Photography

Tokyo’s Akihabara district got its Electric Town moniker in the post-war period when handmade radios and their components were sold, often illicitly, on the street. A surprisingly humble start for a place that became the capital’s go-to spot for all things electrical.

Over the following decades the area stayed true to its name, but in the 1980s it began shifting more towards gaming, anime and otaku culture in general. A scene that Akihabara went on to fully, and very successfully embrace, making it forever synonymous with subcultures that have now gone mainstream.

It’s a change that is obvious the moment you leave the station, but at the same time there are still plenty of electronics shops in the area, and even the old-style component side of things hasn’t completely disappeared, meaning it’s still possible to get your hands on whatever obscure, or fiddly little part you could ever wish to find. An element these two previously posted photos — taken in 2018 and 2019 respectively — amply prove. Almost comically small businesses that in so many ways hark back to those very early days of radios, market stalls and a distinctly DIY approach.

Taken before either of those photos, however, is the shot below, which predates the earlier one by 4 years. Long forgotten, it’s an image I found recently when searching for something else, but seeing it again, it somehow seems a lot older. A moment — to my eyes at least — that almost manages to straddle Akihabara’s early days, and the world famous maid cafe anime mecca it has become.

Earlier this year I added an audio track to some photos of a wonderfully atmospheric old drinking alleyway. It was an experiment that definitely gave the images something extra, so having made a few recordings in Niigata’s unique Tsutsuishi station several years ago, I decided to re-edit the photos I’d taken, narrow down the selection and post them below with sounds that are arguably as distinctive as the station itself.

First built in 1912, it was originally above ground, but that all changed when the station underwent substantial changes in 1969. Now it’s 40 metres below the surface, and the only way to access the 2 platforms is by navigating several damp tunnels and 290 steps. A trek that users of Tsutsuishi have to make without any aid whatsoever, as there are no lifts or escalators. That said, it’s not exactly what you’d call a busy transit hub. Even back in 2004 the average number of daily commuters was only 68, but by 2019 it was down to just 15 hardy souls.

Also, despite it being a hot day when we visited, the tunnels and stark waiting areas were decidedly chilly, so what the temperatures must be like during the region’s long, bitterly cold winters really doesn’t bear thinking about. And if that wasn’t enough, the air pressure created by passing trains can cause hurricane-like winds — hence the austere looking metal doors.

Finally, in regards the audio, the first track is a reminder to help other passengers should there be any problems — something that’s especially important with the station being unmanned. The second clip indicates that a train is leaving, and the last, rather unnerving sounds, are to alert passengers when a train is arriving.