Shoka

"Shoka" (Early Summer) is a profoundly personal and introspective piece that stands as a memorial to Ado's own teenage years. Unlike many of her previous hits which were written by other producers, this song explores her internal psyche with unfiltered honesty. The core meaning revolves around the pain of adolescence, specifically the disconnect between the external world's expectations (success, happiness) and the internal reality of emptiness, self-loathing, and suicidal ideation.

The lyrics dissect the futility of hope and the betrayal of expectations. The narrator grapples with the realization that the "words they loved" (perhaps the artistic expression or promises of adulthood) have been broken. The recurring theme of "being rewarded" suggests a transaction with life—that if one suffers enough or works hard enough, happiness is owed. The song brutally deconstructs this, concluding that the "voice" Ado has built—her identity as a singer—might be the "incorrect answer" for this world, highlighting a fierce imposter syndrome and a feeling of alienation despite her massive success.

Furthermore, the song serves as a critique of toxic positivity. When she questions if she is hurting herself to get a reward or mocking the phrase "You can be happy," she is rejecting the hollow comforts often offered to depressed youth. The transition from "I want to die" to "Won't you kill me?" marks a shift from passive despair to a desperate desire for an external force to end the suffering, emphasizing a total loss of agency. Ultimately, the song is not about finding a solution; it is an act of radical acceptance of one's own brokenness, acknowledging that even if the future she dreamed of is gone, she has no choice but to continue breathing and screaming (singing) in the void.

The song opens with a crushing admission of futility, where the narrator acknowledges that clinging to the mantra of "I want to die" holds no actual meaning, yet they remain trapped in the sentiment. They confess a deep ignorance about the impermanence of the world, realizing too late that everything with form must eventually come to an end. In a state of what feels like drunken wretchedness, the narrator pours out messy, chaotic lyrics, recognizing that there are countless lives in this world that simply cannot be saved, no matter the effort.

As the narrative progresses, the singer questions their own self-destructive tendencies. They ask if hurting themselves repeatedly is a twisted way of seeking some kind of reward or payoff, mocking the empty platitudes of others who say, "You can be happy!" The breeze of early summer arrives not as a comfort, but as an intoxicant that makes them sing about their own conceited ego. Lacking any "correct" answers to life's struggles, they scream out a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to tell them the truth.

The chorus reveals a profound sense of betrayal by language itself. The words the narrator once cherished have been destroyed, and the naive belief that suffering would eventually be rewarded has shattered. They view their own voice—the very instrument of their career—as an "incorrect answer" to the world, accumulated over time but ultimately wrong. There is a visceral self-loathing directed at their own face, which they perceive as looking ignorant and oblivious. This culminates in a relentless, numerical repetition of their pain: tens, hundreds, thousands of times, the desire to die persists.

In the second verse, the narrator reflects on their own foolishness, comparing their existence to a "miniature garden" filled with stagnant puddles. They engage in repetitive, self-soothing behaviors just to close their emotional wounds, all while imagining a look of disgust on an observer's face. Even if they were to arrange words more beautiful than a pre-dawn dream, they feel they would just be like fireworks in the city—withering away beautifully but ultimately absent from the scene, always realizing too late that the festival is over.

The bridge brings a torrent of repressed emotion, where words that could not be said before now overflow uncontrollably. Yet, the narrator realizes that even if wishes were granted, nothing fundamental would change; promises made are forgotten, and they remain alone. The intensity scales up to cosmic proportions—thousands, millions, billions of times—shifting the plea from "I want to die" to a harrowing request: "Won't you kill me?" They question the nature of justice and ethics, wondering if their hoarse, screaming voice can truly be called "righteousness" if it doesn't lead to kindness. The song concludes with the resignation that the person they loved will not save them, and the future they once dreamed of is already ancient history. Left with nothing but their own ignorance, they have no choice but to stand there and sing, breathing and screaming through the agony millions of times over.

"Shoka" holds a unique and significant place in Ado's discography as it was written and composed by Ado herself. This distinguishes it from her major hits like "Usseewa" or "New Genesis," which were produced by Vocaloid producers. Ado revealed that she originally wrote the song when she was 17 years old, a turbulent period often associated with the completion of high school and the beginning of her explosive career.

The song remained unreleased for several years until it was finally unveiled during her "Mona Lisa" live tour in 2024. Ado described the song not as a message to cheer people up, but as a "memorial" (irei) for her teenage self—a way to lay to rest the dark, chaotic emotions she felt during that time. The arrangement was handled by Ritsuo Mitsui, who helped translate her raw, youthful composition into a polished rock track while retaining its gritty emotional core. It was released digitally on October 14, 2024, coinciding with her birthday month, symbolizing a closing of a chapter.

The song utilizes a mix of rhythmic repetition and chaotic phrasing to mirror the lyrics' themes. The phrase "Shinitai shinitai" (I want to die, I want to die) is delivered in a rapid, staccato rhythm that mimics a panic attack or a racing heartbeat. The verses often follow a looser, more conversational rhythm, almost like a stream of consciousness or a drunk monologue, before tightening up into a driving, anthemic rhythm in the chorus.

There is a strong interplay between the lyrical rhythm and the musical syncopation. For instance, in the bridge, the accumulation of numbers ("Nanzenkai, nanmankai...") builds a rhythmic tension that crescendos into the scream, creating a sense of suffocating pressure that is finally released in the explosive chorus.

Musical Techniques: The song is driven by a gritty, alternative rock arrangement featuring distorted electric guitars and a driving drum beat that mirrors the restlessness of the lyrics. Ado's vocal performance is the centerpiece; she utilizes her signature vocal fry and growls to express anger, but contrasts this with a breathy, fragile falsetto in the verses to convey vulnerability. The melody is complex, with rapid pitch changes that reflect the instability of the narrator's mind.

Literary Techniques: Ado employs hyperbolic numerology ("tens, hundreds, thousands, millions, billions of times") to quantify her suffering, emphasizing that this is not a fleeting feeling but a chronic, overwhelming state. The lyrics also use rhetorical questions ("Is this hoarse voice justice?", "Won't you kill me?") to engage the listener in her existential confusion. The structure is cyclical, returning to the desire for death, reinforcing the feeling of being trapped in a loop.

While a relatively new addition to her discography (released late 2024), "Shoka" has garnered significant attention from the fanbase because it is Ado's first major self-composed release since her debut. It marks a pivotal moment in her career, shifting her image from a "vessel" for other producers' music to a genuine singer-songwriter.

Culturally, the song resonates deeply with Japan's "Toyoko" kids and the broader youth generation grappling with mental health issues, social pressure, and the feeling of having no future. Fans have praised it for stripping away the polished, commercial veneer of J-Pop to reveal the ugly, messy reality of growing up. It cements Ado's status not just as a skilled vocalist, but as a voice for the voiceless and the disillusioned youth.

The title "Shoka" (Early Summer) serves as an ironic juxtaposition. Early summer is traditionally a season of life, growth, and brightness in Japanese culture. However, Ado contrasts this external brightness with internal darkness, suggesting that the "breeze of early summer" is not refreshing but intoxicating and disorienting, highlighting her dissociation from the world.

• The Miniature Garden (Hakoniwa): She describes herself as a "garden with puddles," a metaphor for a contained, artificial world where she feels trapped and small. The "puddles" imply stagnation and accumulated tears rather than flowing water.
• City Fireworks: The image of fireworks that "wither beautifully" represents the ephemeral nature of fame and perhaps her own existence. She notes she is "not there" when they bloom, suggesting a feeling of invisibility or dissociation—she provides the spectacle (the firework) but does not get to experience the joy of the festival (life).
• The Glass Box: While not explicitly in the text, the "Hakoniwa" and the themes of being observed ("I hate that face") evoke the imagery of a specimen in a glass box—preserved, observed, but cut off from genuine connection.

The most dominant motif is the repetition of numerical values increasing in magnitude: "Nanjuukkai" (dozens), "Nanbyaku" (hundreds), "Nanzenkai" (thousands), eventually reaching "Nan'okukai" (billions). This progression illustrates the compounding nature of her despair—it grows heavier and more impossible to ignore with time.

The phrase "Oshiete" (Tell me) and "Kotaete" (Answer me) recurs as a desperate plea for guidance in a world where she feels the "correct answers" are hidden from her. Additionally, the contrast between "Shinitai" (I want to die) and the eventual "Koroshite" (Kill me) marks a crucial thematic shift from internal wish to external plea.