BŌSŌZOKU: JAPAN’S REBEL

BIKER SUBCULTURE

Bōsōzoku, meaning runaway tribe or wild tribe, finds it beginnings in the 1970’s, where a Japanese youth subculture of lawless bikers and wildly vivid and imaginative customized motorbikes began, so extravagant they were akin to art. Photographer Federico Radaelli captures the riders up close and personal through his kinship and passion of bikes. Capturing not only their machine customizations — but down to rare gear and custom clothing too — all a part of creating their own rules with the “rebel spirit of punks.”

Photographer Federico Radaelli’s images of the Bōsōzoku riders across Japan are captured through not only his own passion of customization culture of motorbikes and cars, but a genuine friendship and connection with the owners that he’d developed through the mutual appreciation of bike culture, joining their rides and even dining together with their families at a local izakaya. Radaelli delves into how he came to photograph current riders and where the subculture it is at today. “My initial interest for bikes and cars started at a very young age in Italy, when I was a kid my father had a 1970’s Kawasaki Z900 and all my mopeds were imported directly from Japan, which was a big trend growing up in Milan. I discovered the first examples of tuning in early 2000s but back then I wasn't really aware of how big and amazing the scene was in Japan. We got in contact through Instagram. I guess they noticed from my content that I am very into motorbikes and into the whole scene. That helped the relationship to build up chatting about motorbike and allowing bikes to become our language.”

The beginning of Japan’s Bōsōzoku tribes began from a history from WWII war veterans. Radaelli explains, “The origin of Bōsōzoku is from Kaminarizoku (lightning tribe), first seen in the 1950’s. Those in the group were children of upper-class families who could afford motorcycles and turned to custom car making and gang-like activities on city streets to gain an adrenaline fix. They gained many inspirations from American greaser culture and imported western films.” Although Bōsōzoku were seen as lawless and unruly, they were not violent. Radaelli adds, “They were more focused on speed like the hashiriya (street racers). The name kaminarizoku comes from the fact that their motorcycles would make thunderous noises with their mufflers removed and the way they would zigzag through traffic like a stroke of lightning.” Through his ongoing documentation at Bōsōzoku gatherings, Radaelli developed a close friendship with numerous riders including Masayan and Satoshi, two current-era Bōsōzoku riders who further add on the history of the subculture, “While riders were passionate about custom motorcycles, some of the gangsters would have been in conflict with other groups. That was one way to expand and control their power in this way.” 

Documenting the bikers led Radaelli to Tokyo’s neighbouring Chiba, where riders gather, taking his camera gear with him. “They were very welcoming, a bit reserved, but they loved the fact I travelled from very far just to meet them and to witness Bōsōzoku in person. I am a big camera nerd so my main camera is a small Contax T3, but in this project I shot on film and used a Contax G2, Mamiya 7 and Contax T3. It doesn’t really matter for me. At night, shooting is a bit more restrictive sometimes. But how I shoot is very simple, if there is light I use ambient, otherwise I use strobes to light the pictures.” Completely customizable, Radaelli notes the dedication to personal expression and sculptural artistry of the bikes; “Their bikes are completely self-built and self-customized, it’s like an endless transformation that reflects its owners identity, every detail is looked after. What amazed me is how the bikes became a sort of moving sculpture. Most parts are handmade or they fit parts supplied aftermarket or by artisans.” Masayan and Satoshi further add, “Of course, custom parts were procured in an era when there was no internet, so we used to buy them at the motorcycle parts store. The rest was through mail-order sales of motorcycle magazines. One of the most impressive Bōsōzoku bikes was a style in which a cowl called "Buchiage" was mounted two or three steps higher, and the seat and backrest was extended. It was like a festival altar.”

Bōsōzoku riders Masayan and Satoshi explain the initiation of becoming a Bōsōzoku rider, “When becoming a Bōsōzoku member, most people become members of the local group where they were born and raised from around 14 to 16 years old. I think it's standard to change from a motorcycle to a car and retire at about 18 years old. The number of groups would have been uncountable in Japan as a whole.” Radaelli further adds, “There used to be initiation rituals and all, it was similar to an army initiation and the sense of comradeship, this is also due to its origins from back in the 50’s. There were many clans, in different regions or neighbourhoods in the case of big cities like Tokyo. Nowadays Fukuoka and Okinawa are having a come back of Bōsōzoku. I don't see it as a bad thing at all, its a way to allow young men to express themselves and to not merge into the global identity dictated by social medias. They have the rebel spirit of punks and remind me a lot of the 60’s and 70’s rockers.”
Like their bikes, the uniform of Bōsōzoku were diverse and original. In the 1970’s, the most common uniform of any Bōsōzoku member was the Tokkō-fuku. Masayan and Satoshi explain it is “the official uniform when running or in conflict.”  Tokkō-fuku, translated literally as special attack clothing, was a style initially incorporated from conservative political groups which developed over time into custom-embroidered jackets to indicate group affiliation. Some elaborate embroideries could cost up to ¥200,000 to ¥300,000 (USD $2000-$3000). Radaelli explains, “The more embroidery a rider has, the more expensive the tokkō-fuku. The tokkō-fuku has nothing to do with the uniform worn by kamikaze pilots (known as kamikaze tokkō-tai). They share the same name from the fact that the wearer would bravely dive into a fight headfirst no matter how tough the opponent. Nowadays the uniform is not essential anymore, it’s more casual wear, but what they have kept is the combat boots that are mostly passed on from generation to generation and the unique style and customised helmets.”

It was the disregard for the law and ongoing group rivalries that drove notoriety for the Bōsōzoku subculture — their wildly customized bikes easily heard from afar before they were even seen. Yet today, riders rather pay homage to the creative customization of bikes and community camaraderie. Masayan and Satoshi note, “In Japan today, those who are called Bōsōzoku are almost extinct. Instead, there is a group such as a Bōsōzoku alumni called "Old Car Association (Kyushakai).” Radaelli adds, “The rebel days of the 80’s/90’s Bōsōzoku are long gone even if in some cities younger kids are having fun again revving and running away from the cops, Fukuoka and Okinawa are very alive about that now. The people are very chilled when they meet, friends reliving nostalgic moments and chatting about the old days. Violent rivalries are gone and you can see Black Emperor and Specter members hanging out together peacefully.”  Whilst the Bōsōzoku subculture continues in a different degree, the influence of its original ethos and way of life is undeniable. The past imprints on the future, igniting passion into Japan's new easy riders.

Text: Joanna Kawecki 

Images: Federico Radaelli