Chihei Hatakeyama
Chihei Hatakeyama released a solo album Minima Moralia from Chicago-based avant-garde music label Kranky in 2006. Since then, he has released many works from independent labels in Japan and overseas, such as Rural Colors in the UK, Under The Spire, Room 40 in Australia, and Home Normal in Japan, and has also performed live tours overseas. He is well known abroad and was ranked in the top 10 of Spotify’s 2017 “Most Played Japanese Artists Overseas”. In April, 2021, the album Late Spring was released from Gearbox Records in the UK. This year, the film for which he composed the music, Life is Climbing! was released in theaters. In recent years, he has been touring abroad, and in 2022, he toured 15 cities in the U.S. His newest work Hachirōgata Lake was released on September 1, 2022.

Since his debut in 2006, Tokyo-based electronic musician Chihei Hatakeyama has released a number of original pieces that have been highly acclaimed by listeners worldwide. His most recent album, Hachirōgata Lake, has a unique concept that can be clearly distinguished from his previous works.

As the title suggests, the album’s theme is the lake on the Oga Peninsula in Akita Prefecture, most of which was transformed into a vast agricultural area through a two-decades-long extensive reclamation project that began in 1957.

Last September, Hatakeyama visited Hachiroagata with a sound recorder in hand and made field recordings. Hatakeyama added the instrumental sounds to the sound sources obtained on this trip and completed it as a piece. How did this distinctive come into being? We sat down and talked to him about stories behind the recording process and his own views on ambient music.

Hachirōgata may not be far from my roots

Hachirōgata Lake, by Chihei Hatakeyama

9 track album

chiheihatakeyama.bandcamp.com

–How did you come to produce this work?

Chihei Hatakeyama (Hatakeyama): It all started when I was approached by a Dutch label music label called “Field Records.” As the name suggests, the label predominantly focuses on works featuring field recordings. SUGAI KEN had already released an album titled Tone River (2020), and they asked me to produce a work as a sequel to the album under the same theme: Japanese soundscapes.

–Did the label suggest you take up Hachirōgata Lake as a theme?

Hatakeyama: Yeah. Field Records has a connection with the Dutch Embassy. Related to that connection, it was suggested that I feature Hachirōgata Lake as a theme because, in the past, the Netherlands provided Japan with technical cooperation for a large-scale reclamation project of Hachirōgata Lake. The land area where Oogata Village is located now was built as a result of that land reclamation work starting in 1957. Reclamation technologies developed in the Netherlands, a country of reclamation, were utilized extensively in the project.

–Did you initially have an interest in the history of Hachirōgata before that?

Hatakeyama: Well, I am embarrassed, but I must confess that until I started working on this project, I was only somewhat aware of it as something I had learned about in geography class. I had never even been to Akita Prefecture, let alone to Hachirōgata. My father is from Hokkaido, and his ancestors emigrated from Tohoku to the frontier areas of Hokkaido around the Meiji era (1868-1912) and started living there. So, I have always had an interest in reclaimed areas. I felt related to that area also because I heard that there are many families in Akita Prefecture with the surname “Hatakeyama.” In addition, my father’s mother is also from Aomori, so my roots may not be far from there.

–Did you do any research on Hachirōgata before recording?

Hatakeyama: I did some before the visit, and after I arrived, I first visited the Oogata Village Reclamation Museum. I saw the exhibition and was struck by how people at the time had hope for a completely different future from what we see today. I was inspired by the young people of the time and the voices of the villagers.

What surprised me when I visited the area around the lake was how vast the reclaimed land was. It really is enormous. Most of it is farmland, and only a small part is inhabited, but I was overwhelmed by the open landscape all around. We had to move around on foot because we thought we would miss places with good acoustic conditions if we used a car. But it was such a challenging process because my legs were so tired from walking, and I sweated a lot even in a very short period of time, as it was done on one of the hottest days in September 2022 (laughs).

–Did you have a specific sound image that you wanted to record beforehand?

Hatakeyama: There are lakes and rivers around the reclaimed land, so I decided to focus on the sound of water before visiting there. The first stop on the way to Hachirōgata Lake after getting off the bus was the river flowing into the lake, and I recorded a flock of birds coming in and singing along with the sound of water. I used the sounds from that moment in the track called “Water And Birds.”

–Generally speaking, water is an important motif in field recordings. Why are musicians attracted to the sound of water?

Hatakeyama: One reason may be that it has substance and is tactually recognizable. Technically, air can also be touched, but for me, water has a particular sense of reality. And yet, it is not fixed in a definite form; it always changes according to the environment. This combination of substantiality and abstractness fits well with my view of music. There is also, of course, the interesting sound that water makes. If you listen carefully to seemingly repetitive sounds, you will find that no two sounds are ever the same.

–When you listen to the album, you will notice that there is a “sound of water” that is unique to each location. It is like each water sound makes you visualize a particular landscape.

Hatakeyama：Yeah, you are right. The scenery of the location where I recorded the sound for “Water And Birds” was also visually impressive. The landscape with small abandoned boats made me imagine how the once-flourishing place has turned into a forlorn and calm one.

–Indescribable sentiments are somehow encapsulated in these sounds, aren’t they?

Hatakeyama：Even when we moved to a different place after that recording session and went into an eatery, there were almost no people there. That kind of lonesome atmosphere is surely reflected in the whole album. Initially, I thought I was going to record the sounds of nature, but when I visited there, I realized that, of course, this place might not be “nature” after all. Rather, I found the mixture of “nature,” such as water and creatures and artificial things, fascinating. Like the sound of a pier at an unmanned boat ramp swaying in the wind. In the first track, “By The Pond,” the sound of fireworks coming from somewhere is layered on the sound of insects.

–That plosive sound, right? It certainly created an interesting effect.

Hatakeyama: What was also impressive was that there were points where the sounds of birds and insects suddenly disappeared, and almost no sound could be heard. I felt this kind of soundscape could only be created in a human-made environment. Part of the reason why it was so difficult to find recording points was that even when I found the appropriate ones, the noise, like loud crows’ voices, could drown out the others (laughs). So, I cut, layered, and edited the sounds meticulously, always bearing in mind that I was creating a musical piece.

Hatakeyama’s sound now stands in the line of the Onkyo music in the 2000s

–Field-recording-based works tend to be thought of as “an objective recording of environmental sounds as they are,” but even the work only consisting of sounds from field recordings, not to mention the ones layered with instrumental sounds, can be reflections of the subjective sense and identity of the one who recorded the sounds at various levels. What do you think about that?

Hatakeyama：Yeah, you are right. I started to incorporate the methodology of field recording into my work almost 20 years ago, and I have gradually personalized the method since then. I choose various equipment and record at specific points, considering “how I capture the world.” And the more I have done this kind of recording, the more concrete my own method has become.

Additionally, when it comes to field recording, the use of high-performance microphones tends to be recommended. Still, such equipment sometimes “captures too much,” as in the case of a very high-resolution camera taking an image too clearly. It is undoubtedly true that details can be perceivable, but that does not necessarily mean that they are musically appropriate. Instead, I prefer a sound that is a bit more ambiguous. I don’t want to record a “bare environment.” Besides, the extremely high-definition sounds would not blend very well when combined with the instrumental sounds. Therefore, in this time, too, I used an inexpensive handheld recorder called the ZOOM H4.

–In recent years, several books about field recording have been published, and the presence of field recordings and works based on them is becoming increasingly important. Do you feel that?

Hatakeyama：Yes. I feel that recently, a lot of attention has been given to it in various places.

— This trend is not unrelated to the recent popularity of ambient music, which is closely linked to the idea of soundscape.

Hatakeyama: Yeah.

–Generally, the listeners recognize you as one of the leading artists of the contemporary ambient music scene.

Hatakeyama：Well, I don’t know. I am often told so, but in fact, I have been thinking about it a little, if not feeling a little uncomfortable.

–What do you mean?

Hatakeyama：I started my practices as a musician in the mid-2000s, but it is only in the last ten years that my music has come to be clearly defined as ambient, which is probably related to the boom in Japanese ambient pieces produced in the past. However, I am aware that I started making music with a strong influence from the electronica of the 2000s and the so-called “Onkyo music movement” of the same era.

If I were to name a specific work, I remember how massively shocked I was when I first heard Fennesz’s “Endless Summer” (2001). That’s why I think my work is somewhat different from the style of prevailing ambient music now. Fennesz’s “Endless Summer” is now considered a masterpiece of ambient music, but it was probably not even recognized as ambient when it was released. Of course, I was listening to the chill-out and ambient house music that was popular in the 1990s. It was just around the time when Haruomi Hosono was still producing ambient music. I remember I went to a DJ event co-hosted by Mixmaster Morris and Hosono, which was the first opportunity for me to be exposed to ambient music events. Then, I first got a music sequencer and a cassette MTR, with which I experimented a lot to see if I could do something interesting. I also had an improvisational music band with friends. I wish I had tapes or MDs from that period, but I have thrown them all away. My works from that period might also be defined as what we now call ambient.

–Sounds interesting.

Hatakeyama：I was also shocked by the radical methods of Carsten Nicolai and Ryoji Ikeda, who stripped away the melody and thematized the pure sound of the materials. I was also interested in the improvisational music of Derek Bailey and his ilk. The musical inspiration from these musicians led to my debut album, MinimaMoralia (2006).What I am trying to say here is that I wasn’t really conscious of the term “ambient” at least at the beginning of my career, and I think my stance is basically the same even today.

What is interesting, however, is that the term is changing: what the term “ambient” in the 90s referred to in the 90s is totally different from what the term refers to now. The ever-expanding scope of ambient makes me think the definition of ambient music can vary depending on the listener’s or producer’s interpretation of the term. I myself am often inadvertently bound by the word, but I also try to create a piece of music that is on the boundary between ambient and non-ambient.

— Listening to the sounds you create, including this album, I understand what you mean. For example, the way you use guitar sounds differs from how they are usually used in the context of ambient music and is more like the one in post-rock or alternative rock.

Hatakeyama：That’s right. It is primarily because I have loved metal music since I was in high school. I still love it. Also, the Velvet Underground had the most significant influence on me. From there, I started listening to My Bloody Valentine. That is, I think my music can be placed in the line of alternative rock, which is part of the reason why I dare to use the Flying V, a typical rock guitar, on stage (laughs).

About ten years ago, I was working not only as a solo artist but also in bands and a project working on music with vocals. I didn’t actually sing, well, I did a bit of backing chorus. For the past decade, I’ve spent most of my time managing labels and doing solo work, but I’m thinking about expanding my style in various ways again. I will be releasing an album with jazz drummer Shun Ishiwaka next year. It will be my first work accompanied with drums in a long time, which will be pretty epoch-making for me. However, this album is definitely influenced by so-called ambient masterpieces, like Brian Eno’s “Ambient 4: On Land” (1982).

–That album also incorporated field-recorded sounds, didn’t it? It was a dark album that evokes an image of desolate countryside.

Hatakeyama: Yes, it is. I used that atmosphere as a great reference.

— Did you score the phrases of each instrument as you produced the music? Or did you improvise?

Hatakeyama: It was somewhere in between. It was not, “Let’s put this kind of sound here to give it this meaning,” but I added them intuitively. Some of the sounds were added in a session-like manner while playing field recordings, and others were made from materials I created in the past that seemed to fit.

Actually, since the COVID-19 outbreak, I had been in a bit of a slump. I thought I would have time to create a lot of songs, and in fact, I was accumulating a stock of sound fragments. However, I found myself at an impasse, and none of them seemed to sound right. It was the first time for me to have such an experience. However, as I toured the U.S. and worked on film music, my feelings gradually began to change around the summer of 2022, and I suddenly felt that I was getting back into the swing of things.

Looking back, the reason I was in a slump was because I couldn’t perform live during that time, and I was away from the act of actually shaking the air and making a sound in front of people. So, I think the first tour in a while was a great stimulus for me, and I could feel the phrases I played fresh once again. I started working on this piece around September 2022, just after I came out of my slump.

–From what you just said, the process of going to the lake and recording the vibrations of the air while walking with your tired feet may have worked as a form of self-therapy.

Hatakeyama：That is absolutely true. In that sense, Hachirōgata Lake, which is not far from my roots, was a perfect place to visit. Even though it was my first visit there, it was easy to form a mental picture based on the place, and the landscapes and sounds of Hachirōgata Lake made me feel nostalgic somehow. It was a strange experience.

Also, I began to think about whether my life would continue as it is due to the tragic wars that are taking place around the world. I’m sure that making this album itself was a way of deeply reflecting on myself, while carrying that kind of feeling with me.

Photography Mayumi Hosokura

The post Interview with Chihei Hatakeyama; The Sound of Genre-Pushing Ambient Piece “Hachirōgata Lake” appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Lamp
Formed in 2000 by Taiyo Someya, Yusuke Nagai, and Kaori Sakakibara, Lamp released their first album Soyokaze Apartment Room 201from the indie label Motel Bleu in 2003. They were featured in Tower Records’ [NO MUSIC, NO LIFE]campaign in 2014. In 2017 and 2018, they went on an independent tour around East Asia respectively. The band released their eighth album, Her Watch, in 2018. Their independent shows at Liquid Room and Kinema Club were sold out. On October 10, 2023, Lamp’s latest album, Dusk to Dawn was released digitally.
https://www.lampweb.jp

On October 10, 2023, Lamp’s latest album, Dusk to Dawn, was released digitally. It is a 75-minute album consisting of 20 songs woven out of various elements such as Brazilian music, soul music, soft rock, folk, and even a touch of “Japanese.” While the album attracts listeners with its usual high quality, meticulous production, and sincere musicianship, it also catches our ears for its ambitious attempts, particularly in mixing, but also in composition and arrangement.

As has already been discussed in various places, Lamp is rapidly gaining popularity among listeners around the world over the past few years. Now, with more than 2.3 million monthly listeners on Spotify, they seem to have become one of the most popular Japanese artists among international listeners.

Against this backdrop, Dusk to Dawn was released without any prior publicity. How was this epic work produced? And what are their ambivalent feelings about their ” international popularity”? We interviewed three members, Taiyo Someya, Yusuke Nagai, and Kaori Sakakibara.

A voluminous work comprising twenty songs

–This new album, Dusk to Dawn, is your first new album in five years since your last album, Her Watch, released in 2018, so it seems there has been a bit of time, given how frequently you had released your previous works.

Taiyo Someya (Someya): Emotionally, we would like to release new works as often as before, but the more we have released, the higher the standards that we set for our work have become. Also, after being active as a band for such a long period of time, it has gradually become difficult to keep motivating ourselves. As for my personal life, my first child was born, and my mother had been thrown into a state where she needed nursing care before she eventually passed away while I was working on this project. Also, the biggest problem was that Yusuke Nagai, who was co-composing the music for the band with me, was feeling unwell.

Yusuke Nagai (Nagai): It is not a complicated story, but I just couldn’t motivate myself to make music. Since we are not the band that plays live all the time, I am not really aware that I am a musician except when we are recording. So, it is difficult for me to get into the right frame of mind when it comes time to make music. It’s like, in the midst of my daily life, the priority of making music is lowered.

–How about you, Sakakibara-san?

Kaori Sakakibara (Sakakibara): I have not had so many ups and downs. I was not particularly worried about Nagai. He had always been like that, so I thought it was nothing too serious (laughs).

Nagai: Well, I don’t think it was a slump because I was not necessarily feeling that I couldn’t stand making music anymore. However, there were many times when I wondered if I would ever be able to finish this piece. In fact, I only finished a few songs on this album by myself, but I managed to complete most of the songs with the help of Someya and Kaori.

–How did you end up with an album with a total of 20 songs in that situation?

Someya: I started writing and shaping songs around 2019, and around November of that year, I could see the album’s basic concept. At that point, I told the two of them that I would write seven songs and Nagai would write five, and we had set March 2020 as a tentative deadline. However, as he mentioned earlier, Nagai’s songs didn’t come in, and in the meantime, I wrote a lot more songs than I had planned, so we had a stockpile of songs. I thought that it would be an excellent opportunity to release such voluminous work that could even be released as a double vinyl set. With single-song releases becoming the norm, I thought that releasing a 20-song album would have a significant impact.

–It’s not just that the album contains so many songs. Each song reaches a high degree of perfection so that the album’s content is very rich.

Someya: Thank you very much. I don’t mean to brag, but this is really an album that I took the lead and worked hard on (laughs). That’s why I credited myself as a producer for the first time.

— I can sense the power and passion Sometani had to lead the band through the album’s content. I guessed that you took the lead not only in the creative aspect but also in the administrative aspects involved in the production process.

Nagai: Yeah, you are right. Now that I am older, I truly respect how well-organized and diligent Someya is. I used to tease him a little for being so in the past, though (laughs). Seriously, that’s part of the reason why the band keeps going.

Sakakibara: Yeah, that’s right.

Creating each song carefully

— In this day and age, it is possible to produce music in a smaller team by making full use of DAWs, even if you compose music by layering live instruments in a constructive manner. However, looking at the credits of this work, I was surprised, by the fact that a huge number of musicians actually participated in the session. I thought it would be quite a painstaking task just to coordinate the schedules of these people. You can’t take this kind of approach with independent releases without passion.

Someya: That’s exactly right. I started to feel more energized in this year, and I took care of all the administrative work including schedule coordination. This album is extraordinary in that it needed such administrative hard work and passion for creation, as well as in that we spent a considerable amount of money on it, which is very rare today.

— My impression is that the hybrid nature of Lamp’s music, which draws on Brazilian, soul, and pop music, has been deepened through repeated and careful sessions.

Someya: I wanted to create each song carefully. If I were to create something that could be completed in my home studio, I felt that it would not be something I would be satisfied with.

–In an interview several years ago, you said that you had a complex regarding your singing voice. How was the voice recording session for this album?

Nagai: I still can’t get used to it. It’s not as bad as it used to be, but I still feel stressed when I hear my own voice.

–I think you have a wonderful and prodound voice, which can be described as a “singer/songwriter voice.”

Nagai: I understand what you are mean, but when it comes to my own voice, I can’t take it. But well, I’ve given up on it now (laughs).

–How about you, Sakakibara-san? What do you think about your own singing in this work?

Sakakibara: It may sound like I’m very insensitive, but almost nothing, including how I sing and how I feel about my voice, has changed (laughs). However, my hay fever gets worse every year. Although others may not notice it, I took special care of my voice for some of my songs.

Someya: This is the first time Kaori had to go through so many takes when recording her voice, isn’t it? In that sense, you could say she had more difficulties than usual.

–I felt that the overall impression of the album, including the way you sing, is more subdued than in the past. Of course, each song was very well arranged, but they seem somewhat more introverted than previous works.

Someya: When I was younger, I was determined to create something great, which was reflected in the songs and sound. However, as time went by, I became increasingly aware that music played casually in a corner of the world would resonate more honestly with me as a listener. That is precisely how I felt when I created this album, which is why it gives the impression you just described. I worked with this feeling in composition, recording, and editing. I thought it would be better if the song deeply affected one person, rather than somehow affecting everyone who listened to it. Well, I have always had that sense of awareness, though.

–Your methodology for mixing has changed a lot, hasn’t it? I felt that it has become more private and intimate. The sound image localization and EQ seem to be noticeably more ambitious.

Someya: I have been self-taught in composing, arranging, and mixing. A few years ago, I co-produced a mini album by Kaede of Negicco, Stardust in Blue, with Hirohide Kadoya of Uwanosora. And since then, I have fiddled with Pro Tools by myself. As for that album, I mixed it up to the middle, and then I handed it over to the engineer. This time, however, I mixed everything from beginning to end, with the exception of “Night Drizzle,” which was done by Nagai. That is the most significant difference between Lamp’s past works and this one.

Regarding sound localization, I once tried the traditional method of placing the sounds like vocals, kicks, and bass in the center. But then I realized that it was just a way of creating a sound that was powerful, acoustically clean, and easy-to-listen-to, or even marketing-friendly. In other words, it was often used to meet a short-term goal for consumption. In fact, if you look back at pop music from the 1960s onward, you will find that it has gradually become more and more aligned with the current mixing method. I came up with my own hypothesis about what kind of music would be listened to over the long term, and as a result, I ended up with a mix that deviated from the mainstream one.

Nagai: I had a good feeling about Someya’s mixing methodology from the beginning and agreed with it. So I basically left it up to Someya. Personally, what I was not sure about until the very end was whether or not to get the mixed sound data on the analog tape. When I tried it, I found that some of them sounded better, while others did not. So, in the end, we decided on a song-by-song basis whether to do it or not.

Sakakibara: At first, I felt a little uncomfortable with the localization of the vocals, but in the end, I was convinced by the way he mixed the sounds.

Someya: I hope people listening to it will feel like it is a “very intimate work.

Popularity among international listeners and streaming services

–I think you have consciously avoided “sounds for short-term consumption,” but in the past few years, your music has gained explosive popularity on streaming services, which in a sense can be seen as a symbol of “short-term consumption.” When did you first become aware of such a trend?

Someya: Around June of 2021, I clearly recognized our music had gone viral. On the other hand, apart from a series of movements on the Internet over the past few years, we had been receiving inquiries from overseas for quite some time; in the mid-2000s, we received offers from Korean labels to release our music, and when we were invited to perform live there, the audience was very excited. Another trigger might be when our music was illegally uploaded in the late 2000s and slowly started to be heard overseas. At the time, we were just happy that people were listening to our music. Since then, I had been thinking that if things went well, many people outside of Japan would listen to our music. 

Sakakibara：When we went to China and Korea, songs from For Lovers and “Hatachi no Koi (二十歳の恋; literally: Love at 20) ” were particularly popular. At the time, we had no idea why those songs were so popular.

Nagai: Yeah. It was interesting to find the fact that songs that didn’t have a strong presence within our own group were so popular. I thought there must be a particular taste that people outside of Japan like.

Someya: Maybe there is some kind of power in the works that we are not aware of.

–It seems that for the new generation of listeners, a sense of “melancholy” and “nostalgia” are key, which however is not limited to Lamp’s music.

Someya: As a listener, I have been moved by music that evokes such sensations, so perhaps these elements naturally appear in our own work.

–Then you had songs posted to Reddit in the mid-2010s, and after your music became available digitally, you got a significant number of plays on Spotify.

Someya: Exactly.

— So, as a result, it led to going viral and views on TikTok in 2021 and beyond.

Someya: To be honest, I was extremely upset when subscription-based streaming services were first introduced. As a music producer, I was like, “Are you sure you are okay with lowering the value of music this much? It’s insane.” That is why we were initially negative about releasing our work on subscription services. On the other hand, people overseas could not easily buy CDs, and even authorized downloads were not allowed in some countries. After much deliberation, taking into account that there were many people who actually wanted to listen to our music, we decided to release many of our songs on these services in 2018. Right around that time, some people advised us that Lamp has quality contents and that just having the internet infrastructure in place would make things work better, so I changed my mind.

— Again, Lamp’s stance and the phenomenon of going viral on SNS and streaming services seem to contradict each other in a sense. How do you feel about the fact that your songs are gaining support under those circumstances?

Someya: There are roughly two points that I would like to make on it. One is that we have always believed that we are making music that will be listened to by many people for a long time, so in that sense, I am not really surprised, or I even feel that it is “natural.”

It may sound contradictory, but on the other hand, I also have a sense of surprise. As you mentioned, I have always thought that TikTok and YouTube were incompatible with our values, aesthetics, and way of thinking. I feel strange seeing our music spreading in such spaces. However, going back to the first point, I believe this phenomenon is happening precisely because we have made quality music.

Sakakibara: Well, but we had no idea about what was going on at first.

Someya: Kaori, you still feel uncomfortable, don’t you?

Sakakibara Due to articles introducing how our music went viral and was heard abroad, I felt as if that was all those who had never heard of us before were paying their attention to. I know it is contradictory, but I strongly feel that I want to keep Lamp a secret. Also, fan-art versions of the For Lovers jacket have been circulating, haven’t they?

–It became kind of a “meme.”

Sakakibara: Yeah. At first, I thought our work was being teased since I was unfamiliar with such culture (laughs). Now I kind of understand it, though.

Releasing newest work without prior publicity

— You have released your new album amid such a big wave. If you follow the conventional wisdom of the music industry, you would take advantage of this momentum and aggressively promote this new release. But instead, you have released it digitally without notice, without advertising, without a press release, and even without distributing any samples. Why was that?

Someya: I did this entirely on my own initiative, not only without announcing it to the industry but also without consulting either of the members about it. I was also dissatisfied with the fact that it was common practice for those involved to be able to listen to the music before others. Also, related to what I wrote on Twitter, I may just be a bit of a twisted person (laughs). I also wanted to enjoy the release itself by doing this.

Sakakibara: With the previous album, we had to make a press release by ourselves, which was a lot of work, so when Taiyo said we didn’t have to do anything like that this time, I was just delighted (laughs).

— If you release your work physically through a label, you would have to make adjustments in terms of profits, and you would also have to work around the schedule in various ways. So, for artists who want to stick to a DIY style, there are substantially more restrictions on them.

Someya: That’s right. For me, that is the most nerve-wracking work of all. It is simply very hard.

–That’s why you decided to release it digitally out of the blue, right?

Someya: Going back to what we have discussed, the fact that our music has become popular overseas is not always a good thing. Initially, I was happy that Japanese listeners were enthusiastic about our music, and I enjoyed searching and reading online comments and criticisms.

However, as our music spread overseas and the number of so-called “light listeners” increased, I began to receive a tremendous amount of comments and DMs from these people, but they all contained similar copy-and-paste kinds of words. It is a little sad to say, but I have recently stopped reading any DMs or comments.

We decided to make a 20-song album this time because we wanted to target people who genuinely like our music. We also felt that for those who only listen to the top songs on Spotify and still call themselves fans, “Well, you probably won’t listen to all of them anyway.” I hate to say this because they all love and listen to our music, though.

–Oh, that sounds radical. 

Someya: To be honest, I’d rather it not be popular than to promote it to such “fans.” It is more important for us to make something we are satisfied with. We released the album without any regard for how many times it would be played on subscription services.

Of course, I have no intention of denying that you will get a lot of listeners and increase your income in the short term. However, from a long-term perspective, it is much more important to do what you like and what you are satisfied with. It is more detrimental to us to put out something preoccupied with the immediate future.

Also, after making music for so long, I feel once again that I am ultimately attracted to the parts of music that cannot be expressed in words. It is no exaggeration to say that this is the only thing I am pursuing. That is one of the reasons why I did not create press materials that explain this album in words. We have always had the same attitude. Anyway, we will be happy as long as people listen to our music as it is as music.

–Lastly, what are your plans for the future?

Someya: Right now, we have zero concrete plans (laughs). If we were to follow “common sense,” I think we would release a CD and a record, and have a live concert to celebrate the launch, but nothing has been decided yet. We are just now discussing the possibility of touring not only in Japan, but also overseas.

■Lamp Dusk to Dawn
Released on October 10, 2023 
1. Dusk
2. The Last Dance
3. As Times Goes By
4. Cold Way Home
5. Misty Town
6. Around the Corner
7. August Calendar
8. Late Night Train
9. Her Watch
10. Weekend
11. Autumn Letter
12. Summer Triangle
13. Bedroom Afternoon
14. A Winter’s Day
15. Moon Ride
16. Old Notebook
17. Amidst the Morning Mist
18. Alone in My Room
19. Night Drizzle
20. Dawn 
Lamp : Taiyo Someya, Yusuke Nagai, Kaori Sakakibara
Produced and Directed by Taiyo Someya 
Mixed by Taiyo Someya (except “Night Drizzle ” by Yusuke Nagai)
All arrangement by Lamp (except strings arrangement on “Alone in My Room” by Shin Rizumu) 
Recorded and Mastered by Shigeki Nakamura
https://linkco.re/gQtY1r1s

Translation Shinichiro Sato

The post Interview with Lamp, On Their Latest Album “Dusk to Dawn” and Unchanging Attitudes towards Music appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Satoshi Suzuki
Born in Tokyo in July 1958, Suzuki Satoshi has been an active live house musician since 1977. He plays jazz piano, but his favorite music is soul music. Thus, the sound he produces is AOR.  
http://litera.in.coocan.jp/tealive.htm

Satoshi Suzuki is a “city pop artist” who has been creating solo music since the 1980s and has released several albums. He is an urban musician who is still an active performer and consistently performs live. However, even if we introduce him in this way, a very limited number of readers will be able to link this information to the right face. And it’s no wonder because Satoshi Suzuki is an amateur musician who has never had a hit or made his mark on the major music scene in his career but continues to play music in his own way.

In recent years, however, an LP records he released 35 years ago has suddenly gained attention from a bunch of music fans in Japan and abroad. Satoshi Suzuki’s music has fascinated edgy DJs, “diggers,” and a particular type of listeners enjoying the music in venues and nightclubs in Tokyo. They were exposed to his music as if they unexpectedly encountered something that had been stored in a time capsule without being seen by anyone, and have listened to it cherishingly.

The intimate home-recorded sound has a warm and delicate charm that is reminiscent of the DIY soul and AOR that has been discovered in the last decade or so, such as Jeff Phelps, Dwight Sykes, Chuck Senrick, and Joe Tossini. Well, no, it may not make much sense to try to appeal to the “music geek” crowds by putting together seemingly plausible nouns like these and trying to sound clever. Suzuki’s music is different from the type of music that will be enthusiastically supported by the majority, but is something that is sure to capture the hearts of a particular type of people.

This time, the sound sources produced in the past have been compiled and released as a compilation record entitled, “Distant Travel Companion,” by the Portland, OR-based label, Incidental Music. The release of this album is a particularly joyous occasion among a series of such events, as various Japanese music produced in the past has recently been reevaluated across oceans.

On the occasion of the release, we had the pleasure to sit down and talk to Suzuki about his career, the evolution of his musical practices, and the impetus for this release.

From a precocious listener to a musician

— First of all, can you tell us your birth year and where you were born?

Satoshi Suzuki (Suzuki): I was born in Tokyo in July 1958. I have lived all my life in Ikebukuro.

–Have you always loved music since you were a child?

Suzuki: Yes, I have. From the time I was in junior high school, I loved to listen to a kind of music that can be said to be the forerunner of what is now called “city pop,” like HAPPY END, Caramel Mama, Tin Pan Alley. At the time, I often listened to radio personality Baba Kozue’s radio programs, such as the Thursday episode of TBS Radio’s Pack in Music and こずえの深夜営業(Kozue’s Late Night Business), and she often played kinds of music I just mentioned. I first heard Yumi Arai and Minako Yoshida’s debut album, Haruomi Hosono’s Hosono House, and Eiichi Otaki’s first solo, Eiichi Otaki  all through the radio.

–So you were a very precocious listener.

Suzuki: Yes, perhaps I was, because until the mid-1970s, the mainstream was kayo kyoku (Japanese pop music) and a new form of folk music called new music.

For today’s interview, I brought audio cassette tapes that I edited myself in 1977. I bought all the singles I could get and dubbed them. (Looking at the index card) It contains Taeko Onuki’s Wander Lust, Ashita kara drama (明日から、ドラマ; literally: From tomorrow, there will be a drama), Yoshitaka Minami’s Korede Jyunbi Okay (これで準備OK; literally: We are ready with this), Sobakasu no Aru Shojo (そばかすのある少女; literally: Girl with Freckles), Minako Yoshida’s Shooting Star of Love part2,” Ami Ozaki’s Tabi (旅; literally: Journey) Hi-Fi Set’s Kaze no Machi (風の街; literally: The Town of Wind), Ginji Ito’s Kaze ni Narerunara (風になれるなら; literally: If I could be the wind), Yumi Matsutoya’s Torn by the sea Breeze, Hiroshi Kamayatsu’s A Seventeen in Satin Dress, and Makoto Kubota’s Bye Bye Baby. 

–(Looking at the index card) You also wrote the credits for the musicians yourself, didn’t you?

Suzuki: From that time on, I was checking personnel lists in liner notes and got every single sound source that Tin Pan Alley was involved as a backing band. After I left high school, I started working part-time at a record store in Ekoda, so I ordered and bought everything I wanted myself (laughs).

–When did you start playing music by yourself?

Suzuki：I started a band with my classmates when I was in high school, and after graduation I started playing at music venues in 1977. We played quite a few times at Red House in Koenji, The Loft in Ogikubo, Yamaha in Shibuya, and other music venues in Tokyo.

I was playing keyboards and taking vocals, and two other members were playing acoustic guitar and singing, so we were a trio. I tried my best to buy a Fender Rhodes early on and used it for live performances. In terms of band composition, it was simple, but I was a big fan of Carole King and James Taylor, so I was aiming for something more sophisticated than cheesy folk music. The chorus of the three of us was also an essential element. I had the two guitarists study the performances of James Taylor and Tadahide Yoshikawa.

–Did you have original songs in your repertoire at that time?

Suzuki: Yeah. After graduating high school, I went to Shobi Music Academy (now Shobi Music College), where I studied composition. The course was meant to be classical composition, but I was composing pop music (laughs). I was in a relatively free environment, where I was allowed to interact with students in the jazz department. I spent my days studying classical music theory and the Berklee method of jazz. After studying jazz theory, I became able to use chords for bossa nova, and my experience there became a great source of inspiration for my later music compositions.

–Did you also listen to soul music?

Suzuki：I did listen to soul music. Quincy Jones’ A&M era albums were released all at once as Japanese editions, and I bought them, which was how I was first exposed to soul-kind of music. After the 1980s, I started listening to what is called “black contemporary” music.

–What about AOR?

Suzuki：Of course, I love it. From Michael Franks to Steely Dan and Boz Scaggs, I used to buy their records a lot.

— You described your own music on the obi of the album Shumatsu no Hikari to Kaze(週末の光と風; litereally: Weekend Light and Wind), which was released later, as “40% jazz, 30% soul, 20% Brazilian, 10% kayo kyoku.” So that was a true reflection of your musical experiences at that time, right?

Suzuki：Yes, exactly.

–What happened to your band after that?

Suzuki：We were active for about eight years from 1977 until about 1985. However, we all started working and got busy, and naturally disbanded.

— Did you make any recordings with the band?

Suzuki：We recorded our songs in one take. The songs used to be on the Internet a long time ago.

Starting home recording in the 1980s

–When did you start home recording by yourself?

Suzuki：I started it in 1983, when I got a multitrack recorder TEAC 244. Until then, overdubbing was a very time-consuming process for amateurs. Like, you had to set up two decks and do ping-pong recording, so the MTR was a real breakthrough.

— How did you make strings parts?

Suzuki：I mainly used the YAMAHA CS01, which I have with me today. I also used the YAMAHA DX-7, which had just been released, and a Casio synthesizer. The DX-7 was such a revolutionary instrument. Until then, polyphonic synthesizers had limitations in many aspects.

–Have you ever thought of trying the techno-pop or New Wave music that was popular back then?

Suzuki: No. I wanted to stick to sophisticated music. After peaking in the early 1980s, the city pop sound stagnated, but I think that was largely due to the rise of New Wave music. New Wave music is derived from punk, and its underlying philosophy is to destroy existing music, which was different from what I liked.

But I naturally heard about it. I had a colleague who loved New Wave at the company I worked at in 1983. On the other hand, my boss liked Cassiopeia and AB’s and played their records at work. And I was rather attracted to them. I was working at the software development department of Rittor Music, so obviously, everyone in the workplace was a music lover.

–Wait, you worked at Rittor Music?

Suzuki: Just a short period, though (laughs). After that, I worked at synthesizer player Shigenori Kamiya’s studio.

–-Was that so?

Suzuki: Kamiya’s father was a painter, and he had converted his father’s studio into a music studio. Before I joined the company, various musicians, such as Akira Sakata and Shuichi “Ponta” Murakami, used that studio. There were a lot of magnificent instruments, including a real Mellotron. However, my job was not directly related to studio work but software development, just as during my time at Rittor.

— So, while doing this kind of work for a living, you recorded your music on a daily basis and released them in the form of LPs in the late 1980s?

Suzuki: Yeah, exactly. 

–Since the Internet became commonplace, self-releasing has not been so unusual, but there must have been many challenges to independently releasing a record back then.

Suzuki: Surprisingly, in my opinion, it was not so difficult. There were many New Wave indie labels, such as Nagom Records, and many people in that genre were independently producing their own records. Those examples made me want to make a record myself. Then I looked into how to release it, and it turned out that a company called Athene Record Ind. Co., Ltd. (Now known as Athene Corporation) could serve as a contact for production.

–Athene Record is now well known among enthusiasts as a prestigious independent record manufacturer.

Suzuki: It was a company that manufactured records mainly for educational purposes. I remember going to a meeting and being addressed by a serious-looking employee in a suit (laughs). I brought the master I had made to the Athene Record and had it converted into a master tape for cutting.

–You have released a total of three LPs. In what order were they released?

Suzuki：I don’t remember exactly when I released them. But I probably released Mandheling Street in 1987, followed by Shumatsu no Hikari to Kaze in 1988, and then Natsu ga Miseru Yume (夏が見せる夢; literally: The Dream Summer Shows). The songs in Mandheling Street and Natsu ga Miseru Yume were produced in parallel at the same time since 1983, and are mainly made up of rearranged versions of songs that I originally played in the band and recorded by myself. In my mind, Natsu ga Miseru Yume was considered the first album, but Mandheling Street had more cheerful songs, so I released it first (laughs). Shumatsu no Hikari to Kaze contains new songs that I wrote after 1987.

–You also directed the production of the sleeve, didn’t you?

Suzuki: Yes, I did.

–It may be rude to put it this way, but considering that it is an independently released record, the quality of the printing is incredibly high.

I worked for an advertising agency after working at Mr. Kamiya’s studio. The company is called Real Creative Agency, which is credited as the name of the label. The company created pretty much everything, so they had expertise in design and printing direction. The design was done by a designer at the company. He was happy to take on work for my record, saying, “I’ve always wanted to design a record.” (Laughs.) Younger people might not be able to imagine this, but those were the days when we were still submitting physical drafts for printing.

–The cover photo of Shumatsu no Hikari to Kaze, which is also used for the jacket of this compilation, is particularly wonderful.

Suzuki: My wife took this photo. It is a composition looking out over the outer moat from the platform of Ichigaya Station. The advertising agency where I worked was located in Ichigaya, so I used to pass by here every day (laughs).

— How did you distribute the finished recordings?

Suzuki: I did all the sales and delivery myself. However, since each title has only 100 copies, I only wholesaled it to some selected stores like “Yamano Gakki” and “Otomushi” in Ekoda. I also sent them to music magazines. Keyboard Magazine and Sinpu Journal introduced it. I also remember receiving orders from people living in other parts of the country, and I sent them out.

A compilation released by a Portland-based label in U.S.A.

–So the LPs you released about 35 years ago have been passed on to a later generation of listeners, and finally a compilation has been released by the Portland, OR-based label INCIDENTAL MUSIC, How do you feel about this development?

Suzuki：It feels surreal. To be honest, there were a lot of gaps in the sound back then. Compared to the sound I am making now, I think I could have done more (laughs); people probably find this sparse sound interesting, though.

— It is filled with a kind of intimacy and sense of romanticism that only music produced by an amateur musician in his everyday life can have. I think this delicate and private texture, which is not present in “products” released by major labels, captures the ears and hearts of younger listeners.

Suzuki：Nowadays, everything can be programmed on DAW. In that sense, the texture of these songs is entirely different from today’s sound. The drum sounds were also made with the rhythm machines of that time. Among others, the extensive use of the Rhodes Piano is what creates this texture. Today, we add long notes of synthesizers instead, but the fact that songs have actual sounds of the piano played by a human gives them a more handmade feel.

— The lyrics are also very nice and feel like some kind of literatures. They have a slightly fragile air of that era of Tokyo, or some sense of loneliness. 

Suzuki: Thank you very much. I put stories into the lyrics, but I write everything as fiction.

— This compilation also includes three songs from a later CD album, “Kokoro Kanawanai Natsu soshite Fuyu (心適わない夏、そして秋; literally; Heart Incongruous Summer and Autumn), also self-produced in 1993, which shows a change in sound compared to each of the songs on the LPs.

Suzuki: I used a different drum machine and a different Casio synthesizer. It may also feature funk-like songs written in a minor key.

–Can you tell us how the release of this compilation happened? 

Suzuki：Austin Tretwold of INCIDENTAL MUSIC accidentally found some of my songs uploaded on SoundCloud. So, one day, I received a message from him, and while exchanging messages, I introduced and sent some of the songs from the previous LPs. And he said, “These are great, so why don’t you make a compilation?”

At that time, I already knew Kunitomo of pianola record (where the interview took place), so I asked him, “I received an inquiry like this. What do you think?” Then I found out that Kunitomo’s label (conatala) and INCIDENTAL MUSIC had already worked together to release a reissue of Pale Cocoon’s Mayu (繭; literally: cocoon) several years ago.

–Oh, so Kunitomo was not the person who introduced you to Mr. Austin, was he?

Suzuki：No, he wasn’t. The release was decided as a result of a series of coincidences.

–Did Austin selected songs for the record?

Suzuki：Yes. I gave him all the past sound sources and asked him to choose as he liked. It was an eye-opening experience. He chose many bossa-nova-kind of songs, which I found interesting. The sound sources themselves were all re-mixed in a DAW this time.

Austin initially suggested the idea of mixing in some of the more recent songs to make a compilation, but I wanted to distinguish them from older ones. Obviously, the sound I am working on now is different from what is included in this record, and what is collected here is only “Satoshi Suzuki’s work from the 1980s to the early 1990s.”

— You are still actively performing live, and I have seen your shows several times. But when I saw your live performance for the first time, I was surprised by your unique setup. While playing rhythms recorded on cassette tape, you sing and use a YAMAHA CS01 with a strap attached as a shoulder keyboard.

Suzuki: My performance is based on that style. It has always been that style since 1983, when I started performing solo. It all started when I noticed that YMO used cassette tapes on their last national tour. So I thought it must be “okay” for me to use them in a live show just because the legends were doing them (laughs).

–It’s fascinating that you are actually playing cassette tapes, instead of using a rhythm machine or a laptop. The way you switch the cassette tapes after performing each song looks wonderful, like a bluesman switching blues harps depending on the key.

Suzuki: First and foremost, I want the audience to see how the cassette tapes are arranged on stage and how I replace them one after another (laughs). The sound of those cassettes is output with line from the synths I play, not from the PA, which also creates a unique sound texture.

–I would love for everyone reading this interview to see your live performance.

Suzuki：Yeah, please come and visit. I have my recent songs uploaded on various websites, so I would like people reading this to listen to them as well.

Translation Shinichiro Sato
Photography Mayumi Hosokura

■Satoshi Suzuki Distant Travel Companion (LP)
Price: ¥4,200

Distant Travel Companion is a compilation of songs selected from the rare tracks of Satoshi Suzuki, a singer-songwriter still active today, released from the 1980s to the 1990s.

JP
https://pianola-records.com/collections/distro/products/satoshi-suzuki-distant-travel-companion

EN
https://incidental-music.com/shop-releases/satoshi-suzuki-distant-travel-companion-lp-pre-order

The post DIY City Pop Artist Satoshi Suzuki Looks Back on His Musical Practices Since the 1980s appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

STUTS
STUTS is a producer and beatmaker born in 1989. In April 2021, he released “Presence,” the theme song for the TV drama Omameda Towako and Her Three Ex-Husbands. In October of the same year, he successfully did his solo live performance in STUDIO COAST. In October 2022, he released his third album, Orbit, and in December 2022, he released an album, Mirage, under the name Mirage Collective. In June 2023, he successfully held his first Nippon Budokan concert.
https://stutsbeats.com/
Twitter：@STUTS_atik
Instagram：＠stuts_atik
YouTube：@stuts0623

YONLAPA
YONLAPA is a four-piece indie pop band from Chiang Mai, Thailand’s second-largest city. Vocalist Noi Naa started her musical career as a singer-songwriter, then the other members joined to form the band. Their song “Let Me Go” released in November 2019, went viral and received 2 million views on YouTube. In 2020, they released their debut EP “FIRST TRIP”. After the pandemic, they experienced their first Japan tour in 2022 and performed with Japanese bands such as never young beach and DYGL, which were enormously well-received by Japanese audiences. In 2023, they released their first full-length album LINGERING GLOAMING.
Twitter：@yonlapaband
Instagram：@yonlapa
Facebook：@yonlapaband
YouTube：@YONLAPA

On September 30 and October 1, the festival called “EPOCHS – Music & Art Collective” was held for the first time in Karuizawa, to celebrate the 100th anniversary of its town government. In conjunction with this event, a collaboration song “Two Kites” had been produced by STUTS, a Japanese producer/composer who performed at the event, in collaboration with Noi Naa, a vocalist of YONLAPA, an indie rock band based in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We spoke with both artists about various topics, including stories around the song’s production, the Thai music scene, and the possibilities for exchange in the field of indie music.

–Could you tell us about what made this collaboration happen?

STUTS: The festival asked me to create a theme song for “EPOCHS ~Music & Art Collective~.” At first, I was working on an instrumental piece, but then we came up with the idea of featuring one of the vocalists who would perform at the festival. I was told about YONLAPA, and when I listened to it, it was so wonderful that I was like, “Let’s make it together with them! ” 

I was immediately drawn to YONLAPA’s music by her voice and melodies. Although it has a soft and organic atmosphere, there are some unusual elements here and there, such as odd meters, which I found very interesting in a good way. I thought they were a fantastic band.

Noi Naa: I have been listening to STUTS’ music for a long time, including the collaboration tune with Phum Viphurit, “Dream Away” (2018), which I thought was wonderful. So, I was delighted to hear about this project. At the same time, putting my vocals on the track was something I had never done before, and I thought it would be a challenging collaboration.

–How did you work on it?

STUTS: I made the track, had my band members add a bit of guitar and clarinet sounds, and Noi Naa added the melody. Since the original version was intended to be an instrumental, there were a few more synthesizer notes than in the finished version. Noi Naa wrote a melody that made the most of those synthesizer phrases. It turned out to be a great collaboration.

–Noi Naa, you wrote the lyrics as well, right?

Noi Naa: Yes, I did. It was a totally different feeling from putting words on a band ensemble, so I rewrote the lyrics many times, adding and subtracting words.

–As exemplified by the word “kite” in the title, the image of “transcending borders,” which is encapsulated by the song, leaves a striking impression on us.

Noi Naa: I heard the keywords like “borderless” and “freedom” when I got an offer for this collaboration, and I thought about them a lot. However, when I listened to STUTS’ track, such an image immediately unfolded inside me. Attracted to the sense of being able to go anywhere and the idea of a world without walls, I started to put what was on my mind into words.

Sharing sensibilities through music

–What, if anything, is interesting about the experience of collaborating with artists from different regions/cultures?

STUTS: It was interesting to feel in the production process that we could share our sensibilities through music, even without detailed communication in language. In addition to a few themes that Noi Naa has just mentioned, I had a vague image associated with the song, which I conveyed to her. The lyrics she wrote were so incredible that made me feel that my inner mental landscape was richly expressed through the music.

The title of the song, “Two Kites,” refers to a piece by Antonio Carlos Jobim, whom I like very much, and that idea came to me when I read Noi Naa’s lyrics.

–Looking back, how was the project for you, Noi Naa? 

Noi Naa: I was very nervous (laughs). I had always thought that collaborating with artists from outside my country would surely result in new music, so this was an excellent opportunity for my future musical practices.

–Looking at the music scene over the past ten years or so, collaborations are increasing, and the sense of distance between artists from different parts of Asia is becoming much closer. Do you feel the same way?

STUTS: I think so. The environment that allows us to listen to various kinds of music without barriers, such as YouTube and streaming, has become the base of our practices.

Noi Naa：I agree. When I was a student, it was not easy to collaborate with other artists, whether in Thailand or abroad. It took a lot of negotiations and coordination to make it happen. As music streaming became more widespread, the world of music expanded, and information barriers disappeared. As STUTS has just mentioned, I feel that music has become a substitute for language, with which we can now communicate. I think that the number of connections and opportunities has increased, and as a result, artists in Asia have been able to build good relationships with each other.

–While technology is advancing, I feel that the importance of the community connected through “people” is also increasing. From the perspective of exchange between artists in Asia, the presence of Mr. Budda Terao of BIG ROMANTIC RECORDS, who has also organized YONLAPA’s Japan tour in 2022, is particularly important.

STUTS: Yeah, absolutely true. When I performed in Taiwan and Hong Kong, Mr. Terao was a great help to me.

Noi Naa：I have always wanted to perform overseas with the band. And when I asked the members which country they wanted to visit, they all answered “Japan.” Then Mr. Terao gave us an offer for a tour in Japan. We can’t thank him enough (laughs).

The real situation of Thailand’s indie music scene

–What is Thai indie music scene is like now?

Noi Naa: The indie scene is thriving now. Major music used to be more exciting, but now the situation is reversed. More teenagers are starting bands, and some bands from the older generation that have been on hiatus for a while are starting up again.

As I mentioned earlier, with the spread of streaming, it has become possible to create and distribute music without labels or auditions freely, and it has become easier for indie musicians to be active compared to the past. Exchanges are taking place in various places, and the scene as a whole is getting bigger and bigger.

–STUTS, have you ever been to Thailand?

STUTS: Yes, I have. I went there to shoot the music video for “Dream Away,” a collaboration piece with Phum Viphurit. I wasn’t able to visit any music venues or clubs then, but I have been familiar with the music of Thai artists since then, such as the band H 3 F from Bangkok.

–I understand that the members of YONLAPA are based in your hometown of Chiang Mai, but is there a different atmosphere from that of the Bangkok scene?

Noi Naa: This is just my personal impression, but the city’s environment and atmosphere are different in the first place. Bangkok, the capital, is a crowded city full of vehicles and buildings, but Chiang Mai is a city in the north surrounded by mountains, so there is a lot of nature and a peaceful atmosphere. It is kind of a free atmosphere where you can drive to the mountains to climb as soon as you feel like it.

This atmosphere is reflected in the sounds and lyrics of Chiang Mai artists. The atmosphere in Chiang Mai has nothing to do with a strong ambition to make a name for oneself or to be commercially successful. In contrast, in the music industry in Bangkok, everyone is focused on how they can sell their music and what kind of needs there are. But again, that’s just my impression (laughs).

STUTS: Are there many bands in the Chiang Mai scene?

Noi Naa: There are a lot of bands, but many of them are not very well known. The challenge in the scene is how to get them to be widely heard. In Chiang Mai, there are almost no labels or backstage staff, and no music venue exists. Everyone plays in music bars. But this situation does not necessarily motivate musicians to go to Bangkok to make a big name for themselves. They all simply love Chiang Mai. The landscape will change once the management system in Chiang Mai is established.

What I want to say is that …we just happened to be approached, and we were really lucky! (laughs)

— Do you want your music to be widely heard globally, without being bound by community or geographical region?

STUTS: I am not particularly focused on a global market, but I have always felt strongly that I would like my music to be heard not only in Japan but also across various borders.

Noi Naa: I am not particularly conscious of “being global” either. Rather, I strongly desire to give form to the music that flows through my head as it is, so that I may be intentionally distancing myself from such ideas.

Of course, I love global music in the first place, and that taste is surely reflected in our music. Objectively speaking, I am sure that the music of Thai artists besides ours will also be accepted in the global field.

— On the other hand, I feel that your music has some elements that are unique to Tokyo and Chiang Mai, where you are based.

STUTS: I am not conscious of this either, but when I write songs while traveling, for example, the air and environment of the place can change my sound on a subconscious level, so the fact that I usually live and work in Tokyo may have an unintentional influence on my songs. Maybe some sort of regionality or some kind of local atmosphere. 

–Noi Naa, how do you feel about this?

Noi Naa: This goes along with what I said earlier, but I feel that if I focus on “how I, as a person living in Chiang Mai, can incorporate the regional character into the music,” I will not be able to express what is genuinely on mind adequately. However, as STUTS said, if I lived in a different place, I would be able to reflect the elements of that place. Also, as I subconsciously feel the land where I am standing now, what I make may naturally reflect the elements of that land. However, my priority is to “express what I am feeling right now.”

–Lastly, the collaboration song “Two Kites” will be performed on stage at “EPOCHS – Music & Art Collective” on September 30. How do you feel now?

STUTS: I am really looking forward to it. We will be performing with a band, so I think people will be able to enjoy the original sounds with a more live music twist.

Noi Naa: I am very nervous (laughs)! I usually sing on stage while holding a guitar, but for Two Kites” I only sing, so I was wondering where I should hold my hands (laughs). But I’m sure it will be a great stage, so I’m really looking forward to it. I hope everyone will come and see it.

Photography Tameki Oshiro
Translation Shinichito Sato

■STUTS, Noi Naa (YONLAPA / from Thailand)　 Digital Single 「Two Kites」
https://stuts.lnk.to/TwoKites

The post STUTS and YONLAPA’s Vocalist Noi Naa, On “Music Beyond Borders”–Asian Collaboration on the Rise appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Honjitsu Kyuen is a rock band based in Kyoto, that has been gaining broader support with its DIY-style and unprecedented musicality. In 2017, one of the members in the band, Toshihiro Noguchi (keyboard/vocal), suddenly passed away—despite the tragic incident, the band gallantly moved forward, done shows and made songs, and in the following year of 2018, they released their third album, I LOVE YOU. In the same year, the band appeared at the Fuji Rock Festival, putting on a passionate and emotional performance, and showing the new side of the band.

Later, guitar/vocal, Takuro Sato left and the band became a three-piece led by Takujyuro Iwade. Iwade has a vast experience in music and been in multiple bands including Sekkin-UFOs and Love Wonderland—the latest album of Honjitsu Kyuen that has recently been announced, MOOD, is imbued with Iwade’s eclectic paradigm, yet has become the most “straightforward” album he has ever crafted. Embodying the band’s cynical and genre-flipping qualities, the album is far from being obscure, and rather candid. Although it is textured with various music elements and has a robust attraction power, it is not omnidirectional nor amiable like their past releases; in fact, it turned out to be a minimal piece.

So, what are the background stories that brought changes to Honjitsu Kyuen? After hearing the stories from the frontman, Iwade, I discovered his deep trust and desire in “POP.”

——How would you describe your days, after you’ve released the previous album, I Love You?

Iwade: After we lost Noguchi in 2017, the four members, including [Takuro] Sato (guitar/vocal,) unanimously agreed to move forward; consequently, we performed really well at live shows, including Fuji Rock in 2018—However, we’ve gotten into a rut. Gradually, Sato was getting emotionally detached from music…he’s now pursuing his career as a programmer, but he says, “I’ll be back when I’m in the mood to do music again,” so I wouldn’t say he had left yet. Meanwhile, we’ve been looking for a new guitarist and keyboardist—but we’ve got no luck.

——After going through such situation, what made you three decide to create the new album?

Iwade: I had a chance to produce parts of Hirobumi Suzuki’s album, and that led Honjitsu Kyuen to perform at Hirobumi’s concert as a backband. We daringly performed, but it went way beyond what we had expected. After that, we’ve done our own live show and it was emancipating, as if we were free from encumbrance. [laughs] We had been concerned that it would sound poorly with only the three of us, but it was totally fine. I’ve liked music with minimal formation like reggae and dub, but I had never thought I’d be able to do that type of music myself. However, after the performance, I’ve realized that, as a matter of fact, I can.

——At the same time, you’ve also started another band, Love Wonderland, that performs lovers rock and reggae music.

Iwade: Yeah. Couple years ago, I suddenly started understanding those types of music. When I listened to artists such as Lee “Scratch” Perry and King Tubby, it hit me like, “Ah! This is it!” I feel like they are similar to the music that I’ve been into—music with ambiguous sound quality that is like a tape distortion—such as Les Rallizes Dénudés and Daisuke Tobari.

——So, you’re saying that you were impacted physically, rather than resonating to the concept of dub?

Iwade: Yeah. It simply felt “good.” Music nowadays would take the elements of a single genre, like reggae, and burnish it too much. Even if they assimilated the genre well on their own, they would interpret it to an extreme extent and end up missing out the important part.

——Regarding what you’ve just said, up until the previous album, it felt like the intellectual ideas of the band members were deftly complimenting one another; but for the latest album, it seems like you’ve stepped away from the old way and made the album more determined and objective.

Iwade: That’s true. We’d always thought that structuring is the most imperative part. We’ve always knew the importance of rhythm, however this time, we put more focus on it. Before, we were prone to embellish the sounds by adding details, yet for this album, we’ve limited the other sections and concentrated more on my rhythm guitar part.

——Also, the sonic images seem to have remarkably improved. Would you say that having Soichiro Nakamura was a big part of this?

Iwade: He was a huge part of it. Basically, we entrusted him with the basic settings including miking and sound production. Normally, we would apply EQ after recording—but this time, he had geared-up the respective instrument beforehand. He let us try out various types of amps, effectors, and guitars in the studio, which affected our performances and helped us define our direction—as well as, bestowing the sense of oneness to the album.

Make songs combined different elements naturally

——At the same time, it’s interesting how each song is mixed with multiple music genres, in the way I’ve never heard before—The genres are not concocted or absorbed, but they are rather conflated into one. For example, the first song of the album, “Uso no Tabi” has a traditional folk melody in the beginning but develops into a city-pop type of sound, and later, the boisterous fuzz guitar comes in.

Iwade: That’s right.

——Track 6, “Zenzen, Shizukana-Mama” is like Buddy Holly, including the way you sing, but has a chaotic bridge that reminds me of The Contortions. Do you constantly contrive and experiment ways to combine different elements together?

Iwade: I’m not seeking ways to “surprise people by doing something different.” It just happens to be that way. When I listen to music, I still use iPod, which plays different music seamlessly. It’s normal for me to listen to free jazz after listening to Buddy Holly; that’s how it’s always been, and I guess, this style reflects directly to the music I make. I’m not quite understanding what’s so special about doing something that is deemed “distinctive.” I’m also wondering why it needs to be looked at differently.

——Track 7, “Suna Otoko no Thema -Midnight Desert Surfin’-” is like Dick Dale playing the riffs of Captain Beefheart’s early songs…. The rhythm of the song is unique.

Iwade: The rhythm of the song comes from the music of the Tuareg people, who inhabit in the north-west part of the African continent. The type of music is called the “desert blues.” I’ve been a fan of the music for a while and incorporating its rhythm in every album.

——Usually, when different genres are mashed-up like this, a metafictional aspect inevitably seeps out; however, this album is an exception—it doesn’t really involve that particular aspect.

Iwade: Up until our second album, we were fervently saying, “no doubt, metafictional stuff is in now!” But suddenly, our minds changed like, “maybe being metafictional is corny?” [laughs] It’s hard to explain, but we just didn’t want to be exuding that “know-it-all” type of air. [laughs] So, we’ve started shifting towards being real and portraying the rawness of our performances.

“stay pop” and the worth of music as the intangible thing

——Also, the exquisite balance of avant-garde and pop, or the dynamism of the contrast between the two has become more significant in the latest album. The sounds are rambunctious, but at the same time, mellow. At first, these factors may seem conflicting, but they actually blend well with each other.

Iwade: Maybe it’s just the accumulation of different sounds. We wouldn’t want to think too hard about balancing different sounds, as it would only weaken the power of the songs. Simply, there are many people who are avant-garde and talented, but there are only handful of people who could play major 7th like The Contortions—and we happen to be one of the few. That’s why we sound like this. However, of course, we strive to “stay pop” as it’s the crucial part about us.

——So, why do you value “being pop” so much?

Iwade: Whenever I listen to music, I feel like I’m focusing on the songs or melodies more. I also like to feel the sound waves while I contemplate.
The songs in our latest album were written when I was anguishing with my relationship and being lost with my emotions. I was questioning myself like, “is this really how I’m supposed to feel when I’m in love…?” As I was ruminating, I started getting lost with other things too, such as about the world and what’s right and wrong. Even during those moments, I noticed that the physical sensations of ‘feeling pop melodies’ and ‘being in the groove’ were the only things certain.

——So, would you say that “being pop” is like a hub that connects yourself with the others…?

Iwade: I would think so. That’s maybe the reason why the music I make needs to be pop.

——Regarding the lyrics, they are overall jaded and nihilistic, yet contain sweet words that may seem nonsense, which reminds me of the pop songs that Phil Spector used to make. It’s fascinating how the lyrics are two-sided.

Iwade: I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been told that my lyrics are nihilistic, but that’s never intended. I think deep down, there’s this feeling of needing to live through life no matter what.
If it’s something you enjoy doing, it’s worth pursuing, even if it seems redundant to others.

——To break it down, I feel like playing music could be deemed as a meaningless and insignificant act from a utilitarian point of view, and it’s trying to figure out a way to become something exceptional or inviolable in society—I’m afraid, this might sound like an existential practice or something.

Iwade: I agree with your point. After all, music is a vital thing that enriches our society. However, these days, music itself is being expected too much, and people think it’s existing with a significant purpose to serve them. I get overwhelmed by listening to different types of music, as I feel their burden. When I see someone on TV commenting like, “this band has these characteristics, therefore, I think they are cool,” I just get annoyed…. [laughs]

——People add comments trying to describe the worth of the intangible thing, however, they are in fact taking its essences away…wait, I just realized that I might be doing the same thing.

Iwade: Well, I often think people who play music are also suffocating themselves by doing too much with it.

——This will be the last question—What are the benefits of being in a band, instead of being a solo musician?

Iwade: Simply, I don’t get sidetracked and lost when making music together with multiple people. Even if we went to an extreme level, before getting into sheer absurdity, we have this consistent groove that springs ourselves back to the ideal state. I think that’s the best part about being in a band. However, I hope we could challenge ourselves more boldly in the future.

Takujyuro Iwade
Born in 1992. Founded the band, Honjitsu Kyuen while studying in Kyoto University in 2012. He has released three records so far, Honjitsu Kyuen, Kemu-Wo-Make, and I Love You. He also produces music for other musicians, and has formed a band, Love Wonderland in 2018, with the concept, “lovers rock in the equinoctial week”—In 2020, the band released the album, Nagai Hiru.

Photography Takuroh Toyama
Translation Ai Kaneda

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In his previous album, Pata Music, Amimori deconstructed and reconstructed pop music. With his latest album, Ex.LIFE, released on January 22nd, he leaves his vocals and dizzying rhythms aside to focus on “honest” melodies on the piano. The result is a tranquil soundscape, vastly different from his earlier album. Before the pandemic started, he struggled to combat the difficulty of creating “pure” music. On Ex.LIFE, however, he lets go. He opens up to alternative ways of thinking brought forth by societal changes and allows his musical experience and expertise to take control. 

While he still maintains his ethos on creating music on his own, the album has a diverse roster of guest appearances: Seiichi Nagai (guitar), Shuta Nishida (guitar), Tomohiko Gondo (euphonium), Kota Sakamoto (tuba), Yoshiki Masuda (mixing console facilitator), tamanaramen (spoken word), and Elena Tutatchikova (spoken word). 

In short, Ex.LIFE isn’t an insular solo album, as there’s a broader social gaze running through it. The music itself might sound like it exists in a vacuum, but it’s closely tied to time and space. We sat down and spoke to the mastermind behind this unique piece of work.

“Honest” music born from changing times

—People say that the reception of music has changed over the year. How has it been for you? 

Shohei Amimori (Amimori): I don’t mean to sound bigheaded, but I’m closer to the ideal image I have of what music should be. Of course, this is a financially trying time for us musicians, but it’s now easier to listen to and create music properly by yourself.

—In an interview about your previous album, Pata Music, it sounded like you had a judgmental outlook on how it’s not about the music itself anymore. Has that situation resolved itself?

Amimori: I believe so. Over the past ten years, there was an overabundance of music created with people’s relationships and their need to communicate as the priority; music was only secondary. Some say the 20th century was the era of mass media consumption. The 2000s was the era of online media consumption, and the 2010s was the era of social media consumption. 

As a result of coronavirus, there’s been a rapid spread of numerous online communication tools, including this Zoom call we’re on for this interview. The issues surrounding this type of technology is being pushed to the foreground thanks to this phenomenon. I’m the type of person who approaches music from that sort of angle, so I’m not good at creating music with “communicating with others” as the incentive (laughs). With my previous album, I started by exploring such issues and solidified the concept before creating it.

—In that sense, it seems as though your newest album is more honest than your previous one.

Amimori: I agree. I learned to accept how I can’t separate myself from my influences and identity as a composer, both of which have been nurtured since I was a child. It’s like, the music that had been a part of me all along came out naturally. 

—Ex.LIFE has minimalistic instrumental tracks and improvised tracks, and I got the impression it was easier to listen to than Pata Music. 

Amimori: You’re exactly right. I built some songs from a particular idea, but this album is the most listenable one out of my whole discography.

—Speaking of ideas, I heard you constructed the seventh song, “Non-Auditory Composition,” in a “non-auditory” manner.

Amimori: Yes. When the instrument players, including myself, played improvisations directly into the mixer, the facilitator turned the monitor sound in our headphones on and off at random. I wanted to document how turning the sound of our instruments on and off affected our hearing and performance. 

—Why did you attempt to carry out that method?

Amimori: The permeation of online communication tools during coronavirus played a big part. For instance, applications like Zoom forcefully equalize white noise created from each person’s surroundings. Meaning, technology is blatantly altering the way we hear sounds. The more we use these tools, the more we have to listen carefully to every single sound to distinguish them from one another. So, I came up with the hypothesis that our hearing sensitivity, or our capability to process sounds, would evolve to be better because of this change in our surroundings. And that led me to compose and improvise a song while the instrument players’ hearing was affected. 

In pursuit of good melodies

—Conversely, many songs off the album have some beautiful, standout melodies.

Amimori: How I capture melodies is a crucial task whenever I create music. When I work for a client, they usually ask me to come up with something catchy. An addictive, catchy song is considered a “good” song, but personally, it’s annoying. I feel like both musicians and listeners of music are losing the ability to differentiate between good and bad melodies. If this keeps on continuing, music will merely be another consumable product. So I thought, “I should investigate what makes a good melody.” 

—I see. What makes a good melody, then?

Amimori: A melody that gently activates the listener; if it makes you want to chase after it, then that’s a good melody. In other words, something that makes you feel the passage of time. I think that’s more universal than “catchy” ones, strictly defined by a rigid formula. 

—For Music Magazine’s March issue of last year, titled “Musicians pick their lifelong favorite album,” you wrote a column on how you add textures that tell a story onto space-time and how you admire music that’s autonomous from outside factors. What you mentioned just now is similar to what you wrote about, in the sense that excellent melodies have a close relationship to time while remaining autonomous.

Amimori: True. I think I subconsciously incorporate both elements into my music. For example, in the twelfth track, “Aphorican Lullaby,” the main melody and background noise, made of field recordings, are merged at first. Gradually, they branch off, and each musical component emerges as a standalone sound. I created that song intending to make the listener want to follow the melody with their own will. 

—Because your music provokes the listener to be active, I feel like it differs from typical ambient music in the narrow sense of the word. 

Amimori: Precisely. 

—But that doesn’t mean your music sounds like it came out of nowhere. For instance, some elements are reminiscent of particular genres like Gamelan, funk, and neo-classical.

Amimori: I had moments where I thought, “This sounds like x, y, z.” But most of that came about naturally, informed by my childhood to now. You know how there was “Iyashikei” (soothing, relaxing music)? Like, compilations with lyrical piano solos, spacious world music, and what not?

—Ah, right. Like image and feel.

Amimori: Yeah. Admitting this is awkward, but I’m now more forthcoming about musical influences like that (laughs). That’s why some musical elements sound like x, y, or z. I think this is especially apparent in music with negative space and cinematic quality. I also think it’s inevitable that the songs reflect the things I learned at the Tokyo University of the Arts. When I was looking back at the musical score I had made upon arranging Taeko Onuki’s orchestra concert, I realized I was trying to emulate Toru Takemitsu in some parts (laughs).

The sophistication and sociability of pop music

—Starting from Taeko Onuki, since your previous release, you’ve collaborated with numerous musicians. Have you gotten any inspiration from your experience with such people?

Amimori: A lot. I’ve gotten deeply inspired by my conversations with Onuki-san. We have a very similar vision of the music we want to make. The same goes for the universality of particular melodies and the sophistication of pop music. As long as it has refinement, it can be pedestrian. 

—”Pedestrian” isn’t the same as “tasteless”?

Amimori: So, even if you have a cheesy, on-the-nose song in the style of Leonard Bernstein, as long as there’s a refined quality to it, then it would have a universal appeal. However, this isn’t the case for pop music calculated from a marketing aspect, as the goal is to get the listener hooked. Onuki-san said, “Ultimately, if the intro and counter-melody are perfect, then you can make a great pop song.” I believe simple, straightforward songs could still have a degree of sophistication if you take a close look at such factors.

—Aside from music, you create installations, sound art, videos, and other multidisciplinary pieces. Why do you continue to get involved in pop music on top of that?

Amimori: Whenever I’m making music or working on art-related things, I can’t help but wonder, “What does it mean for this piece of work to exist in society?” In that sense, pop music is an integral part of society, which is why I can’t stay away from it.

—You mean pop music isn’t fundamentally insular because it exists as a part of society, including the audience?

Amimori: Yes. I have so much respect for the philosopher and critic Hiroki Azuma-san. What he’s doing with Genron (a publishing startup company) isn’t about keeping philosophy an elite thing. He tries to open the discourse up to the public instead. I’m influenced by his ethos too. 

—To create something that’s going to be out in the world, even if you did it alone, is a social activity from the very start, then?

Amimori: Yes. From a micro angle, in music, the volume of sine waves ultimately defines everything, from the tone to the texture. All in all, that’s one form of numerical theory. Now, if you broaden the horizons and shift the focus to society at large, you’ll see that the accumulation and continuation of tiny numerical elements make up society. In this manner, as a quantitative existence, music can’t be divorced from society itself.

—What an intriguing thought. People assume the more you examine music in a reductive fashion, the more anti-social it becomes. But in reality, it’s connected to society.

Amimori: Yeah, that sort of thinking has shaped my understanding of music. For the cover art for Ex.LIFE, I used a text that expresses that abstractly. 

—Could you talk about what you want to do next?

Amimori: To be honest, I think I’m alright with not making a solo album for a while (laughs). Recently, I’ve developed an interest in the concept of ephemerality. I get stimulated whenever I come across sculptures and installations. I’d like to figure out what ephemerality in music means to me and build from there. 

*

Shohei Amimori
Musician and composer Shohei Amimori was born in Tokyo in 1990. He graduated from the Department of Composition at the Tokyo University of the Arts. He also completed a master’s degree from the Graduate School of Music of the same university. As a student, he began composing and arranging classical music and contemporary music and has shown many pieces, such as chamber music and orchestral music. He released his first full-length album, SONASILE, in 2016. In it, he wove together complex electronic sounds with pop melodies. In Pata Music, released in 2018, he conceptually arranged pop music and experimental music. This album caught the attention of various radio stations in Europe, such as the BBC, and was played many times. He also received praise from the U.K. magazine The Wire, among other media. In recent years, he has expanded his musical horizons by creating sound art and other artistic mediums. While producing such works and performances, Shohei Amimori continues to compose and arrange music for Taeko Onuki, DAOKO, and others. He also writes music for commercials and TV programs and collaborates with artists outside of music.
www.shoheiamimori.com
Twitter：@shoheiamimori

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On October 23 2020, overdubbing artist and home-recording musician Urakami Sōki released his long-awaited debut mini-album Music and Private Conversation in streaming-only digital form. Although, I do realize that the expression “long-awaited” is only suitable for musicians who have spent a certain amount of time in his music. Starting with his acclaimed single Art and Treatment released in 2019, Urakami Sōki’s history as a musician in his twenties is still less than two years old. Given his rapid rise in popularity and talent, though, he definitely matches the expression “long-awaited.”

Listening to Urakami Sōki’s music, it reminded me of various artists, rushing through my mind like a torrent: for example, American pop legends and overdub pioneers Van Dyke Parks and Harry Nilsson, and music scores from old animated films like Walt Disney’s and other American classics, which had a significant impact on the previously mentioned artists; Frank Zappa’s avant-garde pop style, and Egberto Gismonti’s, Hermeto Pascoal’s and other progressive Brazilian music; it even resonates with modern alternative and radical funk music by artists such as Vulfpeck and Lewis Cole. Although Urakami Sōki’s music comprises different elements, it is possible to enjoy it without being fixed in a specific mood. Making full use of tricky rhythm ensembles and reharmonization* techniques, his method of continuously rebuilding complex (yet poppy) structures is an extremely original example of the cutting-edge technologies of the current home-recorded music scene, even considering computer composition to be at the center of his process.

In this interview, Urakami Sōki tells us about his production of Music and Private Conversation, as well as revealing his thoughts and future plans, which were shrouded in mystery until now.

*Reharmonization is a technique used to obtain an unusual and effective sound by exchanging the expected chords for a specific melody.

Music has been close to me since I was little

——Could you tell us about your musical background?

Urakami Sōki: Since I was little, I loved listening to music from my mother’s car stereo: The Carpenters, The Beatles, Yumin; even Bill Evans and other jazz artists would play. It may sound kind of impudent now, but compared to the pop music that everyone used to listen to, the music that I’d listen to had a clearer distinction between what I liked and what I hated (laughs).

My first instrument is classical piano, but I used to play in the brass band too. I used to move often because of my parents, but wherever I went, I’d join the local music club for children. I was mainly in charge of percussions. I also had the opportunity to interact with the local grown-up music fans, who often taught me about classical music. 

The radio used to be a big presence in my life, back in middle school: I guess I used to look up songs I liked on the internet, but I loved listening to the radio while studying for my entrance exams, so I would get into the artists I’d find on the radio. When I got into high school, the people I became friends with taught me about classic rock and the indie rock that was popular at the time, so I started listening to those myself. Even for just a cover band, we never had enough people so, in addition to the keyboard, they would make me play guitar, drums and other instruments (laughs). When I started going to university, I became friends with people in the same major as mine and started a band. They would often ask me to support them or arrange their tracks, and that was what I used to do before starting to put out music under my own name.

——Which artists particularly influenced you?

Urakami: One of them is Alan Menken, composer for movies such as Aladdin (1992) and Beauty and the Beast(1991). I’ve always loved Disney movies since I was little and I used to watch them a lot, but I was really more into the music than the content of the movies itself. The charm of his music comes from its dazzling progressions, or rather, from its glittering harmonies, different from serious classical music. I also loved West Side Story (1961, music by Leonard Bernstein) and musicals in general. I’ve always been fascinated by film scores, as well as going to the cinema and watching movies. 

I’ve really liked reading music scores since I was in a brass band. I had this mysterious belief that only the conductor could look at the orchestral scores, so I would read them in secret and imagine what the whole thing would sound like (laughs).

My other influence is Joni Mitchell. At first, I probably learned about her from some Western music radio program. First of all, I was in love with her unique voice. Her songs also had a mysterious charm to them, since they didn’t fit the usual pop AABA structure. All of her phases are great, but I especially like the jazz-based one when she was playing with Jaco Pastorius.

I recognized what I really wanted to do and walked the path of music

——When did you start making music by yourself? How did it connect to what you’re doing now?

Urakami: The start may have been when I was in kindergarten. I used to make my own original melody and lyrics from listening to the supermarket’s music; that was my level back then (laughs). I didn’t have the idea, or rather, I didn’t understand the concept of recording sound at the time, so I would draw five-line staves in a notebook and write the music notes in them.

It was only recently in 2019 that I started my music activity on a professional level. After graduating, my path was already pretty much decided, but at some point, I suddenly threw away my career and everything else and thought about what I really wanted to do; I decided I wanted to make music by myself. From there, I started uploading pieces of covers and original songs online.

——At first, you went by the name of “Urakami Kevin Family.”

Urakami: I started by myself without telling anyone, not even my family or my close friends, and I felt isolated and lonely, so I decided to to go for a fake band or group name, for the time being. I’ve actually been doing this alone, so the loneliness didn’t disappear anywhere (laughs). As I uploaded more and more songs, this fake band setting gradually became hazy, so I ended up changing it to the current name. That’s why the current name “Urakami Sōki” (Sōki means recollection in Japanese) doesn’t really have a solid musical concept behind it.

——You record everything from home, right? What kind of equipment and software are you using?

Urakami: I’ve always been using Cubase as my DAW, since my arranging days. I mainly use software synths, but if you make everything with MIDI programming, it’ll end up sounding digital, so I purposely mix in live instruments. I use cheap microphones, so I particularly process vocals with EQ to give them a unique personality, or to blend them in with the rest of the sound.

——There were different reactions after you uploaded Art and Treatment, but how did you feel about it?

Urakami: At first, the psychological hurdle of letting people listen to my music was hard to jump, and I had many doubts about the mix until the release, but in the end, I was surprised by how many people listened to it; it was beyond my expectations, but I was happy about it. I think about this a lot, but I guess it’s thanks to the development of social media. Until then, I have never seen that happen in front of my eyes, and I’ve come to realize that there are quite a few people like me, making music by themselves; I think that the chances of someone listening to your music have increased a lot.

The fun of reharmonization is a substantial element of music composition

——I heard you talking about the fun of reharmonization in different situations; what exactly do you like about it?

Urakami: I think that the fun of reharmonization, or reconstructing chords, is a substantial factor not only in arranging but in composition too. In my case, I think it’s a sensation that I’ve grown by listening to jazz, and while it’s possible to assemble chords through theory, I think that this sensation plays an essential part in the process. I don’t like to apply some standard chords from the beginning; I’d rather prefer to make my mind go blank and search for the chords that sound comfortable to me for each and every time. 

——Do is it feel like having a complete mental picture of how your song is going to be before starting?

Urakami: I guess it does. “Mitsudan” (In Japanese, secret talk) is part of the album’s title, so most of the tracks and songs in the album are directed towards the inner me. I guess I based the concept on how the inner me interacts with his mental image of music. However, in reality, many things don’t go as planned, and when you make music by yourself, there is no room for other people’s opinions or happy accidents to come in. On the other hand, if you let your track sit for around three days, it will sound really weird, or you’ll notice elements you weren’t aware of; it’s interesting how letting time pass can provide a different perspective.

——When I think of computer-programmed music, I tend to think of it as having some kind of loop-like structure, but in the case of your music, it feels like it’s moving from one place to the next at a tremendous speed, without looping back to one place. It feels like I’m looking at some magnificently detailed one-stroke calligraphy.

Urakami: Through harmony, I want to express my colorful and continuously changing mental image of music. I think it would be interesting to be able to see the transitions of colors in the sound.

——On the other hand, each track is made to be a standalone pop song with vocals, too. I felt that most of the lyrics descriptively portray a mental landscape after deciding for a specific “viewpoint,” rather than just “expressing your inner self.”

Urakami: Every one of my songs contains some kind of opinion or claim about something, but I do feel somewhat embarrassed to write such lyrics straightforwardly. I guess I’m tired of “things with meaning,” or rather I pay attention not to be overly logical. While having a firm core interior message, I’m trying to make the exterior as interesting and fun as possible. 

I want to become someone else’s “motivation to live”

——In a press release, you stated that even in such a time, you still have an unexpected desire to question the significance of music, culture and art. Could you further explain what you meant?

Urakami: Recently, with the corona pandemic as an example, there has been a lot of dark news, and I feel like many times I’ve ended up tormenting myself with worry. At times like this, I end up questioning the existential meaning of culture and art, but in a world where there is no choice but to stay inside, art can act as some sort of comfort or motivation; I want to believe in its power to create a shelter, a world of new understanding inside people, which releases them from the binding spell they’re under, without them even realizing it. That’s why, as a creator, I create with the desire to purposefully elevate what was once “waste” into a beautiful stimulant. It may sound presumptuous, but I’d be happy if I could become someone else’s “motivation to live.”

——Can you tell us about your future plans?

Urakami: This time, I wanted to make music as well as the jacket artwork and music videos all by myself, and I’ve actually accomplished that, but to be honest, I did feel lonely after all.  I think this might be the last time I do everything by myself (laughs).

That’s why now I’m interested in making music with band instruments again. I’ve always liked minimal funk music, so I’m thinking of using that as a base and combine overdubbing with the appeal of physical performance to create something new.

That and, I’d like to gradually start playing live again.

Urakami Sōki
Urakami Sōki is an overdubbing artist and home-recording musician who started his music career suddenly in January of 2019. On Twitter, notorious musicians gave words of praise to his music uploaded on YouTube and other social media, gaining support from fans beyond his expectations. He started performing live from this fall, and in 2020, he released his new single Nuovo Cinema Paradiso thus further expanding his fanbase. His song Naive Nocturne is the ending theme for the TV series Meikenchiku de Chūshoku wo and was released as a single on August 21. On October 23, he released his first mini-album Music and Private Conversation .
YouTube：https://www.youtube.com/c/SoukiUrakam
Twitter：@urakamifamily
Instagram：＠urakamifamily

Translation Leandro Di Rosa

The post Overdubbing Artist / Home-Recording Musician Urakami Sōki and his Journey into Music appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Masaya Mifune of Roth Bart Baron stated, “in 2020, something will change the world completely” upon releasing their previous album, The Name of the Beasts in November 2019. He didn’t say what would happen, but as he predicted, we are amid a universal shift.  

As the pandemic worsened, so too did Roth Bart Baron’s circumstances; they had to call off their show at Meguro Persimmon Hall, which was supposed to be the band’s biggest show yet, and they had to cancel the preceding album’s release tour midway. Furthermore, one of the original members, Tetsuya Nakahara, left the band.  

This renewed band, where Masaya Mifune takes the lead, pushed their hardships to the side and immersed themselves in creating something different. They released Loud Color(s) & Silence Festival within a year since their last album. The band started making the album in isolation, and it seems like they bore the ripest fruit of their long career. Who would have thought the joy and madness of playing as an ensemble could manifest as an impressive album during these past few terrible months?  

We’re unable to engage in festive activities physically, but Roth Bart Baron’s music reverberates through the space between you and me, and thus- a unique celebration is born. The band has honed its highly dynamic alternative folk-rock sound, which is their key feature and has interwoven various sounds created by trustworthy backup band members. Roth Bart Baron has entered their next phase.  

Making something that can only be made when people come together 

“During times like these, some people might assume, ‘music is a fleeting, fickle thing.’ You could say the same about things such as systems that run the city. We used to believe they were substantive, but this pandemic exposed their brittle nature. In that regard, music is not tangible, but the essence is so dominant. Of course, it’s evident that musicians struggle financially, so they should be compensated fairly.  

 have had tough times as an ordinary citizen. I’ve also experienced one member leaving the band. It was like my house caught on fire because the entire world is on fire. When something awful happened amidst this huge chaos, I didn’t feel it was real. I didn’t have time to feel sorry for myself because I had to figure out how to proceed with the band after not being able to play live. All over the world, people are suffering more than us, and even when I look at the shops in my local neighborhood, I see shopkeepers selling food in front of their shops because they can’t run it as they would normally. There are so many resilient people fighting through this. I felt more positive, as I realized that I also have to move forward.”  

This sense of unwavering positivity is prominent on the album too.  

“To be honest, when I was first making the songs, I didn’t have a single ounce of desire to create music made for people to enjoy the rich fullness or intricacies of. Some works of iconic artists have an almost idyllic-looking exterior because something agonizing and tragic happened to the artist, such as them battling issues they had with themselves. Well, I reached a point where I didn’t want to create low-spirited music with subdued musical elements. That type of music does not move people’s hearts. Foremost, I thought about how I could deliver something real while maintaining the enthusiasm we have as a rock band to the world; how could we extract that quality as much as possible? 

In terms of the sonic side of things, I wanted to have an even more detailed approach. Takuro Okada, who plays guitar, and I talked about this a lot, but we got very inspired by Blake Mills’ Mutable Set. Listening to it now, it could seem like there are elements that are way too personal, but it has a sense of physical pleasure, and the way he places the sounds is so skilled. It made me realize that there are approaches to sound that I’ve never discovered before. 

Regarding the recording, I thought having a remote recording session would be one temporary method, but I felt like we wouldn’t have been able to come out with above-average music. Luckily, a certain number of people could get together after June here, and I wanted to create something that could only be created when people come together. We played together after not playing with other people for a long time, right after they lifted the emergency announcement. It was like reverting to a childlike feeling, where we were all like, ‘this is so fun.’ That left an impression on me. We felt genuine joy, and I think a fresh new sound, with a strength that exceeded my expectations, was born. Even when we listened back to the recording, we knew that we had made something brilliant. It was a ‘festival.’”  

 Intangibility is the essence of “… Festival” 

Masaya explains that “festival,” which is one word included in the title, was a vital concept for the album. He used the term in hopes of it going beyond its semantic meaning.  

“I believe festivals don’t have a center, but it allows so many people to share their joy. For instance, at festivals, you’ll spot people dancing without looking at the stage or people eating as they sway to the music. It may look like it’s all over the place, but that means there’s an element of fun everywhere you look. Like, the artist isn’t spreading that joy; the happiness each person feels bursts from the inside. Even with sports games, it’s normal for people to pay attention to superhuman athletes on the field, but each person in the audience feels passionate about the game through their emotions. I don’t think there’s a center for the crowd’s zealous enthusiasm towards a particular game.  

Going back to coronavirus, don’t you think there’s this oddly refreshing sense of liberation from the halt of capitalism? The incentives that fueled capitalism, such as various economic activities and new products and services, stopped for a while. At that moment, I had an inkling that we could bring more primitive festivals back to life. Right after the previous release and before the pandemic, I had written ‘festival’ on a piece of paper with an ink brush and had it up on my bedroom wall. I felt like this word came to me in an even more vivid way during this situation. 

Traditional music events and other events, where people physically get together, are forbidden for now, but I reckoned it was possible to create a festival solely through the music itself. Like I mentioned in the beginning, music isn’t something you can physically touch, as it’s a series of vibrating air particles. I think that intangible quality is the reason a lot of festivals in history have focused on music. Having a big audience is only the second requirement for festivals then. That intangibility is the real essence of festivals. For example, there was a musical ensemble that played music until the Titanic sunk completely. I can’t help but feel like in that scenario, music was a prayer and something with a festive spirit.”  

Wanting to create “grand” music on a fundamental level 

One characteristic of their latest album is their exploration of perspectives that come from non-human creatures, which is a running theme in their previous album, The Name of the Beasts too.  

“Some songs were made before coronavirus, but I feel like staying at a small cabin in a remote mountain before the recording process was huge. There were wild boars and deer roaming everywhere, and the greenness made it seem as though nothing had changed in the woods. I realized this turmoil we are going through is only tragic for us human beings, on a deep level. By perceiving everything through a human perspective, we fall into awful situations. I pondered how we could overcome this upon writing the lyrics. Yes, words were created by people, but I wanted to let go of words from the point of view of a suffering person, like… For example, in ‘Gokusai | IGL (S),’ there’s a phrase that goes like, ‘Don’t let that ruin your story.’ Those words came out of me precisely because I was in the woods.  

The “loud colors” on the album naturally relate to the notion of diversity, alongside “festival.” It’s an attempt to dissolve the division between people. It’s a sign of the times and is seen as the opposite thing of diversity.  

“I reckon we arbitrarily decide the way we understand the zeitgeist, based on division. Greta Thunberg’s remarks about climate change don’t benefit or harm a specific organization. This problem concerns all of humanity, regardless of differing ideologies. Debates for and against her remarks stir up, and who said what matters more than what was said because they shifted the focus on Greta herself. By repeating this cycle, we forget the most imperative thing, which is the fact that the ship we’re all on is sinking. This goes to BLM too. People talk about who is enemies with who, instead of relating to one another based on the conditions and history that led to the burst of anger. Perhaps that’s because of our lack of imagination. Perhaps we’re obeying the rules created by rule makers too much. I think it could be a good thing if there’s a massive shift where people say, make a handball offense in a soccer game as a move that’s directly against the ground rules. I have done a lot of things that weren’t the norm to survive as a band (laughs).  

Hmm… what I want to say is, ‘division isn’t trendy.’ Or, ‘we don’t have time to make division trendy.’ I want to look at things from a macroscopic perspective. Maybe this is reflected in my music. Rather than nicely arranging distinct elements, like a beautiful garden, I’ve always wanted to create ‘grand’ music on a fundamental level.” 

Lastly, he spoke about his enthusiasm for the band’s nationwide tour, which starts this month. 

“First off, we want to play good music like always, and deliver that to the audience in the best way. Coronavirus hasn’t been eradicated yet, and things will continue to be perilous, but I want to learn how to deal with that right now. I also think we need to get a grasp on how to foster a festival or festive space according to the situation we’re presented with, or else things will only get harder.  

All musicians, including ourselves, are still in the first grade with understanding the guidelines regarding this pandemic. But we can’t be first graders forever. Even if the pandemic ends in the best fashion possible, it’s tough to revert our newfound values to the way they were. Streaming will probably exist alongside live performances too. I hope to pay attention to a variety of things while having fun playing music under these new circumstances.” 

ROTH BART BARON
New Album, Loud Color(s) & Silence Festival 
(CD)¥ 3,000  

ROTH BART BARON is a Tokyo-based folk-rock band centering on Masaya Mifune (vocals/guitar). They released their first album, ROTH BART BARON’S The Ice Age in 2014. In November 2019, they released their fourth album, The Name of the Beasts, and received third place in Music Magazine’s Rock music category, alongside other awards from music media. They founded a community called Palace in 2018 and started their band management agency. They were awarded the Apple Vinegar Music Award 2020, founded by Asian Kung-fu Generation’s Masafumi Gotoh. They released their new album, Loud Color(s) & Silence Festival on October 28th, 2020, and are now on their nationwide release tour. 
https://www.rothbartbaron.com

Photography Toki
Transration Lena-Grace Suda

The post The current phase of Roth Bart Baron; On the essence of Loud Color(s) & Silence Festival appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

There’s a certain artist who released his first album, “Kwaidan” out of the blue in 2018, which was then selected as one of Pitchfork’s “Best Experimental Albums” of the same year. The following year he released “Komachi,” his second album, and received praise from listeners and critics both in and out of Japan. He’s one of the most talked-about ambient/electronic artists right now; and his name is Meitei.

For Japanese listeners, the unique “lost Japanese mood” he emits in his work sparks a feeling of nostalgia; it reawakens the collective memory. His music makes his foreign listeners feel a sense of both interest and sorrow for a culture that was lost, and he does this in a way that goes beyond the box of orientalism.

His latest album, “Kofu” is going to be released through notable Singaporean label, KITCHEN. LABEL on September 27th. It features old Japanese film and recording samples as well as beats that are reminiscent of Hip Hop. This project is an ambitious departure that incorporates techniques he hadn’t used in the first two albums.

The Hiroshima-based musician usually shies away from the spotlight and carries an air of mystery about himself. We sat down and spoke to him about his sonic history as well as what “ambient” and “lost Japanese mood” mean to him.

He starts: “I used to go to Esmod Japon and wanted to work in the fashion industry. It’s not like I was especially passionate about music. But when I was around 20 years old, I came across John Frusciante’s solo album, ‘Niandra LaDes and Usually Just a T-Shirt’ (1994) and I was so impacted by it. I went to buy a guitar immediately and from that point onwards, I became immersed in it.

After I graduated, I worked in an unrelated field for a bit. Around ten years ago, I made up my mind to be serious about songwriting. I was inspired by artists from Warp Records as well as other brilliant musicians and was still looking for my own voice. I would play the guitar in a peculiar way and record it on two cassette recorders. I then transferred that to a sampler machine to edit the sounds. I kept on developing that skill. I use a DAW software now but I’ve actually never touched a synthesizer before.”

Since then, he’s been creating music for the stage, as well as background music for stores as a professional songwriter. How did he get to the point of debuting as an artist with the release of “Kwaidan” in 2018?

“I had always made my own tracks aside from work, but I just never showed it to anybody. ‘Kwaidan’ was the first album that I was satisfied with, so I uploaded it onto Bandcamp and a Singaporean label called Evening Chants stumbled upon it and then released it. I was so surprised by how my work reached other people like that.”

Meitei’s acute understanding of the times and formative experiences that birthed “lost Japanese mood”

Just how was the concept of “lost Japanese mood” born?

He explains, “Most of the stuff I used to listen to was from different countries, and one day I redirected my attention to domestic music. I realized there was something that was off. Despite it being called ‘Japanese music,’ most of it has turned into ‘Tokyo music’ without us realizing it. When you listen to foreign songs, you can tell that there are different elements depending on the region, but with Japanese music, even if a certain artist lives outside of Tokyo, I feel like they try to create this sound that comes from a fictional, imaginary version of Tokyo. Even if you look at the roots of Japanese music, you’ll see that there are a lot of it belongs in the ‘Western pop music’ category. And somehow, that’s regarded as ‘Japanese’ music. I feel like our level of consciousness towards still-existing traditional Japanese scenery, like a snow-capped ‘Jizo’ stone statue or the reflection of the moon on a water surface in the countryside, is low.

I have this sense of anger towards this attitude of creating and playing ‘Japanese’ music without really, truly thinking about it. I thought it was only right for me to dig deep into history, and think about what it means to create music in modern-day Japan.”

It may seem challenging to access a “lost” Japan to channel that into sounds, but the artist states that his childhood memories are what made this possible:

“The house I grew up in was a very old house. Until middle school, we used to heat the bathtub by burning firewood, that’s how old it was (laughs). We had a storage room in the basement where we preserved grains and vegetables. My grandmother worked at a temple nearby, so I would go there with her every day to light up incense sticks. Living in that ‘Japanese’ environment was formative for me.”

Looking back at the past may cause one to fall into the depths of rosy retrospection (“Japan in the olden days was much better”). In other words, it could be one form of confirmation bias. However, Meitei rejects such warm, fuzzy feelings in his songs. Rather, his soundscape has a sense of urgency concerning the present. Figures such as The Caretaker and Burial come to mind; these British artists turn the notion of nostalgia on its head and carves out an almost ghostly, haunting world.

Meitei says, “My tracks have been compared to them before but I’ve never consciously tried to be like them. I only recently heard about The Caretaker from my agent when I went to a convention held in Barcelona in March (laughs). I feel like my music carries the old Japanese sentiment, ‘all things must pass.’ All things go through birth, decay, and death. So, it’s not as though I’m saying that we should preserve good, old-fashioned objects. I try to capture other stuff, such as the air surrounding some old, forgotten house in the mountains, the texture of spiderwebs in said house, and the yellowish color and smell of paper that the former resident left there.”

It could be said that the primary focus of “Kofu” is on the types of people that used to exist. Songs such as “Oiran Ⅰ,” “Oiran Ⅱ,” and “Nyoubou” are especially impactful, as the titles point to the roles of women in the past.

“I was so inspired when I looked into the lives of women in the Joo and Meireki period of the Edo era. For instance, courtesans that were popular in Yoshiwara were called ‘Katsuyama’ and there were high-ranked courtesans called ‘Oiran.’ I also looked into Otajiro Kawakami’s wife, Sadayakko (Kawakami). I couldn’t help but feel deeply empathetic when I saw pictures and photos of such women during that time. They had such fierce experiences and yet, they tried to live earnestly. My heart skipped a beat when I saw these photos that T. Enami, a photographer that was active in the Meiji period, took of women. Of course, there are many wonderful photos today but looking at his photos, you’re hit with the realization that there will never be anything like it. You can also easily imagine what sort of lives the subjects in his photo led.

Upon thinking about expressing the feelings I felt from looking at his photography, I discovered that the techniques I had used up until that point weren’t going to be enough. That’s why I decided to sample sounds from other parties. It was my first time doing it and at times I got so overwhelmed with emotion that I started crying.”

On tracks that blur the line between time and space, and the possibility of ambient/electronic music

In recent years, ambient music has made a big comeback in the scene and Meitei’s tunes get critically acclaimed in those spaces. What does he think of the term, ambient?

“To be honest, I didn’t know that ambient music was popular in the world until the people I work with abroad told me about it when I was about to release ‘Kwaidan’ (laughs). There’s a part of me that thinks it’s a bit intriguing that people look at my songs that way but another part of me understands it. I mean, my music tries to express unconventional matters such as old sceneries that existed in Japan a long time ago, so I get it. When I was making ‘Komachi,’ I went to Utano, Kyoto every night to think about how I could translate the air and environment there into sounds. In other words, the songwriting process began after I interacted with the actual environment and scenery. So, I do think my work has the features of ambient music in terms of that aspect. With ‘Kwaidan,’ before anything else, I aimed to change my environment so that it reflected the music. I lost over ten kilograms and let my hair grow freely. I only worked at night (laughs).

But I do think ‘Kofu’ has some elements of Hip Hop. Some bits simply aren’t ambient. The label, staff, and I are all like, ‘so what in the world is this genre, then?’ (laughs).”

If the boundary between ambient music and its environment is ambiguous, then the same could be said about Meitei’s tracks. On top of blurring the confines of physical space, it’s almost as though his tunes could melt the realm of linear time. This exact quality is the idiosyncrasy of “lost Japanese mood” that continues to garner high praise.

Meitei says, “I feel like the possibilities surrounding ambient and electronic music are bigger than ever before. Whenever I listen to Japanese pop music, I can’t help but feel like the musician in question projects their intense thoughts or say, feelings of isolation a bit too much. It’s excessive. To me, it goes beyond the desire to convey a certain message; it sounds like they’re saying ‘please, please someone understand me.’ Such lyrics reflect the current state of society here, which is fragile and unhealthy. I believe being a musician is something sensitive people could do. Their words depict the reality of Japan. Since reality is hopeless, this inevitably leads to the lyrics being too self-conscious and brittle. When such content spreads far and wide, the feeling of hopelessness reflected in the music accumulates too. Isn’t entertainment supposed to provide comfort?

In that respect, electronic music doesn’t necessarily try to preserve that level of self-consciousness, to begin with. It offers a different perspective that exists outside of language, but it’s not the same as escapism either. Electronic music is an alternate way to incorporate wellbeing into one’s daily life.”

We asked him what he wants to do in the near future.

“There’s a lot of things I would like to do. Firstly, I want to produce music for international artists. I listen to a lot of K-pop and when I hear them sing in Japanese, it makes me feel more emotional than listening to a Japanese person sing in that Japanese. I think it’s because there’s none of that manipulation or hyper self-awareness that people have when they speak their mother tongue. It’s more like, ‘I’m going to sing this now.’ There’s a raw honesty there. I asked a Russian artist that I know to read one line from ‘Man’yoshu’ (an anthology of poems from the 8th century) and I felt this strange feeling that I had never experienced before. I reckon it would be cool to be able to express that with music.”

Meitei
He is a Hiroshima-based artist. To date, he’s released two albums on foreign labels: “Kwaidan” (2018), an album focused on the theme of ghosts and ghouls, and “Komachi” (2019), an album exploring the theme of nighttime. His music was used for the official promotion video for Sonar Festival 2020 in Spain. He also performed at MUTEK ES in Barcelona this March. He also produces music for a wide array of fields such as theater, films, and fashion.

Translation Lena-Grace Suda

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