空も飛べるはず

"空も飛べるはず" moves with a confidence that is entirely without arrogance — it knows exactly what it is and does not need to announce it. The opening guitar riff has a quality of inevitability, as if this particular sequence of notes were the only possible beginning for a song about this kind of feeling. The arrangement builds in careful increments: bass and drums entering with a steadiness that grounds the whole structure without weighing it down, letting the electric guitar carry the melodic energy upward through the verses toward a chorus that genuinely fulfills the promise of everything before it. The tempo sits at that particular rate that matches a walking heartbeat, brisk but not hurried, and this creates a sensation of moving through space with intention and lightness simultaneously. Kusano sings with an openness that suggests no protective irony — the vulnerability is direct and unmediated, which given the song's subject matter (the conviction that being with a particular person makes anything possible) feels exactly right. The lyric operates through accumulation rather than argument, stacking images of sky, wind, and forward motion until the feeling becomes structural rather than decorative. This was the song that introduced many listeners to Spitz in 1994, and it has never lost the quality that made it matter: the ability to make the impossible feel not miraculous but simply obvious, as if flight were merely a matter of finally believing you could.