. He placed an advertisement, and Koshi Inaba, a young singer from Okayama, answered it. Inaba had a strong voice, and he had a way with words, and Matsumoto heard something in him that he had not heard in other singers.

The two men were different in many ways. Matsumoto was a musician’s musician, focused on the guitar, on the sound, and on the craft of making a record. Inaba was a singer and a lyricist, focused on the voice, on the words, and on the feeling of a song. Those differences could have caused friction, but instead they became a strength. Matsumoto gave Inaba music that was strong and melodic, and Inaba gave Matsumoto words and a voice that made the music come alive. They worked as a pair, and they learned to trust each other’s judgement.

The band’s name, B’z, is short and simple, and it has become one of the most recognisable names in Japanese music. The early years were a time of learning, and the duo released their first album, B’z, in 1988, and a second album, Off the Lock, in 1989. The early records showed a young duo with a rock sound, but they were not yet the huge act they would become. They were still finding their style, still learning how to write together, and still building an audience through live shows and television appearances.

In those early years B’z played in small venues, and they worked hard to be noticed in a crowded Japanese music scene. They were not an idol group, and they were not a traditional pop act. They were a rock duo, and that was unusual in Japan at the time. They had to prove that two people could make a big rock sound, and that a duo could fill a stage as well as a full band. They did it by playing well, by writing strong songs, and by working with skilled support musicians on tour, who helped them create a full live sound.

Bad Communication and the First Number Ones

The breakthrough came in 1989, with the single Bad Communication, which became a hit in Japan and gave B’z their first taste of major success. The song was a fast, energetic rock track, with a catchy chorus and a strong guitar riff, and it showed the duo at their best. It was followed by other hit singles, and by albums that sold well, and B’z began to climb the Japanese charts. They were no longer a new act. They were a band on the rise, and the audience was starting to notice.

In the early 1990s B’z released a series of number-one singles, one after another, and they set a record for consecutive number-one singles in Japan that stood for many years. Songs such as Taiyo no Komachi Angel, Easy Come Easy Go, and Itoshii Hito yo Good Night became hits, and the band became a fixture of Japanese pop culture. Their music was played on radio, on television, and in shops, and their faces were on magazine covers. They had become stars, and they had done it through the strength of their songs, not through a television show or a fashion trend.

The albums from this period, including Risky, In the Life, and Run, also did very well, and they showed a duo that was growing more confident with each release. Matsumoto’s guitar playing became more distinctive, with a mix of rock, blues and pop, and Inaba’s singing became more powerful, with a range that could handle both soft ballads and loud rock songs. The duo also began to write songs that were used in television dramas and advertisements, which introduced their music to an even wider audience.

By the mid-1990s B’z were the biggest rock act in Japan, and they were playing in arenas and stadiums. Their live shows were a major event, with large crowds, loud music, and a sense of celebration. The duo worked with a band of support musicians on tour, including a drummer, a bassist and a keyboard player, who helped them create a full sound on stage. The shows were carefully planned, but they also had a live energy that made each night feel different.

Love Phantom, Ultra Soul and the Peak Years

In the late 1990s and early 2000s B’z reached a new peak, with songs that became part of everyday life in Japan. Love Phantom, released in 1995, was a dramatic, emotional song that became one of their best-known works. It was used in a television drama, and it was played everywhere, and it showed Inaba at his best as a singer, with a voice that could be both tender and powerful. The song is still played at concerts, and the audience still sing along to every word.

Another key song from this period was Ultra Soul, released in 2001, which was used as the theme for a major sporting event in Japan, and which became an anthem for fans. The song is fast, loud and joyful, with a chorus that is easy to sing, and it is often played at sports stadiums, where the crowd sing it together. Ultra Soul showed a different side of B’z, a side that was about energy, about celebration, and about the feeling of being part of a large crowd. It became one of their most loved songs, and it is still a highlight of their live shows.

The band also released albums such as The 7th Blues, Loose, Survive, and Brotherhood, each of which sold very well and each of which showed the duo trying new ideas. The 7th Blues was a double album, with a mix of rock, blues and ballads, and it showed Matsumoto’s love of blues guitar. Brotherhood, released in 1999, was a harder, more rock-focused album, and it showed the duo returning to their roots. Each album was a statement, and each one was welcomed by fans who had followed the band for years.

During this period B’z also became known outside Japan, performing in the United States and in other countries, and working with musicians from other parts of the world. Matsumoto, in particular, became known as a guitarist in the international rock world, and he was invited to play with other artists, and to be honoured in the United States. The duo were no longer only a Japanese act. They were a rock act with a global reputation, even if their main audience remained in Japan.

Solo Work and a Partnership That Endures

One of the secrets of B’z longevity is that both members have solo careers as well as their work together. Inaba has released solo albums, with songs that are more personal and more experimental than the B’z songs, and he has toured as a solo artist. Matsumoto has released solo albums, with instrumental guitar music, and he has worked with other singers and musicians, including a well-known collaboration with the American guitarist Larry Carlton. These solo projects have given each man a chance to explore ideas that do not fit B’z, and they have made the duo stronger when they come back together.

The solo work also shows the different personalities of the two men. Inaba’s solo songs are often quieter, more reflective, and more focused on words, while Matsumoto’s solo work is focused on the guitar, on melody, and on the sound of the instrument itself. Together, in B’z, those two sides combine into a sound that is both melodic and powerful, both thoughtful and energetic. The duo works because the two men are different, and because they respect those differences.

B’z have also been careful about their public image. They do not appear in gossip magazines, they do not make a show of their private lives, and they focus on the music. Inaba and Matsumoto are private people, and they have kept their personal lives out of the public eye. That privacy has helped them keep a long career without the kind of public drama that ends many acts. Fans respect them for it, and they focus on the songs, not on the personalities.

In recent years B’z have continued to release albums, including New Love in 2019 and Highway X in 2022, and they have continued to tour in large venues in Japan. They have marked anniversaries, including their 30th anniversary in 2018, with special concerts and releases, and they have shown that they are still a major force in Japanese music. They have also performed with other artists, and they have been honoured for their contribution to music in Japan and abroad.

Why Two People Could Sell More Than Anyone

B’z have sold more records in Japan than any other artist, and that is a remarkable achievement for a duo. It is also a sign of how much their music means to people in Japan. Their songs are played at weddings, at graduations, at sports events, and in everyday life, and they have become part of the soundtrack of Japan itself. That is not something that happens by accident. It happens because the songs are strong, because the performances are strong, and because the duo have kept working for more than thirty-five years.

The live show is a key part of their success. A B’z concert is a large, loud, joyful event, with thousands of fans singing along, and with Inaba and Matsumoto at the centre, leading the crowd. The duo work with a band of support musicians, but the focus is always on the two of them, on Inaba’s voice and Matsumoto’s guitar. That focus makes the show feel personal, even in a stadium, and it makes the audience feel close to the duo, even when they are far away.

Today B’z are legends in Japan, and they are respected around the world as a rock duo who did something that no one else had done. They built a career on two people, on a voice and a guitar, and they made that career last for decades. Their story is a reminder that a band does not need to be large to be powerful, and that two people who trust each other can achieve more than a large group that does not.

New Love, Highway X and the Later Years

New Love, released in 2019, was an album that showed B’z still writing, still recording, and still finding new ideas after more than thirty years together. The album included songs that were both hard and melodic, with Matsumoto’s guitar and Inaba’s voice working together in a way that was familiar and fresh at the same time. The band toured the album in Japan, playing in large venues, and the shows were a celebration of their long career, with fans of all ages singing along to both old and new songs. New Love proved that B’z were not a band of the past. They were still a living band, with new music to share.

Highway X, released in 2022, continued that story, with a title that suggested travel, movement, and the open road, and with songs that were about moving forward, about not stopping, and about the joy of playing music together. The album was well received, and it showed that the duo were still curious, still trying new sounds, and still willing to work hard, even after decades at the top. They had nothing left to prove, in terms of sales or fame, but they kept working, because they loved the work, and because they wanted to keep making music for their fans.

The later years have also included anniversary celebrations, including their 30th anniversary in 2018, with special concerts, with releases that looked back at their career, and with a sense of gratitude for the audience that has stayed with them for so long. The anniversary was a moment to celebrate, but it was also a moment to look forward, to the next album, the next tour, and the next song. B’z have always looked forward, even when they were celebrating the past, and that forward look is part of why they have lasted so long.

B’z Live, the Stadium Sound and the Fans

A B’z concert is one of the biggest live events in Japan, with tens of thousands of fans in a stadium, singing along to every song, cheering for Inaba’s voice, and for Matsumoto’s guitar. The shows are carefully planned, with large stages, with lights, with screens, and with a band of support musicians who help the duo create a full, powerful sound. The concerts are long, with many songs, with old hits and new songs, and with a feeling of celebration that makes the audience feel part of something special. A B’z concert is not a casual night out. It is an event, and fans plan for it, travel for it, and remember it for a long time.

The stadium sound is a key part of their success. Inaba’s voice is powerful enough to fill a stadium, and Matsumoto’s guitar is melodic enough to be heard clearly, even in a large, open space. The support band, with drums, bass and keyboards, gives the duo a full sound, and the whole show is designed to make a large crowd feel close to the stage, even when they are far away. That design takes skill, and it takes experience, and B’z have learned it over decades of playing in stadiums, arenas and domes across Japan.

The fans are also a key part of the story. B’z fans are loyal, passionate, and knowledgeable, and they know the songs, they know the albums, and they know the history of the duo. They come to concerts with friends, with family, and with a sense of shared history, because they have followed B’z for years, sometimes for decades, and the band’s music is part of their lives. That shared history makes a B’z concert feel like a reunion, every time, with the audience and the band celebrating together, the music they have made, and the life they have shared through that music.

Tak Matsumoto, the Grammy and the Guitar Behind B’z

Before B’z existed, Tak Matsumoto was already a working guitarist, and his story explains a lot about the band’s sound. He was born in Toyonaka, in Osaka, and he learned the guitar by listening to rock and blues records, practising until he could play the fast, clean lines that those records demanded. As a young man he worked as a session musician, playing guitar for other artists, and he supported the popular group TM Network on tour, which taught him how a large, professional show is put together. A session player learns to listen, to fit in, and to serve the song, and Matsumoto carried that discipline into B’z. He is not a guitarist who plays only to show off. He plays to make the song better, and that is why his solos feel like part of the song rather than a break from it.

In 1988 Matsumoto was looking for a singer for a new project, and he found Koshi Inaba, a young man from Tsuyama in Okayama who had a strong, clear voice and a gift for writing words. The two men were different in many ways. Matsumoto was a quiet, careful musician who had spent years learning his craft, and Inaba was a singer with a powerful voice and a direct way of writing about love, loss and hope. But the difference worked. Matsumoto wrote the music, Inaba wrote the words and sang them, and neither man tried to do the other’s job. That clear split has lasted for more than thirty-five years, and it is one of the reasons the partnership has survived. Each man respects what the other does, and each man knows that the band is better because there are two of them, not one.

Matsumoto’s skill has also been recognised outside Japan. In 2010 he made an album called Take Your Pick with the American guitarist Larry Carlton, a musician known for his smooth, jazz-influenced playing, and the album won a Grammy Award in 2011 for Best Pop Instrumental Album. It was a remarkable honour for a Japanese rock guitarist, and it showed the world what Japanese fans had known for years, that Matsumoto could stand beside the best guitarists anywhere and hold his own. He has also made solo albums of his own, and Inaba has made solo albums too, and those projects have let each man try ideas that would not fit inside B’z. But both men have always come back to the duo, because B’z is where their work matters most, and where their audience is waiting.

The guitar sound of B’z is built on that history. It is a blues-rock sound, with strong riffs, clear melodies, and solos that are fast without being messy, and it has stayed recognisable from the first singles to the latest albums. Matsumoto does not chase every new fashion in guitar playing, and he does not need to, because his sound is already his own. When a fan hears the opening notes of a B’z song, they know who is playing, and that recognition is worth more than any single award. It is the sound of a man who learned his craft slowly, who worked as a session player before he was a star, and who has kept practising, kept learning, and kept playing, for more than four decades. That is a long time to hold a guitar, and Matsumoto has held it well.

It is worth remembering, too, that B’z have sold more records in Japan than any other artist, with sales reported at more than eighty million, and that almost all of those sales were made by two people. There was no large band to share the work, no changing line-up to refresh the sound, and no long break to build up demand. There were two men, writing songs, recording them, and playing them live, year after year. That fact still surprises people when they first hear it, because it seems impossible for two people to do so much. But the record books say they did, and the fans who have followed them for decades say the same, and the guitar at the centre of it all belongs to Tak Matsumoto, a session player from Osaka who found a singer, and who never stopped playing.

The 7th Blues, Brotherhood and the Albums That Defined a Sound

The 7th Blues, released in 1994, was a double album, a bold move for a duo, with a mix of rock, blues, and ballads, and with songs that showed Matsumoto’s love of blues guitar, and Inaba’s ability to sing both a hard rock song and a soft, emotional ballad, in the same record. The album was long, ambitious, and varied, and it proved that B’z were not only a singles band, but an album band, who could make a full record, with a beginning, a middle, and an end, and with songs that worked together, as a collection. The 7th Blues was a statement, that B’z were serious musicians, with a range, with a vision, and with a willingness to take risks, even when they were already successful.

Brotherhood, released in 1999, was a harder, more rock-focused album, with a return to the loud guitars, the fast drums, and the energy of their early years, and it showed the duo at their most powerful, as a rock act, with songs that were built for a stadium, for a large audience, and for a loud, joyful concert. Brotherhood was welcomed by fans who had missed the rock side of B’z, and it proved that the duo could still play hard, still sing loudly, and still fill a stadium, even after more than ten years together, and even after many hit singles, many albums, and many tours. The album was a reminder that B’z were, first and foremost, a rock band, and that their rock sound was still strong, still fresh, and still exciting.

Loose, Survive, and other albums from the 1990s and 2000s also showed the duo trying new ideas, with songs that mixed rock, pop, blues, and ballads, and with a sound that was always recognisably B’z, always built on Inaba’s voice and Matsumoto’s guitar, but always trying something new, always looking for a new melody, a new riff, a new lyric, and a new way to express a feeling. Those albums are still listened to, still loved, and still discussed, by fans who remember when they first heard them, and by new fans who discover them, through streaming, through recommendations, and through the band’s concerts, where old songs are played alongside new ones, with the same care, the same energy, and the same honesty, as when they were first written.

The albums are important because they show that B’z were not only a singles act, but a band that could make a full record, that could tell a story across an album, and that could keep an audience listening, from the first song to the last. That is a hard thing to do, and it is why B’z are respected, not only as a hit-making duo, but as musicians, who care about the album as a form, who care about the order of songs, and who care about making a record that is worth listening to, again and again, for many years.

My Take:

I think B’z are a lesson in how much two people can do when they trust each other completely. A duo is a fragile thing. If one person leaves, the whole thing ends. If one person stops caring, the whole thing falls apart. B’z have been a duo since 1988, and they are still going, still selling out stadiums, still releasing albums, and that tells me that Koshi Inaba and Tak Matsumoto have a partnership that is deeper than music. It is a friendship, a working relationship, and a shared belief in what they are doing, all at once. I admire that, because I have seen many partnerships fall apart over much less.

What I find most impressive is the sheer scale of their success. They have sold more records in Japan than any other artist, and they have had more number-one singles than anyone else, and those numbers are not just numbers. They mean that millions of people, across generations, have bought a B’z record, have sung a B’z song, have gone to a B’z concert, and have kept that music in their lives. I think about what that means, to be the soundtrack of a whole country, and it feels like a huge responsibility, as well as a huge achievement. B’z have carried that responsibility quietly, without boasting, and that quietness makes me respect them more.

Ultra Soul is the song that stays with me, because it is a song about joy, about energy, about the feeling of being in a crowd and singing together. I have heard it at sports events, and I have felt the way a whole stadium can come alive when that chorus starts. It is not a complicated song, and it is not a deep song in the way that some of their ballads are deep, but it does something that few songs can do: it makes a large group of strangers feel like they are together, like they are part of one thing. That is a powerful gift, and I think it is one of the reasons B’z are so loved. They can make a stadium feel like a small room, and a small room feel like a stadium.

Love Phantom is a different kind of song, and it shows me the other side of Inaba. His voice on that song is dramatic, emotional and controlled, and it carries a feeling of longing that is hard to describe in words. I think Inaba is one of the great singers of Japan, not because his voice is perfect, but because it is expressive. He can sing softly, and he can sing loudly, and he can make the listener feel the difference. Matsumoto’s guitar is the same. He does not play to show off, although he could. He plays to serve the song, and that service is what makes the music so strong. Together, they are a perfect pair, because neither tries to outshine the other. They work together, and the song is better for it.

I also think about their solo work, because it tells me something about how they have lasted so long. Inaba makes solo albums that are more personal, Matsumoto makes solo albums that are more focused on the guitar, and then they come back to B’z with new ideas. That is a healthy way to work. It means they do not get bored, and they do not get trapped in one sound. They have space to explore, and then they bring what they have learned back to the duo. I think many long partnerships fail because the people in them do not have that space. B’z have found a way to have both: a duo that lasts, and solo work that keeps each man fresh. That is a clever solution, and it has worked for more than thirty years.

There is a part of their story that makes me a little sad, and it is the privacy. Inaba and Matsumoto are very private people, and they rarely talk about their personal lives. I understand why, and I respect it, but it also means that the audience does not always know who they are as people, beyond the music. I sometimes wonder what they are like when they are not on stage, what they talk about, what they laugh at, what they worry about. I will probably never know, and that is fine, because the music is enough. But I do feel a small distance, a sense that B’z are stars on a stage, not friends in a room, and that distance is the cost of their privacy. It is a cost they have chosen to pay, and I think it has been worth it for their longevity, but it is still a cost.

I do not think B’z are a perfect act, and I think their very success can make them feel too polished at times. Their albums are well made, their concerts are well planned, and their songs are well written, but sometimes I miss a little roughness, a little surprise, a little risk. I understand that a band that has sold as much as B’z cannot afford to take wild risks, because millions of people are counting on them to be B’z, but I still hope they keep trying new ideas, as they did with their later albums. A band that stops trying new things stops growing, and I do not want B’z to stop growing, even after thirty-five years.

If a young musician asked me what to learn from B’z, I would say this: find one person you can trust completely, and build something with them. Do not try to do everything on your own, and do not try to be in a large group where nobody is really listening to each other. Find a partner, learn how they work, respect their differences, and give each other space to grow. Write songs that people can sing, and play them well, night after night, year after year. That sounds simple, but it is very hard to do for decades, and that is why B’z are legends. They did the simple thing, and they did it better than anyone else, for longer than anyone else.

In the end, I think B’z have taught me that size does not matter, and that a duo can be bigger than a band of ten, if the two people are right for each other. They have also taught me that success is not about being loud or fashionable. It is about being consistent, about being honest, and about caring for the audience, year after year. I will keep listening to them, and I think Japan will keep listening to them, because their songs are part of the country now, and they will be for a long time.

I also think about their live shows, and about what it must be like to stand in a stadium, with tens of thousands of people singing your songs, and to feel that shared energy, that shared joy, that shared history. That must be a powerful feeling, and I think Inaba and Matsumoto feel it, even after thirty-five years, because they still tour, they still play, and they still give their best, night after night. A band that has played in stadiums for decades could easily become bored, or cynical, or tired, but B’z do not seem bored. They seem grateful, and they seem to enjoy the work, and that enjoyment is visible in their performances, in their energy, and in their connection with the audience.

I think about New Love and Highway X, and about the way they show a duo that is still curious, still trying, and still moving forward, even when they have nothing left to prove. It would have been easy to stop, to retire, to live off the old hits, and to play only the songs that everyone knows, but B’z did not stop. They kept writing, kept recording, and kept touring, because they love music, and because they want to keep making it, for themselves and for their fans. That is a sign of a real musician, not only a star, and I respect it deeply. A star can retire. A musician keeps playing, because the music is part of who they are.

I wonder what it must be like to be in a duo for thirty-five years, to have worked with the same person, day after day, year after year, and to still trust each other, still respect each other, and still enjoy working together. That is a rare partnership, and it is one that few people experience, in music or in any other field. Inaba and Matsumoto have found a way to do it, by giving each other space, by doing solo work, by trusting each other’s judgement, and by putting the song first, not the ego. That is a lesson for any partnership, and it is one I will remember, because it shows that a long partnership is possible, if both people are willing to work at it, and to respect each other.

I also think about the fans, and about the way they have stayed with B’z for decades, through changes in music, through changes in Japan, and through changes in their own lives. A fan who first heard Bad Communication as a teenager is now an adult, with a job, a family, and a life, and they still go to B’z concerts, still sing along, and still feel the same joy they felt as a teenager. That is a powerful thing, and it is a sign that B’z music is not only for a moment. It is for a lifetime, and it grows with the listener, just as the band have grown with their audience.

In the end, I come back to the simple fact that two people, a singer and a guitarist, sold more records in Japan than anyone else, and did it by writing good songs, by playing them well, and by staying together for thirty-five years. That is a remarkable achievement, and it is one that I will remember, not only because of the numbers, but because of what the numbers mean: millions of people, across generations, who have found something in B’z music, something that helped them, something that made them happy, something that made them feel less alone. That is the real success of B’z, and it is why their story matters to me.

What strikes me most about B’z is how little drama there is in their story, and how much work there is instead. Most bands with a career this long have a famous breakup, a bitter court case, or a period when the members could not stand to be in the same room. B’z have none of that, at least not in public. They have two men who met, who liked each other’s work, who divided the jobs fairly, and who kept going. That sounds dull, and I know it sounds dull, but I think it is the most impressive part of their story. Drama is easy. Staying together, doing the work, and treating your partner with respect for thirty-five years is hard, and it is a skill that most people never learn, in music or in any other part of life.

I also think about what it means to be a duo in a world of large bands. A band of five or six people can hide a weak member, can change its sound by changing a player, and can survive one person leaving. A duo cannot hide. If one man is tired, the other man feels it at once. If one man wants to stop, the band stops. That closeness can break a partnership, but in B’z it has made the partnership stronger, because each man knows how much he needs the other. Matsumoto needs Inaba’s voice to carry his music, and Inaba needs Matsumoto’s songs to give his voice something to sing. I have seen marriages that work the same way, and friendships that work the same way, and I think the lesson is the same. Find the person whose strength fits your weakness, and then protect that partnership, because it is rarer than talent.

The numbers attached to B’z are so large that they can hide the human part of the story, and I do not want that to happen here. Eighty million records is a number, and it is a true one, but it does not tell you about the fan who heard a B’z song on the radio on the way to work, or the couple who chose a B’z ballad for their wedding, or the young guitarist who picked up a guitar because he heard Tak Matsumoto play. Those small stories are the real sales figures, and they are the ones I remember. A record sale is a moment. A song that stays with a person for twenty years is a life, and B’z have given that gift to millions of people, one song at a time.

In the end, what I take from B’z is a simple idea about work. You do not need to be the loudest, or the most shocking, or the most fashionable. You need to be good, you need to be honest, and you need to keep going, even when the fashion changes and the audience grows older with you. Matsumoto and Inaba have done that, and they are still doing it, and I think they will be doing it for as long as they are able. I will be listening, not because I am waiting for a new record, but because their story reminds me that a partnership built on respect can last a lifetime, and that is a hopeful thing to believe.

I also think about The 7th Blues and Brotherhood, and about the way they show two different sides of B’z, one as a blues-influenced, ambitious double album, and one as a hard, powerful rock record, and both are convincing, both are strong, and both are them. That range is rare, and it is why I think B’z are great musicians, because they can play blues, rock, pop, and ballads, and make each one sound like B’z, with Inaba’s voice and Matsumoto’s guitar at the centre, and with a feeling that is both familiar and fresh. I like that they took risks, that they made a double album, that they returned to hard rock, and that they did not stay safe, because a band that stays safe stops growing, and B’z have kept growing, for more than thirty-five years, by taking risks, by trying new ideas, and by trusting their audience to follow them.

I think about the albums, and about what it means to make a full record, not only a single, to tell a story across ten or twelve songs, to order them carefully, and to make a listener want to hear the whole thing, from start to finish, again and again. That is a hard thing to do, in a world of streaming, where people listen to one song at a time, and where albums are often forgotten, but B’z have made albums that are worth listening to as a whole, because the songs work together, because they tell a story, and because they show a duo at a specific moment in their career, with a specific feeling, a specific sound, and a specific vision. That is a valuable thing, and it is why I will keep listening to their albums, not only their singles, because the albums tell a deeper story, about who B’z were, at that time, and who they are now.

I wonder what it must be like to be Matsumoto, to be a guitarist who is respected around the world, who has played with other great musicians, and who has built a sound that is instantly recognisable, with a few notes, and to still be curious, still trying new riffs, new sounds, and new ideas, after thirty-five years. That must be a joyful thing, to still love the guitar, to still want to play it, and to still find new things to say with it, even after so many albums, so many tours, and so many songs. I respect that curiosity, because it is what keeps a musician alive, and it is what keeps B’z alive, as a duo, as a band, and as a sound that is still fresh, still powerful, and still loved.

I also think about Inaba’s voice, and about how it has grown, from a young singer in 1988, to a mature singer in 2022, with a voice that is stronger, deeper, and more controlled, and that carries the weight of the songs he sings, with a feeling that comes from having lived through them. That growth is a result of years of singing, of touring, of recording, and of learning how to use his voice, how to protect it, and how to make it stronger, and it is a sign of a professional, a singer who takes his craft seriously, and who wants to be better, year after year. I respect that, because a voice is a fragile thing, and to keep it strong for thirty-five years, through touring, through recording, and through the pressure of fame, is a remarkable achievement, and one that few singers manage.

In the end, I come back to the duo, to two people, a singer and a guitarist, who found each other through an advertisement, who built a career together, and who sold more records in Japan than anyone else, by writing good songs, by playing them well, and by staying together for thirty-five years. That is a remarkable achievement, and it is one that I will remember, not only because of the numbers, but because of what the numbers mean: millions of people, across generations, who have found something in B’z music, something that helped them, something that made them happy, and something that made them feel less alone. That is the real success of B’z, and it is why their story matters to me, and to Japan, and to anyone who loves rock music, played well, by two people who trust each other completely.

Frequently Asked Questions

How did B’z form in 1988?

B’z formed in Tokyo in 1988, when the guitarist Tak Matsumoto was looking for a singer for a new project and Koshi Inaba answered his advertisement. Matsumoto was already a respected session guitarist, while Inaba was a young singer from Okayama with a powerful voice. Their meeting became the start of the best-selling act in Japanese history.

What was B’z first major hit?

Bad Communication, released in 1989, was their breakthrough single, giving them their first major success in Japan. It was a fast, energetic rock song with a strong guitar riff and a catchy chorus. After that, B’z released a series of number-one singles in the early 1990s and set a record for consecutive chart-toppers.

What are B’z best-known songs?

Their best-known songs include Bad Communication, Love Phantom from 1995, and Ultra Soul from 2001, which became a sports anthem in Japan. Love Phantom is a dramatic ballad often played at concerts, while Ultra Soul is a loud, joyful song sung by whole stadiums. Each shows a different side of the duo’s sound.

Do the members of B’z also work solo?

Yes, both members have solo careers alongside B’z, with Inaba releasing solo albums that are more personal and Matsumoto releasing instrumental guitar albums and collaborations. Their solo work gives each man space to explore ideas that do not fit B’z, and it has helped the duo stay fresh. They return to B’z with new ideas from those projects.

How many records have B’z sold in Japan?

B’z are reported to be the best-selling music act in Japanese history, with more records sold in Japan than any other artist, and a long run of number-one singles and albums. Their exact sales figures are often discussed in Japanese media, but their place at the top is widely recognised. Their success has lasted for more than thirty-five years.

Are B’z still performing today?

Yes, B’z are still active, and they have continued to release albums, including New Love in 2019 and Highway X in 2022, and to tour in large venues in Japan. They marked their 30th anniversary in 2018 with special concerts and releases. They remain one of the biggest live acts in the country.