A well-chosen title is something that I value in any piece of art, but especially when it comes to music. A title in a language that I do not speak is an added bonus, a bite of dessert, an extra puzzle to solve, especially after listening to a track like ananaB annA's 幸せの祈り (Shiawase no inori), which in itself is a bit of an alien transmission. Absorbing the music before learning what the title even means actually adds to the strangeness of the experience. Maybe you should go listen to the track before I spoil it for you by translating the title.
Welcome back! I will assume that you have now listened to 幸せの祈り and that your facial expression is something in the general direction of "WTF". You've heard an organ-driven funky city pop rhythm — I am far from a specialist, but as I understand it, this is the umbrella term for the Western-influenced '80s Japanese disco funk that accompanied the animated cartoons of my childhood — slowly melt into a puddle as its tempo very gradually decreases, then jump into a lively samba (at least I think it's a samba rhythm) as the BPM begins to swing upwards again and an accordion and violin enter the picture, playing what could be a happy little tune if it wasn't for the constant, jarring tonal ambiguity introduced by the meta-pendulum swings of an unstable tempo. Like me, you've probably struggled a bit at first to identify the instruments present, as there is some ring modulation going on, introducing some inharmonic squeals on top of the slowly detuning melodies. There's also some indistinct Smurf-like voices babbling in the background and shouting "Yippee!", adding to the confusion.
Changing the pitch/tempo of an entire track as it plays has always seemed to me like the ultimate blasphemy: without a fixed point of reference, how are we to understand rhythm and harmony? In the case of 幸せの祈り, I even suspect that there are multiple independent, asynchronous tempo automations happening in parallel. I say "suspect" because it's extremely difficult to tell, like hitting a moving target — and my ears are not trained in Hungarian horseback archery. Nevertheless, there is a clear sense of structure in this melting landscape: this is a coherent composition, played on real instruments, but perceived through a funhouse mirror so that its twee, harmless little candy-colored tunes acquire some monstrous, anxiety-inducing deformities. The effect is rather surprising. One doesn't quite know how to feel about it.
Which brings me to the translation of the title: "A Prayer for Happiness". Now that is spot-on: this music is gesturing towards happy, but clearly also struggling to get there, going through mood swings, slipping, sliding back down again. I could definitely see this piece used to score a scene from a film where a character is dissociating or having a manic episode.
Verdict: melted [good].