Everything (It's you)

Sparse, hushed, and almost startlingly modest for a band at peak commercial power — a ballad carried by acoustic guitar and space, with the rhythm section barely present and the arrangement declining nearly every opportunity to swell. That restraint is deliberate: the record arrived during a period when Sakurai was recovering from illness and the band had pulled back from the machinery of stardom. His vocal is intimate to the point of being conversational, close-mic'd, with breath and small imperfections left audible; the English title phrase floats out softly rather than being belted. The lyric strips romance down to a single declaration — everything is you — but frames it through fragility, the awareness that ordinary days are borrowed and that the person beside you is the only durable fact. Written as the theme for a television drama, it circulated as the gentle counterweight to the band's harder, more searching mid-nineties material. It has aged into a first-dance and late-night song, the kind of track people put on for one specific person. Play it in a dim room with someone you love, or alone at 2 a.m. when you want to feel the weight of an attachment rather than perform it.