George Takahashi Speaks Out: “I Feel Like I’m Living the Lyrics of Road”

An email from my daughter who had been out of touch for 10 years

“I can’t forget the date, March 23. That was the last day I saw my daughter in 2014. On the same day, 10 years later, I happened to look at my smartphone, and there was an email.”

About a year and a half ago, he suddenly received an email from his daughter, with whom he had had no contact for 10 years.

“This year I turn 20. I’m already an adult, so I thought we could talk without being bound by parental authority. If it’s alright with you, Mr. Takahashi.”

“Not ‘Papa,’ but ‘Mr. Takahashi.’ Later, she told me, ‘I didn’t know what to call you’ (laughs).”

The voice of Takahashi George (67), vocalist of “THE Toraburyu,” whose 1993 release “Road” and its series became a massive hit exceeding 3 million copies in total, grew brighter as he spoke.

In 1998, he married talent Mika Mifune (42), who is 24 years younger, and they became known as a happy couple. However, in 2015, it was reported that they were in the middle of divorce litigation, and in 2016, when Takahashi was 57, the divorce was finalized through settlement. Since then, he had lost contact with his daughter, who was still in elementary school at the time.

“Our reunion was in April last year. We had a yakiniku lunch together in Tokyo. At the meeting place, she tapped me on the shoulder and asked, ‘Do you recognize me?’ I said, ‘Of course!’ but honestly, I was thinking, ‘Who is this?’ (laughs). After 10 years, people’s faces really do change.

Then she said, ‘I want to be independent, so I want your help.’ So, I asked, ‘Then why don’t you come to Tokyo and live with me?’ She nodded. That moment was beyond emotional. For 10 years, we never ate breakfast together, never laughed while watching TV. That everyday life had been completely missing.”

The blank years without his daughter felt like being in prison.

“Every year when March 23 came around, I counted: ‘It’s been one year, two years, three years’ I wanted to see her but couldn’t. Those were hellish days.”

After the divorce, he saw his daughter once when she was 14. In the spring of 2019, they met for just two hours in a café in Osaka, with a lawyer present.

“She told me clearly, ‘I don’t think of you as my father.’ At the time, I thought, ‘Someone must be telling her to say that,’ but now I think it was her own way of expressing her feelings as best she could. It’s pathetic, really, that I made my middle-school daughter say such a thing.”

Five years later, as he reunited with his daughter, memories of family, which he had sealed away, resurfaced.

“It was too perfect back then. We appeared together as a couple on variety shows, in commercials, and magazines called us the ideal family. But now I think that was all just a role. When you live with the assumption that someone is always watching, you can’t be natural anymore. We had started acting like a TV family.

In 2011, we even received the ‘Partner of the Year’ award. That was completely scripted. I think I found myself by clinging too much to an image of the perfect couple and to financial success.”

After the divorce was finalized in 2016 and Takahashi found himself alone, separated from his family, he began confronting his roots again. At the center of it, of course, was that song.

“I was really saved by the song ‘Road.’ That one song completely changed my life. Even now, 32 years later, it’s still played on the streets, and during my divorce, it was always on TV (laughs). It’s like my business card. There was a time when I thought, ‘Again?!’ but that just means it has stayed in so many people’s hearts. I even heard it was naturally played in the disaster area during the Great East Japan Earthquake. It reaches people’s emotions, not their logic. That’s the kind of song it is.”

In Tears Over a Gift from His Daughter

“Things that seem like nothing at all” — the lyrics of “Road” brought tears to people all over Japan and are still sung today at karaoke and ceremonies. The returns that “Road” brought amounted to as much as 2.2 billion yen.

“Remember that old article that said I was earning 12 million yen in royalties a year? That was 17 years ago (laughs). It’s nothing like that now. It’s just a little better than a pension. But that’s enough. Back then I was obsessed with how much money I was making, but now I don’t care about that anymore.”

He now lives in the house once reported to be worth 300 million yen. Though neighboring mansions are on a whole different level, his lifestyle has completely changed. Taking the bus, making miso soup in the kitchen — that kind of everyday life feels right to him now.

“Just because the neighbor’s house is worth tens of billions doesn’t make mine shabby. When I realized that, I thought, ‘What was I fighting against?’ I bought a Rolls-Royce, flew first class but if I can laugh with good friends over a 3,000-yen bottle of wine, that’s enough.”

His expression as he spoke was soft, peaceful.

“If someone asked me, ‘What’s a rock ’n’ roller?’ I’d answer, ‘Not leaving anything for tomorrow.’ In other words, living each day to the fullest.”

He has gradually let go of possessions, titles, and past glory.

“Sharing rather than owning, process rather than result. That feels right to me now. I’m not denying success. But the idea that having good or expensive things makes you great that feeling has disappeared from me.”

Now, Takahashi lives again under the same roof with his 20-year-old daughter. In those days together, she once said to him:

“‘Papa, sometimes you hurt people.’ That pierced me, but I was grateful. The old me would’ve blown up, but that time I honestly thought, ‘She’s right.’ Maybe that change is thanks to her.”

Last Father’s Day, his daughter gave him a shaver and a letter.

“‘Let’s make up for the lost 10 years with new memories together’. I cried. It caught me off guard. But I thought, ah, it’s not too late.”

At the end of last year, “THE Toraburyu” restarted after 20 years. This time, they play music not to sell but to enjoy.

“I still have a dream. Just once, I want to perform at the Budokan. Thinking about the journey to get there is fun in itself.”

Finally, he laughed and said:

“It sounds strange, but my life itself is starting to feel like the lyrics of ‘Road.’ Maybe I’ve lived all this time to understand the meaning of those words.”

This August, Takahashi celebrated his 67th birthday. Day by day, he seems to be savoring the happiness in ordinary things and fully enjoying his life.

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