CreepHyp Presents: An Anthem for 30-Something Men (Part 2)

A theme song created by the rock band CreepHyp for men turning 30 —that is "Twenty-Nine, Thirty." It was planned by members of the " THINK30 " project team, which supports men in their thirties. CreepHyp frontman Sekaikan Ozaki and "THINK30" member Kotaro Abe share their thoughts on the song and behind-the-scenes stories of its creation. ( Read Part 1 here )

When what we want to create aligns with what society demands, we feel rewarded

Abe: My favorite part of "Twenty-Nine, Thirty" is the opening lyrics: "Someday, surely, we'll be rewarded / We waited for that someday that never came." Those words really grabbed my heart.
As a copywriter, I think up and write countless words every day for my work. There was a time when my ideas rarely got picked, and I worked while desperately wishing, "I want to be rewarded, I want to be rewarded." That's precisely why I could relate so deeply to these lyrics and found them encouraging.

Ozaki: In "Twenty-Nine, Thirty," I poured my "current self"—engaged in creating music—directly into the lyrics. It's not just about making whatever I want freely; I want to be recognized, deliver results, and be properly rewarded. For me, being acknowledged is what leads to being rewarded.

Abe: I totally get that. As a professional creating something, being recognized by others is essential. Only when "what you want to create" and "what the world is seeking" perfectly align do you truly feel "rewarded."

Ozaki: Looking back now, I realize how easy things were during my indie days when I was just focused on getting started. The more songs I released after going major, the clearer the gap became between "what I want to create" and "what the world wants." But I can't just switch gears and only make what the world demands either. I want to send out into the world what I believe is good, throw it out there, and have everyone else recognize it as good too. Otherwise, it feels meaningless.

Abe: Maybe that's the kind of dilemma our generation—us guys in our thirties—struggles with.

Every guy has that moment when he feels like he could go all out, even if it's embarrassing.

Abe: Another lyric that really resonated with me was the chorus line, "Ah, I feel like I could do something embarrassingly good." I think every ad creator has experienced this at least once. When you're alone late at night working on a proposal, your excitement builds, and you think, "I've got something amazing!" or "This could really work!" – those moments when you overestimate what you've created. Then the next morning, you look back and think, "Nah, it wasn't that great," and get bummed out (laughs). Mr. Ozaki, do you have a lot of lyrics you've scrapped without anyone knowing?

Ozaki: Actually, I hardly ever discard anything. As I mentioned in the first part, lyrics are precious to me—like squeezing an empty tube until just a little bit finally comes out. So I can't afford to waste them. If I think something "might end up being wasted," I simply don't write it in the first place. Once I write it, I make sure to use it properly.
After that, I'm probably the same as Abe-san. I think "This works!" and imagine "What kind of reaction will this get?" I get excited and throw it out to the band members and the world. Since it's a song I believed in and saw through to completion, I have confidence and resolve. Even so, there's still a tiny bit of fear about the reaction. But strangely, I never feel like choosing the option of "not releasing it." I guess I really do want to be rewarded, I think.

Collaborating with creators from other fields helps me see the path forward

Abe: Mr. Ozaki, you interact a lot with creators from other genres, right? Why do you actively seek out connections with people from different fields?

Ozaki: I'm genuinely drawn to people who create compelling or captivating work. Take poet Ikuo Tani, whom I worked with on the magazine 'SHABEL' where I served as editor-in-chief. He always weaves together ordinary yet essential words with such meticulous care. I simply admire him and think, "That's incredible."

Abe: I absolutely love Mr. Tani's poetry too. Especially his poem "Love." The words scattered throughout the final paragraph just... make your heart skip a beat. Seriously, it's unbearably good.

Ozaki: What's even more amazing is that he's such an innocent person himself. He's a bit impatient and mischievous, like a young boy. That gap between him and the poetry he writes is just perfect (laughs).

Abe: How about people your own age? Do you actively seek to engage with them?

Ozaki: Yes. The kind of movement where you bring in creators from different industries to do something new together—I think you can't really do that unless you're in your thirties, or rather, you can only just barely do it because you're in your thirties. I do have this feeling that I want to work with creators from different fields in my generation while I still can.
In that sense, working with you, Abe-san, is also stimulating. The lyrics I write are like junk food packed with thorns and poison, but the words written by advertising creators like you, Abe-san, are like "chicken breast" – stripped of excess yet still nutritious (laughs). They're words crafted through deep thought, the kind that slip into people's hearts without them even realizing it. I'd never approached wordcraft like that before, so it surprised me. It also gave me a kind of conviction: "Well then, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing."

Abe: Hearing you say that makes me happy. We ad people, myself included, also have this desire to create something together with artists like you, Ozaki-san, and we want to leave that kind of legacy.

Ozaki: I just turned 30 last November, but turning 30 didn't really change anything for me. Still, it's impossible for a person to stay exactly the same forever. Even if you think you haven't changed, I believe something is shifting little by little. So I think "staying the same" is actually a form of change. What's in "Twenty-Nine, Thirty" is the real, life-sized version of myself – seemingly unchanged yet changing. It's me right now, full of hesitation, suffering, and joy. I want to keep expressing myself honestly, without lies. I want to keep singing only the truths I know, straightforwardly.

<The End>

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