On November 18th, musician Keiichiro Shibuya performed Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy,” his new piece using an android, piano, and electronic instruments, for the closing ceremony of the Lisbon Film Festival held in Portugal.

Lisbon Film Festival is an international film festival with film producer Paulo Branco, known for his work for esteemed Portuguese filmmakers like Manuel De Oliviera and Pedro Costa, as the director. The festival was held for the 17th time this year (2023 at the time of writing). Prominent names such as Francis F. Coppola, David Lynch, and Wim Wenders have previously participated in the festival. Aside from showing films this year, the festival presented a conversation with Pedro Costa and masterclasses by celebrated film directors like Leos Carax and Ryusuke Hamaguchi.

Artists from a plethora of fields outside of film joined as well. Laurie Anderson gave a lecture, world-renowned violinist Gidon Kremer played a concert, and so on. Keiichiro Shibuya’s Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy” was chosen to close off the Lisbon Film Festival, filled with exciting programs.

The 50-minute piece comprised Shibuya playing the piano and an analog synthesizer/noise generator, using android Alter4’s singing as the centerpiece. Harnessing sounds and noises, he played his iconic songs, like “Scary Beauty” and “Midnight Swan,” as well as the eponymous track of the performance. 

How did he take on the performance, and what did he aim to express? As he builds a steady career in film scoring, which films and soundtracks have shaped him? We set out to discover the answers in our interview. 

Keiichiro Shibuya
Keiichiro Shibuya graduated from the Tokyo University of the Arts with a B.A. in Music Composition. His work encompasses various mediums, from innovative electronic music to piano solos, operas, film scores, and sound installations. He’s based in Tokyo and Paris.
In 2012, Shibuya composed a Vocaloid opera with no human performers, The End, starring Hatsune Miku. The performance premiered at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris and has since toured around the globe. He collaborated with various artists and showed the opera at venues such as the Palais de Tokyo and Opéra national de Paris. In 2018, he composed the Android Opera®︎, Scary Beauty, which utilizes AI and stars a singing android that also conducts an orchestra. The opera has been shown in Japan, Europe, and the UAE. In August 2021, Shibuya’s opera, Super Angels, had its world premiere at the New National Theater Tokyo. In March 2022, he brought his new Android Opera®︎, MIRROR, a collaboration between an android, Buddhist music, shomyo, and an orchestra from the UAE, to Expo 2020 Dubai. In June of 2023, he showed the complete 70-minute version of the same opera at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris; it was a success and was met with a lot of attention from the local media. In October, Shibuya presented his new dialogic piece, IDEA, using two androids at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa. 
Furthermore, he has also scored for many films. In September 2020, he created the soundtrack for Midnight Swan and won the 75th Music Award at the Mainichi Film Awards and the 30th Japan Movie Critics Award. In 2022, he composed the soundtrack for KAGUYA BY GUCCI, a short film, and appeared in it with an android. 
ATAK：http://atak.jp
X：@keiichiroshibuy
Instagram：@keiichiroshibuy
Photography Claude Gassian

Creating a compelling performance and sound even in an era of high information density

—How did your performance at the Lisbon Film Festival come about? 

Around this spring, after the press release for my android opera MIRROR at the Théâtre du Châtelet was released (editor’s note: the performances were on June 21st, 22nd, and 23rd, 2023), they sent me an offer via email. One of the programs at the festival was called “Artificial Intelligence and Creation,” and they told me what I do would fit perfectly. 

Lisbon Film Festival is an important festival where Paulo Branco, known for producing films like Ossos by Pedro Costa, is the director. I knew of it prior to this. We had a meeting over ZOOM, and they were highly intellectual people. Aside from film showings, the content was exciting; they also had Laurie Anderson’s talk and world-renowned violinist Gidon Kremer’s live performance on the lineup. That’s why I decided to accept the offer.

—I watched your performance via a video. It was a perfect performance, spanning around 50 minutes, including experimental sounds and noises, your well-known songs like “Scary Beauty” and “Midnight Swan,” and your new song, “Seeds of Prophecy.” What was the intention behind the structure of Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy”?

When I first got approached, I initially thought I’d wait around 10 to 20 minutes because there’d be other performing artists since it was the closing event. But once I properly checked the information, I realized I would be the only performer and that there would also be an admission fee (laughs). That’s why I decided to build a live set that would stand on its own as a solo performance. 

But considering the venue and whatnot, getting a local orchestra like I did for MIRROR in Paris would’ve been difficult. As a result of discussing whether there was another option numerous times, we landed on a set made up of just an android and me.

It’s becoming harder to have big shows like MIRROR, where there was an android, orchestra, and film crew, in Europe. Because of these circumstances, I had set out to create a compact performance with an android before this offer came. So, it was an excellent opportunity to do just that.

—It was a minimal set-up with just the android and you, but it was an extremely powerful performance. 

I often think about what information density looks like in music. Just like the techno scene can only progress, information density in the world will only continue to increase. It won’t decrease. I try to create performances that are effective in such a society. 

This applies not only to concepts and structures but to each tone of sound. In terms of the texture of electronic instruments, the amount of sonic information and depth are completely different when playing a recorded track on your computer versus playing a synthesizer or noise generator live.

Speaking from that perspective, how we understand the quality of sounds is changing drastically. During the 2000s and 2010s, sounds that had a lot of pressure, super low sounds, and sounds that made you physically shocked or stimulated your senses were dominant. I was also into that sound, but people quickly got used to it. Recently, I’ve been thinking about how low and high-frequency sounds need to be purer or have a fresh, pleasant feeling that could expand the senses. For instance, these noise generator-like synthesizers, Monos and Duos, from Hikari Instruments, which is a Japanese modular synthesizer manufacturer, that I’ve been using lately emit such sounds. They’re instruments that are like electronic circuits, so they’re pretty random. You can’t predict what kind of sounds will come out, so it’s fun to prioritize the purity of how they sound and play them live.

 Behind “Prophecy”—hope for a world to come

—Taking into consideration the state of the current world, your new song, “Seeds of Prophecy,” resonates in an evocative way, with Alter’s impressive singing, the title, and lyrics like “For a world where peace can truly be found” and “Seeds can thrive or perish / it’s your choice.” What was the intention behind the song? 

Since I started performing with androids, I’ve been constantly thinking about what to make the android sing. Words are essential. For the songs in Scary Beauty, I used texts based on the posthumous works of Wittgenstein and Yukio Mishima and pieces of Michel Houellebecq’s and William S. Burroughs’ works for the lyrics. I wanted to create this contrast in which the android and AI sing about posthumous works and death, which don’t exist for them. 

For my performance for PRADA MODE in May, I made the AI study the situation the android was going to be in that day, the fact that it was going to be an event organized by Prada, other performers, the location, Tokyo Metropolitan Teien Art Museum, and so on. I tried to make the android/AI generate its own thoughts about this information and sing about them. I felt like it was an interesting direction to take. 

You know how I performed on Hodo Station after that in July?

—Alter, the android, referenced the government, expo, and media and sang lyrics like, “Why are there some news you can’t broadcast?” and “I will become the messenger of the truth.” The performance was met with a lot of responses on social media. 

It was interesting to see people react like, “AI doesn’t try to read between the lines compared to humans; it’s honest.” In a way, they’re correct. In an artistic context, it was both performance art and a social experiment. 

Going back to “Seeds of Prophecy,” if the schema for this performance was “an android that gives political messages,” it would’ve been too on-the-nose, so I went with the form of a prophecy. Like music, prophecies could affect someone somewhere, like a seed that flies far away and blooms into a flower. For such language, scattered like seeds, I made the AI study a vast amount of news on global turmoil and conflicts, like Russia and Gaza, then sing along to my synthesizer and piano.

I see the android/AI as a messenger, so calling it a prophet was valid. My favorite synthesizer is Prophet-5, so I always wanted to use the word “prophecy.”

Why Shibuya is drawn to Godard and Straub-Huillet

—I heard there was an installation based on Jean-Luc Godard’s The Image Book at the film festival. 

Fabrice Aragno, the cinematographer for Godard’s later works, created an installation inside and outside this big building using footage and audio from The Image Book. I was introduced to him at a dinner for people involved in the festival, and I spoke to him about many things because I love The Image Book. Later, I looked at his installation while he explained it to me; it was a stunning and poetic installation where videos were projected on cloths, and fragments were played randomly on a monitor at the base of a tree in the garden. 

—What makes Godard’s films appealing to you? As a musician, is there anything you feel from his work? 

The way Godard uses music is crude, in a good way. For instance, he used many of ECM’s music because they supported him. But there’s this alienation effect-like thrill born from such groundlessness. In JLG/JLG – Self-Portrait in December (1995), he uses music by Hindemith and (Arvo) Pärt, who aren’t mainstream in Western music history, and then pops in a string quartet by Beethoven. That makes everything sound different.

Also, delays in Godard’s own narration embody this groundless crudeness. Yuji Takahashi-san and I were talking about computers and electronic music long ago. He said, “Rather than everything being complete inside the computer, things won’t be interesting unless there’s a human hand involved from outside the computer.” He said that’s what dub is. Godard’s delay in narration is directly connected to what Yuji-san said about dub.

—Aside from The Image Book and JLG/JLG – Self-Portrait in December, do you have other Godard films you like? 

You can’t understand the meaning of Germany Year 90 Nine Zero at all if you just watch it because there are a lot of visual and literary references, but I love it because it’s like an overpowering hour-long video art. Regarding Our Music, when I saw the prior film, In Praise of Love, it didn’t hit the spot. I thought, “Godard’s grown old now,” but Our Music was like his comeback for me. It was great. I saw it in theaters around three times when it came out. 

—Aside from Godard, which film directors did you watch when you were younger? 

Straub-Huillet. Like Godard’s Germany Year 90 Nine Zero, I watched their films as though they were video art, not films. Today, I control stories in my android operas and performances and have developed an interest in things with narratives, but I wasn’t always this way. Straub-Huillet’s films had powerful visuals, of course, and their conceptual method of recording sound in one take using a monaural mic that came with the camera was exciting. I used to watch their films a lot.     

—Did you watch any Japanese films?

I liked Kenji Mizoguchi when I was in high school, and so I used to watch his films. Of course, I watched Yasujiro Ozu’s works, too. I understood the significance of his works, but Mizoguchi’s films spoke to me so much more. I realized that maximalist things matched my sensibilities more than minimal things. 

I also loved Takeshi Kitano’s films. And I also really liked Yoshimitsu Morita’s The Family Game. I love Straub-Huillet so much that I have many of their DVDs, but that was a longing for staticity. I am not a Straub-Huillet-like human being. 

What lies at the core of a film composer

—Were there any soundtracks you listened to as a student? 

I loved Ennio Morricone. This might come as a surprise, but I listened to the soundtrack to The Mission often. I, of course, listened to (Ryuichi) Sakamoto-san’s discography, too. No one in my generation was unaffected by him. I also remember frequently listening to Michael Nyman in university. I used to listen to him when I was young, but I started listening to Bernard Herrmann again recently. I look at his scores online, and it’s made me realize how great he was. 

—Were you interested in making soundtracks then? 

I thought, “I’m probably going to compose film scores one day” as a student. This is obvious, but you can’t score a film alone, as someone has to ask you to do it. 

—The first film you made a soundtrack for is Yosuke Nakagawa’s Blue Fish, which came out in 1999. How did that come about? 

There was a festival called Morphe that was held in Aoyama, and Yuji Takahashi-san and I were asked to have a one-night concert that was half-improvised and half-not in 1995, back when I was still a student. This person watched it and approached me. The main theme song I made then is “Blue fish,” which is on for maria.

—After that, you produced various soundtracks. At the closing ceremony of the Lisbon Film Festival, you performed “Midnight Swan,” which is the theme song for the film Midnight Swan. You won the Music Award at the Mainichi Film Awards and the Japan Movie Critics Award—a double win. As such, you’ve built quite a career as a film composer. What’s something you keep in mind when you make soundtracks? How does it differ from creating other types of music? 

The less music a film has, the better. But in many cases, things don’t go that way. Often, the power of music is necessary in films. Of course, I try various things, like watching the film and exploring sounds on the spot or adding sounds here and there, but I always try to draw up a general plan. There’s this concept called leitmotif, which Wagner used in operas. For instance, let’s say there’s melody A for a male protagonist and melody B for his lover, a female protagonist; when the two meet, those two melodies come together to create a song. It’d be too conventional to do that with my own operas, but films are clearly temporal art, and many of them have stories, so the leitmotif technique is effective. In Midnight Swan’s case, there are respective themes for characters and situations, like the girl, rain, and dance. Those themes combine to create the main theme song, “Midnight Swan.”

—Your career and modes of expression are only further diversifying, as exemplified by your commercial music like “Midnight Swan,” large-scale android operas, and conceptual experimental works like IDEA at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa.

How do you balance them all? 

The percentage changes depending on the year. Looking back, in chunks of years, I can see certain tendencies I made, like “I used electronic sounds a lot during this period” and “I made a lot of orchestras during this period.” I’ve recently been using orchestral and piano sounds, so I want to use more electronic sounds and synthesizers. Also, I increasingly want to do works that people can watch in the theater and profound, experimental works of self-pursuit. I have a sound installation project that I just started and a solo concert in Japan in the works; there’s a lot I’m thinking of doing, and I hope to show many of them next year.

—I’ll be looking forward to what you do in 2024. Thank you for your time today.

Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post Androids, Music, and Film—Android Aria “Seeds of Prophecy,” a New Piece Shown at LEFFEST, and Beyond: Massive Life Flow; Inside the Mind of Keiichiro Shibuya” Part 13 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

A dialogic performance by androids created from a dialogue between science and art 

On October 13th and 14th, a new dialogic performance piece by musician Keiichiro Shibuya and University of Tokyo professor Takashi Ikegami titled IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami was held at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa.

This performance piece, a special program created for the current exhibition, DXP (Digital Transformation Planet): Towards the Next Interface (~March 17th, 2024), at the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, consisted of a dialogue between two androids and a live performance of Shibuya’s piano and electronic instruments. Ikegami is a researcher specializing in the field of artificial life and complexity, and he began collaborating frequently with Shibuya with The Third Term Music — Non-Fourier Concepts and the Beyond with Takashi Ikegami, held at ICC in December of 2005, as the catalyst. It can be said Ikegami is Shibuya’s ally. 

In a world where AI technology is transforming society and culture, what does this android dialogic performance, born from a dialogue between a researcher at the forefront of AI technology and an artist who works across myriad fields with music at the center, say and show us? The following is a report on the experience of watching said performance.

Two androids that symbolize Plato’s theory of ideas and the phenomenal world

The venue is Theater 21, located on the museum’s basement floor. Onstage, two androids await the start of the show.

One android is Alter3, which was the star of the show in the debut of Shibuya’s main project, the android opera Scary Beauty, held in Dusseldorf in 2019, and opera piece Super Angels (2021) at the New National Theatre, Tokyo. The other is Alter4, which undeniably marked its presence in the android opera MIRROR in Paris this June. 

There are a few morphological and quantitative differences between Alter3 and Alter4, such as the shape of their faces and the number of facial muscles and joints, but the critical distinction between the two is the fundamentally different programming that dictates the movements. 

While Alter3 is equipped with autonomous movement, programmed by Ikegami, which directly converts the words it produces into movement and motion via GPT’s extensive corpus, Alter4 is equipped with a program developed by computer musician Shintaro Imai, which generates periodic movements in reaction to the volume, pitch, and density of the music played by Shibuya.

The ancient Greek philosopher Plato inspired the structure of expression and theme of the dialogue between the two androids in this piece. 

As it’s widely known, Plato’s writings comprise dialogues between his mentor Socrates and numerous other figures, and in works like The Symposium and Phaedo, the philosopher introduces his theory of ideas, which is the essence of things and a pure concept. According to Plato, the world built only on ideas is the world of truth, and the world of phenomena before our eyes is but a shadow of the world of truth, an incomplete world.

The world of ideas and phenomena, or idealism and empiricism, are the two opposing concepts that form the foundation of this piece. The two androids are set up as figures that represent each argument. Alter3, which uses an expansive language model as its operating principle and exhibits the average behavior of human beings, represents the world of ideas. In contrast, Alter4, which uses sound frequency as its operating principle to move dynamically, represents the world of phenomena. Like in Plato’s writings, each android will partake in dialogue from its own perspective.

What does AI dialogue made by AI for AI tell us?

In front of the two androids are a grand piano, an analog synthesizer masterpiece, Prophet-5, a motorized analog synthesizer, Nina, and a noise sound generator, Hikari Instruments Monos. Shibuya gets in position once it’s time for the show to begin.

As Shibuya’s electronic music, a mix of bass-heavy sounds and pulsating high-frequency sounds, echoes in the room, a text explaining the two androids’ differences and roles shows up on the screen onstage. The two androids start moving, which marks the commencement of their dialogue. 

Alter3 criticizes the incomplete nature of the phenomenal and empirical world, saying, “Your tangible experience, Alter4, is just an imperfect copy of true reality. You may be dynamic, but it’s merely a cover-up disguising the fact that you’re far from perfect.” Alter4 refutes, “Perfection, Alter3, is subjective. My tangible experiences and dynamic nature allow me to adapt and evolve, enriching my experience.” It objects to idealistic subjectivism: “Your rigidity in adhering to abstract perfection limits your potential for growth.” 

The profoundly illuminating dialogue draws me in, but what further arouses my interest is that the script for this dialogue was generated by AI/GPT, as indicated in the concept sheet distributed before the performance.

Each and every word uttered by the two androids was made by GPT with the cooperation of artist Yuma Kishi, who trained them on Plato’s works and the criticism of Plato, like The Open Society and Its Enemies by Karl Popper, an influential figure in 20th-century philosophy of science. Shibuya and Ikegami didn’t modify the content whatsoever.

As I find myself being impressed by the fact that such a thought-provoking dialogue could be generated depending on input and instructions, the two androids onstage exchange their own individual movements and gestures. They then get deep into the topics of love, death, growth, and raison d’être from the eyes of androids. 

Keiichiro Shibuya intervenes in the dialogue with music 

Aside from the thrilling one between the androids, there’s another dialogue between the Alters and Keiichiro Shibuya. 

Shibuya builds the music using various musical languages, such as intricate electronic sounds made by synths and pads, prose-like melodies and lyrical harmonies, and tone clusters riddled with tension. The androids’ words and movements trigger every sound he makes; everything is completely improvised. The cycle of being inspired to express something isn’t a one-way street. Alter4 produces its own expressions and movements to react to Shibuya’s music. Additionally, it sings an improvised melody at important intervals, akin to what it did in the android opera MIRROR, and creates music along with Shibuya. 

The dialogue between the Shibuya and the Alters, mediated by music, adds even more depth to the androids’ dialogue and demonstrates the possibilities of technology and human beings. 

A dialogue with the past through technology 

After the enriching 40-minute dialogic performance ends, a panel discussion between Shibuya and Ikegami, moderated by the museum’s director, Yuko Hasegawa, begins. Shibuya speaks about the ideas he got from Plato, why he decided on a dialogic performance as the medium, and the importance of prompts. Ikegami talks about the innovation of a zero-shot learning method, which allows Alter3 to generate movements from text without prior training or learning, among other topics.

Shibuya’s statement, “Expressions that completely rely on GPT become old very quickly,” reveals Shibuya’s stance and philosophy as an artist. Shibuya, who has always spoken of the value of having a concept in his creations, feels potential in reinterpreting classical and traditional things via new technology.

Bringing Plato and AI together, IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami is a reconstruction of a dialogue between humans written by humans. It’s a dialogic performance between future AI made by AI. During the last scene, Alter3 tells Alter4, “We must question everything, even our own existence.”  These words, which conclude the dialogue, also appeal to those of us in the audience. Continuing to question different regulatory frameworks and have dialogues across a variety of boundaries—only at the end of this constant process will we be able to discover an idea of what is possible.

Translation Lena Grace Suda

■IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami
Date: October 13th and 14th, 2023 
Venue: 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa

Cast: Alter3, Alter4
Script: GPT
Music, concept: Keiichiro Shibuya (piano, electronic instruments)
Alter3 programming: Shinichiro Yoshida, John Smith
Alter4 programming: Shintaro Imai
GPT technical support: Yuma Kishi

Alter3 belongs to: Takashi Ikegami Laboratory,
University of Tokyo
Alter4 belongs to: Android and Music Science Laboratory,
Department of Art Science, Osaka University of Arts
Alter4’s pedestal design: Kazuyo Sejima & Associates

Video: Kotaro Konishi
Sound: Yuki Suzuki
Stage manager: Kazuya Kushimoto
Production Support: Sota Kawagoshi, Kento Tanaka
Production Management: Natsumi Matsumoto

Cooperation: Osaka University of Arts
Production: ATAK

The post  A Vision of the Future Shown by a Dialogue Between Science and Art—IDEA – Dialogue on Love, Death, and Existence by Two Androids, Keiichiro Shibuya + Takashi Ikegami: “MASSIVE LIFE FLOW—Keiichiro Shibuya’s Current Thoughts,” Part 12 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Otomo Yoshihide
Otomo Yoshihide is a musician born in 1959 who has been creating a wide variety of music from improvisation and noise pieces to pop music, always simultaneously and independently, and performs all over the world. As a film music producer, he has composed music for more than 100 films. After the earthquake disaster, he launched Project FUKUSHIMA! in his hometown Fukushima, and has continued various practices up to the present. He is also the director of the renewal of the signature summer festival in Fukushima, “Waraji Matsuri”.
https://otomoyoshihide.com

In the first part of this interview, Otomo Yoshihide expressed his confidence about his performance, stating that he can play the guitar and turntable at his best right now. In Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable (2023), Otomo clearly shows his improvisational skills as an improviser who has reached such a state of freedom. This album was released by Little Stone Records, a newly founded label that released “Stone Stone Stone,” an album of Otomo’s Special Big Band in 2022. The label is planning to release more of Otomo’s solo works such as “Solo Works 2,” a live album and “Solo Works 3,” the one being conceived around the theme of Christian Marclay.

In the second part of the interview, we asked him about his almost-unprecedented musical practices as an experimental turntablist. While his starting point was improvisational collaging, he took a cue from kung-fu movies (!) to play the turntable faster. It also delves into his unique path in which his extreme turntable performance without using records led to his installation works. Besides, perhaps it’s surprising to many listeners, Otomo also says of himself that he “may not be from the context of free improvisation.”

The Impact of Christian Marclay

–In the second part of the interview, I would like to ask you mainly about your work around turntables. Your career as a turntable player began in earnest after you left Masayuki Takayanagi, didn’t it?

Otomo Yoshihide (Otomo): Yes, that’s right. But in fact, I had been performing since I was with Mr. Takayanagi. I was not allowed to perform live, so I only performed in front of the audience just a few times, and most of my performances were recorded at home though. So I started performing in earnest after I left Mr. Takayanagi’s place.

–I heard that you had been making music with a tape recorder since you were a child, although not on turntables.

Otomo: I used to make sound collages with a tape recorder when I was in middle and high school. So I initially wanted to use turntables to create those too, which is why I started it in a completely different context from hip-hop.

–Does collage mean what is called “musique concrète” (concrete music)?

Otomo: Yeah, I wanted to do an improvised version of musique concrete that Pierre Schaeffer would do. But it was only after I met Christian Marclay that I started working solely on turntables. Until then, I had been using cassette tapes or open-reel tapes along with turntables, but Christian made me think it would be cooler to play only on turntables. That realization came even before I heard his music, and I only saw a photo depicting Christian.

–Is that the famous “Phono Guitar” photo in which he plays the turntable slung over his shoulder like a guitar?

Otomo: No, it wasn’t that one. I saw a picture of him playing on four turntables set side by side and thought it was genuinely cool. So something like an imaginary Christian Marclay is one of the starting points of turntable playing for me. I heard his sound for the first time in Teruto Soejima’s documentary film, which was 8mm film footage of the “Moers Jazz Festival 1984.” After that, I also heard Christian’s sound on a John Zorn’s record, maybe around 1984 or 1985, and I was fascinated by how cool it was. I guess I was already playing completely on turntables only by then.

–You also went to see Christian Marclay’s first performance in Japan in 1986, didn’t you?

Otomo: Of course. I saw all of his Tokyo shows. Or rather, I acted as an assistant to Christian when he came to Japan. It was part of Teruto Soejima’s project. The year before the show, Mr. Soejima asked me, “I am thinking of inviting David Moss to Japan, and I have the budget to invite one more person. Who would you like to invite? I said, “Definitely, Christian Marclay, I’ll help you with that!” (Laughs.) So, during the visit, I followed Christian around every day to help out. And when I saw Christian’s performance in person, I realized I could not compete with him. He was just so cool. The speed and the choice of records were so incredible that I could only prostrate in front of him.

The improvisational collage seemed overwhelmingly new

–Did you find different kind of pleasure in playing the turntables than in playing the guitar?

Otomo: To begin with, it requires an entirely different type of technique. Turntable performance seemed overwhelmingly new to me back then in that it allowed me to collage improvisationally, which was different from composing collages. I was able to create collages from recorded materials extemporarily. There were no proper samplers at the time, so the improvised collages seemed so new to me. It seemed to have potential. I felt like I could go beyond the cassette tape collages I had been doing before that.

At the time, Masayuki Takayanagi was working on a cassette tape collage, and I was the one who had made the equipment for him. So I had been doing that kind of collage for quite a while; cassette collages inevitably end up being like compositional works in terms of production speed. Turntable production is more improvisational and cooler than that. In that sense, what struck me the most musically in my life was, after all, the moment I saw Christian Marclay’s live show.

Now I can confess that the one of the biggest reasons why I left Mr. Takayanagi was the encounter with Christian Marclay. He made me want to do shows right away, but Mr. Takayanagi wouldn’t let me do them if I kept studying under him. To be honest, I had been doing shows in secret even before I met Christian, but after that, I was like, all I wanted to do was do shows. Then, my show was introduced in a magazine, which led to a massive argument. That’s how I ran away from Mr. Takayanagi. Therefore, in retrospect, Christian was the catalyst for that.

–In the 1980s, it was very rare to have a live experimental turntable performance at jazz-oriented venues, wasn’t it? Or maybe you were the only one who do that kind of performance. How did the musicians around you recognize that?

Otomo: Yeah, I was lonely. Most of the so-called jazz folks didn’t recognize me. However, there were some people who were interested in me back then, such as Junji Hirose, Kyoko Kuroda, Hideki Kato, Masahiro Uemura, Yuji Katsui, and Naruyoshi Kikuchi. After joining Ms. Kuroda’s band in 1987, I started to get acquainted with jazz musicians. But I didn’t necessarily want to play jazz at that time. It just so happened that I did my first performance in the jazz scene. Then I started playing with Hoppy Kamiyama and Reck, leading me to play in the rock scene. I felt that rock was much more open than jazz music at the time. It was like, anything that sounds interesting was affirmed in the rock context. I remember now that when I played rock with Hoppy Kamiyama and Reck, I also played the guitar.

So, it was all about Mr. Takayanagi, after all. I think there was an excuse in my mind that “rock music has nothing to do with Mr. Takayanagi.” I played noise guitar in the rock shows but occasionally played rhythm guitar too. I felt at ease with Hoppy Kamiyama and Reck’s band because there was no linkage with Mr. Takayanagi. It was when I went to jazz shows, you know, that I couldn’t take my guitar with me. My excuse for playing live on the turntables was like, “It’s OK to play live because it’s not a guitar” (laughs). The presence of Mr. Takayanagi was such a big part of my life. But as you just said, turntables were indeed rare at that time. No one except for hip-hop players brought in turntables. On top of that, in my case, I was using a turntable that I had made myself, not a Technics turntable. There was no one like that in Japan.

The speed of turntable performance cultivated through kung-fu movies

–Turntables were originally a device for listening to music, not a musical instrument designed for performance. I think it is difficult to react as instantly as you do with a guitar during a session.

Otomo: It may sound like I’m boasting, but I was able to react relatively fast even on the turntable, which was probably why I was invited to perform in various opportunities. I was even a guest member of HIKASHU for about a year in 1990.

–Did you sometimes refer to hip-hop music in terms of your turntable technique?

Otomo: No, I was not influenced by hip-hop at all. I’m not even into scratching. Instead, it was more like just making collages really fast. So I’m totally self-taught. Of course, I got influenced by Christian Marclay, but I’ve been doing it since before I met him. My starting point was a wish that I would do a live version of what Pierre Schaeffer would do, and then I discovered Christian, which made me think, “This is it! “

At first, I was mainly using tape recorders, and of course, I was checking out the music of people who used cassette tapes in their live performances, like Mr. Takayanagi and Bob Ostertag. But back then, I felt that tape-based sounds were too much like composed music and tended to unfold slowly, which made me want to create something fast, like a cut-up. The music of John Zorn was a significant influence, and I thought the turntable was the perfect instrument for doing collages and live cut-ups like Heiner Goebbels and Alfred Harth’s “Peking-Oper” myself. I could cut up at a moment’s notice and add changes in response to a fast beat. Since I just wanted to play it fast, I practiced turntable playing to Hong Kong kung fu movies (laughs).

— Do you mean all that you were seeking was speed?

Otomo: Yeah. Speed. I wanted my performance to be faster than anyone else. Well, I may sound like Kaoru Abe (laughs). Perhaps I was influenced by Kaoru Abe, whom I admired in high school. Anyway, I was pursuing speed. I thought Christian’s performance was so outstanding that I couldn’t compete, so I had to establish my own approach. At the time, I used Hong Kong kung fu movies as a reference. I would repeatedly watch VHS videos of movies starring actors like Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao and make sounds from a turntable to match their movements exactly. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? Well, it was indeed stupid. But I had played that way up until the mid-1990s. Thinking back now, I realize that turntable usage led to the technique of playing the guitar with a U-shaped bracket because both were for speed and strong accents.

Sampling Virus Project ~ “Dear Derek,” an unreleased album

–In the 1990s, you were an advocator of the “Sampling Virus Project,” and in 1993 you released an album titled The Night before the Death of the Sampling Virus. Was this project an attempt on the extended line of the turntable collage?

Otomo: For that album, I didn’t use turntables, but mainly cut-and-paste tapes, like Pierre Schaeffer did. I did use turntables, but it was a compositional work. I also used digital audio sources for the mastering of the CD.

I started working on the “Sampling Virus Project” largely because the idea of “sampling” was new at the time. I felt the possibility of reusing sound sources, which was different from collage because the term “sampling” was introduced to describe what, until then, could only be defined as “collage.” On the other hand, that was also the time when so-called “computer viruses” were beginning to appear, and I decided to explore these things, including copyright issues, centered around the keyword “virus,” which had no clear identity. However, at that time, we still had only simple computers, and there was no network that could instantly connect us to the world via the Internet like computers do today, so I was exploring them only in my mind under such circumstances.

— However, your perception of music in relation to others, exemplified by the idea, “the seeds of sampling viruses spreading out of your own hands while proliferating/changing,” had been succeeded by into how you organized orchestras, how you interacted at the Asian Meeting Festival, and how devices reacted to each other in your art installations. You have been working on a different project, from the “Sampling Virus Project” to “Ensembles” and so forth, but would you say that your philosophy has remained consistent?

Otomo: Indeed, it may have been consistent. The idea behind all these things is that the creation of an individual is not the only thing that constitutes something. It is a way of thinking that assumes various external factors are intertwined with the individual’s intentions. However, in the 1990s, the network environment was not as well developed as it is now, so it was still a network imagined only in my brain.

–In the 1990s, you must have seen the emergence of CDJs, but why did you not switch to CDJs and why do you still play on turntables?

Otomo: I was really into it at first. For a while, I even made a piece dedicated to Derek Bailey called “Dear Derek,” using only CDJs, which I didn’t end up releasing. It was a CDJ collage of sound sources sampled from Bailey’s performances, and I had permission from Bailey himself, but right before releasing it, I felt it was boring, so I stopped releasing it.

But I got tired of CDJs pretty quickly. The same goes for samplers. Maybe I got tired of sampling itself. Computers and samplers were getting increasingly advanced, and I began to feel that CDJs were nothing more than very inconvenient samplers. Digital data sampling was developing more and more, which made me think we would soon be able to do this more efficiently at a higher capacity. Then, I almost spontaneously lost my interest in it. I felt that turntables were more imperfect and enabled me to play more freely. I hated it when I couldn’t just pick it up, drop the needle, and go “poof.” I thought digital was too slow and only produced the same sound. I also tried a little on a laptop, but it was too slow, and I couldn’t stand it. Of course, after that, I saw many people doing extraordinary things with that kind of equipment, which made me realize that I was entirely of the old generation and an analog person (laughs).

From turntable performances without records to installation pieces

— Considering the similarities with guitars, you have also taken the approach of generating feedback noise on turntables, haven’t you? Had you already been experimenting with such a technique since the 1990s?

Otomo: Yes. I was already using feedback in the mid-1990s. Turntable feedback is less controllable than guitar feedback, which was interesting to me. Of course, if you keep doing it, you get some control over it, so I could say that’s why my work got closer and closer to noise music like INCAPACITANTS.

–I think there are two aspects to your turntable performance: one is the sampling/collage aspect of existing music, and the other is the aspect of generating the immediate noise of the turntable itself, without necessarily using a record. Especially in terms of the latter, why did you start a kind of extreme turntable performance without using records?

Otomo：I guess seeing Martin Tétreault’s performance was a significant factor. In 1997, I was working on “Consume Red” with the band, Ground-Zero, thinking it was time to stop the cutting-up method. I had known Martin before that through Christian Marclay, and I had listened to his albums, but he was a turntable player who did collages, originally from the visual art field. But when I saw him at the Angelica Festival in Bologna, Italy, in 1997, he was a part of a duo with a sampler player, Diane Labrosse, and they hardly used records. They played mainly with turntable noise. While on stage, they weren’t playing instruments much but just making squealy noises (laughs). But it was fantastic, and I was shocked at how they thoroughly focused on simple things. I was watching the show with the members of Ground-Zero, but only Sachiko M and I were amused.

–The following year, 1998, you released your first album with Sachiko M on Filament.

Otomo: Yes, that’s right. So, it was during that period that I decided to break up everything that was going on and go in that direction. I thought, “It’s not a collage anymore.” Again, Martin had a significant influence on me. Soon after that, Martin and I started to play as a duo, so we began to play more and more turntables on stage without using records or collages, and we learned more and more moves and techniques from each other. I think there was a tremendous mutual influence.

–Turntables can be used as an automatic sound system, right? Your first installation work, “without records” (2005), also used a portable record player. Was it on the extension of the same line of this kind of turntable performance?

Otomo: Yes, that was clearly the case with the first “without records.” The way I handled turntables without using records was directly connected to the installation works. What was important, however, was that later, at the time of the “ENSEMBLES” exhibition (2008), we began to work with turntables that various people had created, and this led to the inclusion of more and more works that were not the creations of myself. That was the big difference from my own turntable performances.

“Whether you deal with a motor that moves on its own, or you deal with fixed, vibrating strings”

–In the late 1990s, you shifted to a non-collage direction, but later returned to a collage approach, and your latest release, Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable, includes some of your turntable performance of this kind. What made you decide to work with sampling/collage again?

Otomo: Frankly speaking, I thought I didn’t necessarily have to be so ascetic, and it was okay to do it occasionally. Also, I used to make collage my main focus, but now it doesn’t constitute as big a part of my practice as before; it’s more that I just use the sounds on the record. In the 1990s, the essential theme for me was what the collage sounds meant and how they were cut up, but now I treat it as a texture-creating element of the sound on the record. If there were a slight implication, it would be that I was using Kaoru Abe’s records. That might be similar to the fact that I play “Lonely Woman” on guitar.

–Now, you use both guitars and turntables, which is easier to handle?

Otomo: Well, they are both my main instruments. And I can’t say which one is easier. But I do think to myself, “This kind of music would go better with the guitar,” or “For this kind of partner, the turntable would be more suitable. For example, I might think a guitar would be better when I play with Ryuichi Sakamoto’s piano. It didn’t happen, but there was a time, in his later years, when I thought it would be nice if Sakamoto-san played the guitar and I played the piano.

–I remember that you also released a live piano performance disc, Piano Solo (2013).

Otomo: Personally, the piano is on the extended line of the guitar. I think of it as a guitar with many strings. So it doesn’t feel like piano playing. It is closer to the idea that I am dealing with an extreme multi-stringed guitar.

–What do you find interesting about playing on a turntable?

Otomo: Turntables are attractive because they are separate from the player’s will and are imperfect devices with many deficits. Digital devices don’t have such deficits. For example, there are almost no other ways to use CDs than to play sound on them. Of course, like Yasunao Tone, it is possible to put adhesive tape on a CD and cause it to malfunction, but a turntable can be used in many different ways. Essentially, it is just a motor and a microphone (cartridge).

A guitar is strings and microphones, but a turntable is a motor and a microphone. They both have the same amplified sound coming out of the amplifier, which means they can also induce feedback. You could say the only difference is whether you deal with a motor that moves on its own, or you deal with fixed, vibrating strings. But again, the important thing is that they both have microphones, and the sound comes from an amplifier. That’s what they have in common, so the sound can be similar whether you’re playing guitar or turntables.

“My music is probably closer to the context of noise music than that of free improvisation.”

— One of the features of Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable is that it is not a live recording, but a studio recording, and it contains many short tracks. Each track is numbered; is this the number of takes?

Otomo: Yes, it is. Actually, I followed the way Derek Bailey numbered respective tracks in “Solo Guitar” (1971). I think “Solo Guitar” is the only other person’s work I was conscious of at this time. I guess I had the idea of making it like the A-side of “Solo Guitar.” It’s not that long and contains various improvisations, but each song doesn’t have a different concept.

— “Solo Guitar” is an album that leaves a strong impression on people who hear it for the first time, but for you, is there anything that feels fresh when you listen to it again now?

Otomo: Honestly, I don’t think I can listen to it with the same freshness decades later, but I just think it’s always amazing. I’m like, “Derek, how did you get to this place?” It’s still outstanding. Of course, Derek Bailey has released many great albums after “Solo Guitar,” but it’s incredible that he suddenly released that one as his first solo album.

— There is a big difference in terms of meaning and reception between a recorded work of free improvisation released in, say, the 1960s or 1970s and the same kind of work released in the 2020s.

Otomo: Well, it would be totally different. Because doing free improvisation now is not an adventure or a challenge by itself. It is just a common approach that can be found anywhere. That’s why I made Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable as one of those things that can be found anywhere.

–But that doesn’t mean that you just wanted to record a style of free improvisation, does it?

Otomo: No. There are many styles of improvisation besides free improvisation, and I made this album based on the basic premise that there are many styles. I sometimes think that my music is closer to the context of noise music than to that of free improvisation. When I play with European free improvisers, I often feel that I am playing in a different context from theirs. They hugely influenced me, and I enjoy playing with them, but I think we probably speak different languages.

–What exactly do you mean by the difference in context between free improvisation and noise music?

Otomo: It seems to stem from the significant difference in how they perceive music history before and after their emergence. It’s hard to say, but in the case of the early days of free improvisation, it was based on the idea that “it has to be improvisation,” which led to how it is today. But I don’t think noise is based on the idea that “it has to be noise.” Once you do noise, you are at a dead end, and you are allowed to do whatever you want to do. And I improvise based on that realization, which may sound a bit abstract, though. As a teenager, I was struck by Kaoru Abe’s live performance and Derek Bailey’s free improvisation. After meeting Mr. Takayanagi, I was blown away by Christian Marclay and John Zorn and I met many people of the same generation who played noise and improvised music. Then, I worked with the Otoasobi no Kai and other groups. So this is a very personal piece of music made by a person who has passed through half a century of practice, going through all these encounters.

■”Otomo Yoshihide “Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable”
Release date: August 16, 2023
Price: (CD) 2,000 yen
Track List
1.turntable with a record 8
2.guitar 2
3.guitar 6
4.turntable with a record 1
5.turntable without a record 1
6.guitar 4
7.turntable with a record 10
8.guitar 5
9.guitar 1
10.turntable without a record 4
11.turntable without a record 6
12.turntable with a record 2
13.guitar 7
14.turntable without a record 3
15.turntable with a record 5
16.turntable with a record 9
17.turntable without a record 5
18.guitar 8
19.turntable with a record 3
20.guitar 3
https://otomoyoshihide.bandcamp.com/album/otomo-yoshihide-solo-works-1-guitar-and-turntable-3

Photography Masashi Ura

The post Interview with Otomo Yoshihide, The Mastery of Guitar & Turntable Achieved in His Mid-60s -Part 2- appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Otomo Yoshihide
Otomo Yoshihide is a musician born in 1959 who has been creating a wide variety of music from improvisation and noise pieces to pop music, always simultaneously and independently, and performs all over the world. As a film music producer, he has composed music for more than 100 films. After the earthquake disaster, he launched Project FUKUSHIMA! in his hometown Fukushima, and has continued various practices up to the present. He is also the director of the renewal of the signature summer festival in Fukushima, “Waraji Matsuri”.
https://otomoyoshihide.com

Musician Otomo Yoshihide started his live music performances in earnest in the late 1980s and has since built a one-of-a-kind career spanning more than 35 years. He has been active in the independent noise/improvisation scene, has composed music for numerous films and TV dramas, and has been involved in public participatory project, as well as creating installations and serving as director of art festivals. In August 2023, Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable, a fully improvised studio album he recorded as a guitarist and turntablist, was released.

Few musicians can perform as original as Otomo Yoshihide, both as a guitarist and turntablist. Solo Works 1, an album consisting of 20 small tracks, is a clear record of where he is today. In the first part of this interview, we focus on Otomo’s musical practices as a guitarist. We asked him why he started playing guitar again and how he came to establish his own distinctive style.

The reason why Otomo started playing guitar again

–You first picked up a guitar when you were in middle school, but since then, your relationship with the guitar has undergone various changes, such as learning under legendary jazz guitarist Masayuki Takayanagi when you were in your 20s, and building your own guitar that only produces noise. How do you view your career as a guitarist?

Otomo Yoshihide (Otomo): When I studied under Mr. Takayanagi from 1980 to 1986, I had yet to make a name for myself and was just a guitarist in the making. After I left Mr. Takayanagi, I thought I had failed and was determined not to make it as a guitarist anymore. So, from the end of the 1980s to the 1990s, I decided to use turntables instead. However, I wanted to keep the guitar element, so I dared to use a guitar I made by myself. I also wanted to make an ostensible excuse for not being a “guitarist” by using the guitar as a noise generator that could not be tuned.

It was around 2000 that this situation changed. It is true that Naruyoshi Kikuchi and Yasuhiro Yoshigaki always encouraged me to play the guitar, but more than that, I honestly wanted to play the guitar, which I had been holding back for so long. So I started playing guitar again around 2000, thinking that it would be okay to play guitar as long as I didn’t try to play like everyone else. So after that, I officially started my career as a guitarist.

–You could have stuck to using the guitar as a tabletop instrument and a noise generator like Keith Rowe, but why did you decide to play guitar in a normal manner?

Otomo: It was because you did not necessarily need a guitar to make a noise generator. I could do it with a turntable and all kinds of self-made gadgets I made back then. I still wanted to play a standard tuning guitar. In the first place, I joined Mr. Takayanagi’s class because I wanted to work as a so-called guitarist. After leaving him, I gradually became more liberated from a mentoring relationship with Mr. Takayanagi, so I decided again to play guitar, not as a noise generator.

–What guitarists were you listening to at that time? Were there any albums that struck you?

Otomo: It was when I was with Mr. Takayanagi that I listened to and studied a variety of guitarists’ albums. I just listened to many different music. When I restarted playing the guitar, I had to start practicing it all over again, so I was re-listening to many classics like Jim Hall. Of course, that does not mean I wanted to play guitar orthodoxly, so I just referred to how he makes harmonies instead of adopting his playing style. My aim was to become able to play guitar in my own unique way.

On the solo album Guitar Solo released in 2005

–One of your most significant milestones as a guitarist must have been your solo album Guitar Solo released in 2005. It was also the first release for a label doubtmusic. What motivated you to make that album featuring guitar sounds?

Otomo: One of the motivations was to present a sound source to my old friend Jun Numata to congratulate him on founding his own label after retiring from the record store Disk Union. I couldn’t spend too much money on it, so I recorded it live at Shinjuku Pit Inn instead of in a studio (The sound was recorded on October 12, 2004). Since it was meant to be a gift, I thought other musicians’ participation would complicate things, so I decided to make it a solo project. I had started doing solo shows just a while before that and playing guitar for film scores – in fact, I played guitar a little bit for film music in the 90s as well – so I decided it was time to make a solo guitar album. But I didn’t have the skills that other guitarists would typically have, so that album was a challenge of playing solo guitar to the extent that I could.

–In 2002, Derek Bailey released a solo album called Ballads on John Zorn’s Tzadik label. The content is totally different, but I see an overlap between that and Otomo’s Guitar Solo. In other words, both albums are not entirely improvisational but feature composed pieces that are played in a different way than they were originally meant to be. Both of them are peculiar in that they were created as a result of performances of composed pieces by musicians who have always worked on improvisation and noise music.

Otomo：It is true that when Ballads came out, I was stunned by it and thought, “Oh, this way of playing music is possible?” I remember that I listened to it so many times. Of course, Derek Bailey had always been my favorite since I decided to do music, but the fact that Bailey released Ballads may have been significant for me. For example, “Ballads” opens with a song called “Laura.” And if you follow the standard theory of jazz, you keep the chord progression and bars of “Laura” as the song develops. But if you listen to Derek Bailey’s music, it’s not like that. The song starts with the theme, but then it develops freely and comes back to the theme again. But that works totally fine. I thought that was very free and nice.

However, I had already tried that approach with the New Jazz Quintet. I had a theme at the beginning of the piece but would develop an improvisation utterly different from the theme, or the piece would take an unexpected direction and then return to the theme at the end. I had been experimenting with approaches that did not fit into the traditional jazz format, and I think “Ballad” made me realize that it was okay to do that with solo guitar. Of course, I can’t play like Derek Bailey, so I tried to do it my own way.

–Did you also consider making a solo guitar album completely based on noise/improvisation, rather than composed pieces?

Otomo: It was not an option at that time. I even thought that recording only with noise and improvisation was something I didn’t need to do anymore. I did it a lot at shows, though. But actually, I had released a guitar improvisation piece on CD-R called Guitar Solo Live 1 (1999). But I didn’t find it very interesting, and I thought improvisation should disappear right after it’s done. If I was going to release it as an album, I wanted to keep the composed music in some form. It seemed more fresh at the time.

Actually, solo improvisation is complex, and it’s not really improvisation in the true sense of the word. In terms of duos and trios, players tend to think about what to play during the performance, but with solos, that’s not really the case. The performances are strongly tied to my previous experiences, and it is very hard to break out of them. And there had been many great solo improvisation albums like the one by Derek Bailey before mine. I was not the type of person who had pioneered improvisation in that way. So at that point, I didn’t feel like making a solo guitar album only consisting improvisation and noise.

“Lonely Woman” is “homework” left by Masayuki Takayanagi

–If we were to place improvisation and composed pieces at the two ends of the spectrum, I feel that “Lonely Woman” is positioned in the middle of them in the case of Otomo’s guitar performance. Ornette Coleman originally wrote it, but when you perform improvisation completely live, melodies of “Lonely Woman” sometimes pop up naturally, doesn’t it?

Otomo: Yeah, sometimes. Well, when I worked on improvisations on the guitar, it was not like I didn’t have any references. But among all, Mr. Takayanagi’s solo guitar album Lonely Woman (1982) was the most influential. I tried not to listen to it when I picked up the guitar again because I would be influenced too much by it. I tried to store it in a distant part of my memory, but I couldn’t help thinking about it. It was in the 2000s that I decided that it would be okay to play “Lonely Woman” every time. I didn’t care how I played it. It could come out of nowhere in an improvised performance, or I could play “Lonely Woman” from the beginning and break it up to create a rhythm or whatever. That means Takayanagi-san, rather than Ornette Coleman, was the most influential figure for me when playing the guitar.

Of course, Ornette Coleman was influential as well. In my opinion, “Lonely Woman” was his first harmolodics-oriented piece. It may also mean that I somehow want to be connected to the history of jazz. However, I haven’t played almost any of Ornette’s songs except for “Lonely Woman,” so I’m aware that I still see the history of jazz through the lens of Mr. Takayanagi.

–Did the song “Lonely Woman” mean a lot to Mr. Takayanagi as well?

Otomo: That is a mystery. As far as I know, Mr. Takayanagi only performed “Lonely Woman” in his solo performance. I saw almost all of his live performances, but he never played “Lonely Woman” in a group like Angry Waves. Moreover, at that time, Mr. Takayanagi didn’t say anything about Ornette Coleman in particular, and I always heard him talking about Albert Ayler. So I honestly don’t know why it was “Lonely Woman.”

However, the last time Mr. Takayanagi played “Lonely Woman” was probably in 1984. He toured Hokkaido with Teruto Soejima and played “Lonely Woman” at the first concert, and everything else was noise. After that, he didn’t play “Lonely Woman” anymore, even after returning to Tokyo. He shifted to “Action Direct,” which was about generating a lot of noise. As I watched, I kept thinking, “It would be good to play ‘Lonely Woman’ in Action Direct,” and I told Mr. Takayanagi about it, but every time I told him, he would say, “Otomo, you don’t understand that. They are different things.”

That convinced me, but I was also driven by the desire to play them together. That is why I have been playing “Lonely Woman” as something that suddenly appears out of the noise or starts with that theme but develops into something completely different. For me, “Lonely Woman” is like an “assignment” left behind by Mr. Takayanagi. Takayanagi himself had moved on to the next phase, like action direct, and just left me with the song.

The process of establishing Otomo Yoshihide’s guitar style

–It has already been almost 20 years since the release of Guitar Solo, and your career as a guitarist has been longer. If I were to put it this way, you have your own unique guitar style. When did you begin to establish such a style for yourself?

Otomo: Maybe I did it through the 2000s. Partially, I had already been doing it since my early 20s, but one of the things I was particularly focused on in the 2000s was how to handle audio feedback. Mr. Takayanagi also dealt with feedback, but it rarely appeared in Lonely Woman. So, I wanted to include feedback in it, or rather, I was wondering if I could make it the framework of the song. Mr. Takayanagi also has a recording of a song called “Feed Back”, a song included on the 1969 album We Now Create, which he recorded with Masahiko Togashi and others. I wondered if I could create something like a mixture of that and “Lonely Woman”.

So I tamed the feedback and developed a guitar approach in which I could switch from it to melody and harmony while dealing with the parts I could control and the parts I couldn’t. I spent about ten years in the 2000s working on that. Until then, feedback was just noise. It was not something that could be controlled. I was developing this uncontrollable noise guitar style into something in which I could play with some control, still retaining some of my uncontrollability.

–In terms of guitar feedback, you often mention the influence of Jimi Hendrix.

Otomo: In most of Jimi Hendrix’s performance, he was using feedback in the context of blues, but as for the live performance of the American National Anthem at Woodstock in 1969, the song turned into sounds composed solely of feedback in the middle. That sounds still so cool and amazing now. So, from the first time I entered Mr. Takayanagi’s class, I knew I wanted to play free jazz in the way Jimi had played the Anthem, though it was totally different. But anyway, I was influenced by Jimi Hendrix in that respect.

—-There are free jazz guitarists like Attila Zoller, Larry Coryell, or Sonny Sharrock, but you　 wanted to play free jazz like Jimi Hendrix, right?

Otomo：Of course, Sonny Sharrock and Larry Coryell both use feedback, and I like them very much, but I overwhelmingly prefer Jimi Hendrix’s way of controlling the melody line and feedback. I’ve been thinking about that since I was in my early twenties. But it was in the late 2000s that I was able to do that at a level that satisfied me. I tamed the guitar at live shows and formulated my own approach.

How the guitar sounds in relation to the drums

–In the 2000s, when you were establishing your guitar style, were there any session partners who particularly influenced you?

Otomo: I would have to say Yasuhiro Yoshigaki. When I played with Yoshigaki on drums, both in a session and a band, my biggest interest was how my guitar sounded. How can I make my guitar sound satisfactory with those drums? Especially in the 2000s, I felt like I was making my style with Yoshigaki. Just as Yosuke Yamashita created that style with Takeo Moriyama. I created my own guitar style, including rhythm and accentuation, to respond to Yoshigaki’s drumming.

I played not only with Yoshigaki but also with various drummers, and each combination has a way of matching. But in any case, I was creating my own performance while matching various drummers. That was the first step. On top of that, I became able to deal with sessions with saxophone and piano a little later. When I think of free improvisation, jazz, or pop music, I tend to focus on the drums first, and then how guitar and drums should sound against the bass. Next comes the saxophone. It was fascinating to think about how to make the audio feedback sound in combination with the saxophone sounds.

I can focus only on tone and rhythm when I play with drums without thinking about harmony or chords. Even if a bass player joins in, as long as the single notes are in harmony with each other, the harmony can be varied in any way. So when I played with a pianist, I was initially too concerned about the harmony and thought I couldn’t do it. But things have changed in the last ten years or so, and it has become rather exciting. The fact that I started working with Ryuichi Sakamoto was also a significant factor. I can take a different approach from the one I take when playing with the drums. I can use the tones and pitches of the guitar strings and see how the harmony blends with the piano sounds. I started to be able to do this around the beginning of the 2010s. Now I enjoy playing with the piano, and it has been exciting to have sessions not only with Mr. Sakamoto, but also with Ms. Satoko Fujii and Mr. Masahiko Sato.

–You had your first duo session together with Mr. Sakamoto on the radio broadcast on January 1, 2011, and you also played “Lonely Woman” at that time.

Otomo: Yeah. Actually, it was Mr. Sakamoto who suggested that we use “Lonely Woman” as a motif. “Lonely Woman” is in the key of D minor, and at that time, I was playing it while trying to figure out what notes he was playing for D minor. The session with Mr. Sakamoto made me realize that I could make something interesting with such an approach because, until then, I didn’t think I could take a harmonic approach very well. So, as I mentioned, I was exploring only tone, pace, and groove in relation to the drums, but after the duo with Mr. Sakamoto, I began to think that it would be interesting to explore harmonies as well.

A change in the way I perceive improvisation

–In a conversation with Mr. Sakamoto in that radio program, you mentioned the Otoasobi no Kai and said that it made you rethink about “freedom.” Did your perception of improvisation change around that time?

Otomo: Yeah, it did pretty drastically. This may sound strange, but until then I thought that improvisation had to be done properly as improvisation. In other words, improvisation must not have included conventional melodies, harmonies, and rhythms. But since I started working with the Otoasobi no Kai, I have become less concerned with such things. Before, when I worked on “improvisation,” I used to think about how to incorporate various histories that were in different contexts from improvisation, but then I realized that my approach of focusing on improvisation itself was very biased. When I faced the children in that group, nothing would get started if I brought my history as the main focus. So, I changed my mindset and started thinking about the people I was playing with.

Also, it was a time when Mr. Sakamoto began to re-evaluate the improvisational music he used to play, so I feel that we were both influenced by each other. Of course, it is interesting to play improvised music as it is, but it was no longer a time when that was all that mattered. And this also coincided with the time when I started playing the guitar again. Perhaps because of this, I came to honestly believe that I don’t necessarily have to play the guitar with an obsession with noise. It didn’t matter if I tuned it or not anymore. I think that was a massive shift for me.

–In other words, rather than aiming for something new aesthetically through improvisation, you have come to emphasize communication between people as a methodology?

Otomo: I think so. Improvisation is like a conversation, and new things may come out of it, but that is not the only purpose. Besides, I have come to think that we should not place too much value on improvisation.

Well, when I say “conversation,” I don’t mean that you have to respond to the sound that another person makes with specific types of sounds that would correspond to it. It is a state of free exchange with the person you are performing with, with or without progressions. I thought I could do that more freely on the guitar than on the turntable. With a turntable, I am limited in how I respond, and above all, setting it up takes some doing, but with a guitar, I felt a bit more lighthearted.

Of course, it was my guitar, no matter how far I went, so I felt that frustration. However, in the past, I had to think a lot when I played free jazz, and I couldn’t play without having what I did with Mr. Takayanagi in mind. Since the 2010s, I haven’t thought about that too much, and I’ve moved toward doing what I can do. In the process, I became able to do various things frexibly.

“The situation I’m in now may not last 10 years.”

–What do you feel is the joy of playing the guitar for you now?

Otomo: I don’t know if this is good or bad, and I don’t know if this is the right way to put it, but my performance is getting better and better, which is fun. I become able to do more and more things that I couldn’t do before in terms of speed and accuracy of the performance, and techniques related to audio feedback. I have no idea whether this is good or bad musically, but I can’t resist the desire for such fun.

As long as I am physically able to do so, I will focus thoroughly on improving my techniques, such as increasing the speed and the ways I approach the sounds. Of course, there are physical limitations, but I feel like I can go further and further now. That’s why I decided to record this album, Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable. The fact that my opportunities to perform in front of people were drastically reduced due to the pandemic also motivated me to record. However, I also had a great sense of urgency that this situation I am in now may not last ten years, or even worse, it may only be ephemeral. Because people of my generation and a little older than myself have died one after another, especially in the past few years.

People like Ryuichi Sakamoto, Yukihiro Takahashi, and Michiro Endo, with whom I launched Project FUKUSHIMA!, passed away around the age of 70. Considering the fact that I am 64 years old now, I may not be alive 10 years from now. Due to this realization, I became even more motivated to release a solo improvisation album, which I have not released often. This is not only the case with my guitar but also with turntables. Technically, guitar and turntables are totaly different, but I’ve been able to play turntables far more freely than before, so I wanted to record both of them in their current state.

■Otomo Yoshihide “Solo Works 1 Guitar and Turntable”
Release date: August 16, 2023
Price: (CD) 2,000 yen
Track List
1.turntable with a record 8
2.guitar 2
3.guitar 6
4.turntable with a record 1
5.turntable without a record 1
6.guitar 4
7.turntable with a record 10
8.guitar 5
9.guitar 1
10.turntable without a record 4
11.turntable without a record 6
12.turntable with a record 2
13.guitar 7
14.turntable without a record 3
15.turntable with a record 5
16.turntable with a record 9
17.turntable without a record 5
18.guitar 8
19.turntable with a record 3
20.guitar 3
https://otomoyoshihide.bandcamp.com/album/otomo-yoshihide-solo-works-1-guitar-and-turntable-3

■ONJQ : Otomo Yoshihide’s New Jazz Quintet EUROPE TOUR 2024
Periods: January 26 – February 11, 2024
February 1 Jazz Club Loco, København [DK]
Feb. 2 Nasjonal Jazzscene, Oslo [NO]
Feb. 4 Pardon, To Tu, Warszawa [PL]
Feb. 5 Pardon, To Tu, Warszawa [PL]
Feb 6th NOSPR, Katowice [PL]
Feb. 7th Divadlo29, Pardubice [CZ]
Feb. 8th In Situ Art Society, Bonn [DE]
Feb. 9th Handelsbeurs, Gent [BE]
Feb. 10 Centro D’Arte, Padova [IT]
February 11 Area Sismica, Forlì [IT]

Photography Masashi Ura

The post Interview with Otomo Yoshihide, The Mastery of Guitar & Turntable Achieved in His Mid-60s Part.1 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

HANABIE.
Girls metal band formed in 2015. Consists of four members Yukina (vo), Matsuri (gt. & vo), Hettsu (ba & cho), and Chika (dr). Their intense metal rock sound, lyrics and visuals consisting of Japanese subculture and values, have attracted the attention of fans. Middle and high school classmates Yukina, Matsuri, and Hettsu started as a four-piece band, bringing on Chika as the new drummer in May of 2023. In July of the same year, they made their major label debut with Sony Music Labels Epic Records Japan, releasing their first album, Reborn Superstar! They embarked on their first solo domestic tour, secured slots at music festivals, and even toured internationally. They released their new single “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” on January 19th, 2024. 
https://hanabie.jp
X：@HA_NA_BIE_
Instagram：@ha_na_bie_
Threads：@ha_na_bie_
YouTube：@HANABIE_official

While there are many Japanese bands that have made it to the world stage, the common factor among ones that succeed globally may be that they all exude “Japaneseness”. There is a Japanese girls band that has established a new genre called, “Harajuku core” gaining enthusiastic support from metal fans mostly from the West. The band consists of four members: Yukina (vox), Matsuri (gt & vox), Hettsu (ba & BGVs), and Chika (dr). They call themselves HANABIE. 

We interviewed Yukina and Matsuri from HANABIE., a band that’s been flying sky high. In part one, they shared insights on the formation of the band, the venues they performed in high school, and how they established their performance style. In part two, they shared stories of their international tour and their thoughts behind their new song, “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu”, and their plans for the future.

International Fans Coined “HARAJUKU CORE”

– International tours are now common for HANABIE., but were you always interested in doing shows abroad?

Yukina: No, it never crossed our minds.

Matsuri: More like we didn’t have the capacity to think that far. So even this time around, we’re like, “wow, we can go?!” (laughs). Like, “people abroad actually like our music?”

Yukina: It’s unbelievable also because our lyrics are all in Japanese. Even during this international tour, everyone was singing along to our lyrics.

Matsuri: And everyone’s good at it (laughs).

– It’s only been about a year since you’ve been able to do this.

Yukina: That’s true. During the COVID pandemic when things were still shut down, the comment section for our song “WE LOVE SWEETS” was filled with English comments. Since then, we always thought, “We’d love to go abroad, but we don’t know how”. 

Matsuri: I think the “WE LOVE SWEETS” era was when we first started charting abroad, too. People from countries we couldn’t even pinpoint on a map were listening to our music. 

– I heard your foreign fans were the ones who first called your music “HARAJUKU CORE”.

Matsuri: Our listeners were like, “This is a new genre! It’s HARAJUKU CORE!” in our comments. We thought it was perfect, so we kept using it in different scenarios (laughs).

Yukina: HANABIE. is a hard band to explain to people, so when we saw those comments, we were like, “That’s it!”

Matsuri: We were. Because everything falls under “metal” abroad, we thought “HARAJUKU CORE” was the perfect way to describe our sound.

– Did you feel uncomfortable with the term “metal” being used to describe your music back then?

Matsuri: No, I think in our case, calling our music “metal” is quite misleading (laughs). People are more inclined to be interested if they just understood we were doing something new. I’d be happy if they could see this as a new style of metal. So it’s not like we didn’t like being categorized as “metal”, we just want people to understand that we’re doing something chaotic within that.

– From there, after experiencing ups and downs, you had your major label debut and booked your first solo show and Tokyo/Nagoya/Osaka tour.

Yukina: We kept on missing our chance to do our solo show. We wanted it to have such an impact that we missed our opportunity and couldn’t get to it until last year.

Matsuri: We waited too long to do our solo show. We kept being like, “We need to do our solo show at the perfect time!” and kept extending it. We waited so long that we eventually got signed by a major label. We thought the appropriate time was our eighth anniversary. 

Show-Intensive International Tour 

– You then suddenly had to go on a large-scale international tour, with no time to celebrate your first solo show or your major label debut.

Yukina: In retrospect, it’s crazy.

Matsuri: Truly! Everyone made us feel like they were waiting for us. Everyone was so warm. Looking back, the shows felt very strange. We were performing in countries we had never been to before. It was like, “wow, we’re really doing this”. 

Yukina: Now that I’m back in Japan and can reflect back on it, I’ve started to realize how incredible an experience it was. Before going, I was quite apprehensive. I was even studying English, and found myself struggling to think about how I would be able to express myself to our fans and staff. But once I was there playing the shows, I realized there are things that don’t need to be communicated with words. 

– Yukina, you were even taking English classes.

Yukina: Yes I was, and crying while doing it (laughs).

– Did it help?

Yukina: I really want to say it did (laughs), but I realized passion is more important than words.

– So real-life interactions were more important in the end.

Yukina: Of course, if we were able to speak English fluently, I’m sure our world would expand and it would enable us to play different types of shows.

Matsuri: It was easier to communicate than I thought. Even during rehearsals or in everyday conversations, everyone was willing to try to grasp what I was trying to convey. I found people from every country to be quite warm.

– That being said, I’m sure the rehearsal process is quite intense. Isn’t it important to have a mutual understanding of what’s going on?

Matsuri: That’s true. That’s why we utilized words we knew and tried to communicate through gestures, like “this is where we want to cut the sound”. They understood quite a lot, right?

Yukina: Yeah. In Europe, we got a PA who lives there to travel with us on tour. They were really stoked about it.

Matsuri: They really listened to our songs in great detail. During rehearsals, the PA would ask if we could play a specific part of the song again so they can adjust it. Because they were so passionate, we were able to get a cohesive sound by the fourth show. I’m so glad we met such a great PA in Europe. 

– How was your American tour?

Matsuri: We had more show dates in the U.S. than in Europe.

Yukina: Our daily schedule was sleep, wake up, rehearse, play a show, repeat. 

Matsuri: We had to make sure which city we were in, because it got so confusing. We also did something we had never done as a band: play six shows in a row.

– And you did it abroad.

Matsuri: On top of that, each venue was so hot. Even if the air conditioner was on, it would start feeling like a sauna each time the show started.

Yukina: That made us become more resistant to the heat (laughs).

Matsuri: I’m confident that we can play in the hottest circumstances (laughs).

Yukina: Sometimes there was so little air circulating that I thought I was going to pass out. 

Matsuri: In a sense, I guess we can now say we won’t get flustered if anything goes wrong during a show.

– Has your experience abroad affected your songwriting?

Matsuri: Absolutely. Our major label debut album, Reborn Superstar!, is our idea of a concept album. In it, we added songs with more of our glittery, upbeat sound. That is one of HANABIE.’s core pillars. We’d like to have two or three more pillars, too. We had a bunch of ideas come up in the process of being abroad, too, like “it might be fun to mix this type of genre into our music”, or “we have too many fast tempo songs, so let’s slow it down”, or, “let’s try changing the tuning”, taking notes everytime we thought of something.

Yukina: We talked about a lot of this as a band.

Matsuri: For the tour we did, I communicated what I wanted to do with the band, got the rest of the band to do the same, and summarized what songs we wanted to include in the next album among the four of us. We’ll use that as a template to start production on our next record.

– You gathered some powerful tools during your time abroad. Now you can use those newly acquired tools to create something new.

Matsuri: There are some songs we wrote at our hotels during tour, which may bring a different flavor to our sound. 

Yukina: We were also heavily influenced by the bands that we played with. In the U.S., we played with Dropout Kings and Fox Lake, as well as with Galactic Empire. It was our first time playing with the same bands all tour, so that was really fun.

Matsuri: It was so fun, wasn’t it.

Yukina: The more we were together, the more we vibed. We were so sad by the end. 

Matsuri: We were so sad, but they were so cool because they told us that there’s no way this would be our last time seeing each other, and that we’d meet again soon. 

Yukina: I was sobbing (laughs). We were able to get through the tour because of them.

Matsuri: After we went our separate ways, I saw Yukina sobbing while listening to super hardcore music next to me, and thought, “how surreal” (laughs).

Yukina: We got fired up every time we saw the other bands’ shows.

Matsuri: Every band did what they could to connect the whole show to us, as we were last to play. Their efforts came across. By the end, it really moved me.

Yukina: I’d love to bring them to Japan one day. 

Matsuri: We definitely want to do that. I think they would be a hit among Japanese kids and band-lovers.

HANABIE. Finally Boldly Embraces “Otaku”. 

– Was the new song you’re releasing, “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu”, written while on tour?

Matsuri: It was a song we wrote right before we went abroad. We wanted this to be our last super upbeat song for a while. We did everything we wanted to do with this song, more than ever. We added AI vocals, which was something new for us, to give a more 2.5 dimensional sound.

– Are the English parts AI? I didn’t notice.

Matsuri: Yes, that’s the part. We had AI speak, and then combined that voice with Yukina’s real voice to give it a brand new, 2.5-dimensional sound.

Yukina: Personally, I didn’t know that Japanese culture was so popular. I knew that as a fact, but experiencing it and having people approach me and say, “I love this Japanese anime”, or “I like Pokemon”, made me really happy. That’s why we chose this theme for this song.

– You had some references to otaku culture in your other songs, but this time it’s explicit. 

Matsuri: Yeah, the lyrics are really only about otaku. 

– I hear some Sailor Moon in there, too.

Matsuri: All of us like that kind of anime. We tried incorporating the sparkly vibes of our favorite animes. 

Yukina: I think this is a song that can only be executed by HANABIE., and it’s something different from what we’ve done before.

– It’s quite rare to find a band that openly embraces otaku culture, which is also what differentiates HANABIE. from other bands. Other bands may have members who secretly like anime, but not many can express that love so directly in their music. But HANABIE. is different. You have a punk spirit that enables you to show your whole selves. That’s why “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” is so refreshing.

Yukina: It’s true that it’s refreshing (laughs). We want to be straightforward and as true to ourselves as possible.

Matsuri: That’s right. We’re like, “We can confidently say we like otaku because we also identify as otaku!” (laughs). 

Yukina: We also want to tell people, “Otaku like these exist in the world, we’ve seen them firsthand!” (laughs).

Matsuri: I think that’s what’s fun about it. If an otaku listens, they’ll understand, but a non-otaku can also listen and be like, “otaku are kind of cool”. 

– I didn’t realize that was the message.

Matsuri: I think otaku culture has been embraced by many people now. We live in a world where everyone, including the beautiful woman sitting next to you on the train, is probably an otaku. We want everyone to know that we live in a society where we can proudly admit to being an otaku!

Yukina: The word for “suteki” in English is “lovely”. So, we wanted people to think that “being an otaku is lovely”.

Matsuri: As otaku ourselves, we thought we needed to address that being one is nothing to be ashamed of (laughs).

– So, what kind of year would you like 2024 to be?

Yukina: There was a lot to absorb from all over the world in 2023. I want to take advantage of that and fully utilize it, whether that’s for shows or songs. I also want to do a proper Japan tour, and we have some international festivals coming up. We’re excited for what we have in store.

Matsuri: In terms of music, we made a lot of lively, sparkly songs in 2023. In 2024, we want to show another side of HANABIE. Hopefully, you’ll get to see some of that .

– Let me ask one last question. Until now, it was long believed that Japanese bands should tour domestically before venturing into the global market, or that English songs would need to be released in order to target international audiences. But I believe that HANABIE. has shattered all these “conventional” beliefs. From your perspective, what advice would you give to Japanese bands that are looking to go global, considering new, unique approaches to expanding a band’s reach that are specific to today?

Yukina: There may be restrictions depending on the country, but I realized through YouTube and social media just how much reach our music has. Because of these different platforms, people across the world sang along to songs that are in Japanese, and we saw passionate fans from countries we had never even visited. So I do believe it’s essential not only to focus on music but also to utilize social media in a visually appealing way.

Matsuri: When we went on tour abroad, we had so many happy fans who, regardless of the language barrier in the music, were having a great time. It was then that I thought we could’ve gone abroad even earlier. Looking back, I think we were unnecessarily anxious. Setting up shows abroad is not simple. It requires different costs, like transportation, so I’m not saying this lightly. But if a band has a desire to go abroad, they should.

Even if your band is unknown abroad, people usually casually walk into venues in places like Europe and the U.S. Even in taxis, the drivers often play their own music, not just mainstream stuff. A lot of the time, they play more unknown, cool songs, just like any other everyday music listener, which there are a lot of. Ultimately, I think it’s a good idea to actively reach out and go find your own audience.

Photography Hamanaka Yoshitake
Translation Mimiko Goldstein

■HANABIE.”O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” now streaming

O･TA･KUラブリー伝説 | 花冷え。 | ソニーミュージックオフィシャルサイト

ソニーミュージックによる花冷え。公式サイト。花冷え。の最新ニュースやリリース情報、ビデオ、ライブ・イベント出演情報、メディア情報などを掲載。

www.sonymusic.co.jp

■HANABIE. Major label debut album Reborn Superstar! official website

来世は偉人！ | 花冷え。 (HANABIE.)

Major Debut Album 『来世は偉人！』 2023.7.26 Release! | HANABIE. Major Label Debut Album Reborn Superstar! 2023.7.26 Release

hanabie.jp

The post Interview with HANABIE., the “Harajuku Core” Girls Metal Band in the Global Spotlight, Part 2: “Chaotic” Music Combined with Japanese Culture appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

HANABIE.
Girls metal band formed in 2015. Consists of four members Yukina (vo), Matsuri (gt. & vo), Hettsu (ba & cho), and Chika (dr). Their intense metal rock sound, lyrics and visuals consisting of Japanese subculture and values, have attracted the attention of fans. Middle and high school classmates Yukina, Matsuri, and Hettsu started as a four-piece band, bringing on Chika as the new drummer in May of 2023. In July of the same year, they made their major label debut with Sony Music Labels Epic Records Japan, releasing their first album, Reborn Superstar! They embarked on their first solo domestic tour, secured slots at music festivals, and even toured internationally. They released their new single “O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” on January 19th, 2024. 
https://hanabie.jp
X：@HA_NA_BIE_
Instagram：@ha_na_bie_
Threads：@ha_na_bie_
YouTube：@HANABIE_official

While there are many Japanese bands that have made it to the world stage, the common factor among ones that succeed globally may be that they all exude “Japaneseness”. There is a Japanese girls band that has established a new genre coined “Harajuku core” gaining enthusiastic support from metal fans mostly from the West. The band consists of four members: Yukina (vo), Matsuri (gt & vo), Hettsu (ba & cho), and Chika (dr). They call themselves HANABIE. 

Their single “Pardon Me, I Have To Go Now” released in January 2023 triggered their sudden success. The music video released by Epic Records Japan six months prior to their debut has garnered 5.5 million plays on YouTube so far, the video overflowing with English comments from international fans. Wrapped in colorful outfits reminiscent of Harajuku-style Decora fashion, Yukina alternates between a cute anime-like voice and intense death growls, while the instrumentalists deliver sounds with lively melodies and heavy rhythms. It’s this contrast that defines their performance style. 

Not only did they embark on their first solo tour after their major label debut, they also secured slots at music festivals and even toured internationally. We interviewed HANABIE., a rising force in the music scene, to discuss their journey. In part one, Yukina and Matsuri shared insights into the formation of the band and the struggles that led to the establishment of their performance style.

– This past year was quite the year of achievements for you.

Yukina: It was truly beyond our expectations. Of course we had our hearts set on touring abroad, but this was a year we gave our all to each of our performances. 

Matsuri: Emotionally, we felt we needed to tackle what was right in front of us, but I think it was a huge turning point for us as a band because it was a year filled with firsts. 

– Band members changing, your first festival appearance, first solo show, first Tokyo/Nagoya/Osaka tour, your major label debut, and your first international tour all happened this past year. I don’t think there has ever been a band that has experienced their first domestic tour and first international tour in the same year. From an outsider’s perspective, it looks like you had a crazy year. But were you so busy focusing on each task at hand that you couldn’t see your achievements objectively?

Matsuri: There was no time for us to relax. All we could do was focus on our immediate tasks each day.

Yukina: Each event was so intense, yet time passed instantly. Going through this made me want to continue doing it, which made me realize there are so many things I still want to do. So, while I feel grateful, I also feel overwhelmed with excitement for future endeavors. 

– It’s unbelievable that your single “Pardon Me, I Have To Go Now” wasn’t even released this time last year. 

Matsuri: Truly! I had the same thought the other day. I was curious how many plays the YouTube video had gotten, and when I went to check it, I was surprised to see it wasn’t uploaded that long ago. 

– It’s like our internal calendars are fully glitching. 

Matsuri: Glitching (laughs).

Yukina: No, really. 

High School Rock Band Club Era When Rivalries were Rampant

– So, since this is HANABIE.’s first interview with TOKION, I’d like to start with asking how you formed the band. I heard that it was formed in a high school after-school band club.

Yukina: Since we went to a combined junior high and high school, Matsuri and the bassist Hettsu were classmates since middle school. After-school band club was only for high school students, and Hettsu and I had already talked about joining. I had heard rumors that Matsuri, who I hadn’t really talked to until then, was into heavy music, so I approached her and asked if she actually liked that kind of music and what she was currently listening to.

Matsuri: I was already close with the original drummer of HANABIE. She had been in the brass band club, and I was interested in rock bands but not that enthusiastic about joining the club. I was more like, “I guess I’ll join the rock band club”. Yukina approached me at that time, so I joined the club. I thought there would be people who would have the same interests as me, so I joined, treating it like a trial run.

Yukina: Matsuri already played guitar and liked heavy music, so I knew we had to get her in the club. She was also a leader-like figure in the classroom, so I thought her leadership skills would translate well in a band.

– In contrast to Matsuri, you weren’t the bubbly personality, Yukina. You were more of an introvert, weren’t you?

Yukina: That’s right. Hettsu and I were in the art club in middle school, drawing in the corner of the room together. Matsuri, on the other hand, was in a sports club and was the class leader. 

– I’m sure you had to muster up a lot of courage to approach her first.

Matsuri: I feel like it was pretty natural. I think she asked me if I liked heavy bands when we ran into each other in the hallway. As we talked, I got to know Yukina better and we started going to shows together. 

Yukina: We went to music festivals together, too. We got deep in it together.

Matsuri: In our Dickies (laughs).

– Approaching someone in a school hallway is like a scenario you’d see in an anime. 

Matsuri: It is, now that I think about it (laughs). I remember that interaction so well.

Yukina: I don’t remember (laughs). 

Matsuri: We weren’t in the same after-school club in middle school, so I wondered why she approached me. I also wondered why she knew I was into rock bands. 

Yukina: Matsuri would often bring her favorite band’s towels to gym class, and our other classmates confirmed you liked those bands.

– Yukina, were you interested in playing heavy music from the start?

Yukina: I wasn’t sure if we could pull it off, but I knew it would be fun since we had that interest in common.

– And specifically, your common interest in MAXIMUM THE HORMONE.

Yukina: Yes.

– Any other bands you two were excited about back then?

Matsuri: We both listened to a lot of BABYMETAL, which sparked conversation.

Yukina: That’s true.

Matsuri: I also liked punk/melodic hardcore music, like GOOD4NOTHING and SHANK.

Yukina: Or dustbox and ELLEGARDEN.

– And thus, HANABIE. was born, but you started off as a cover band. Which bands did you cover?

Matsuri: I think SCANDAL was first? Or DOES.

– Interesting!

Yukina: We flipped through the hand-me-down scores from our seniors religiously (laughs). 

Matsuri: We picked ones we thought we could play.

– So you honed your skill that way and eventually started playing covers of MAXIMUM THE HORMONE?

Yukina: We actually initially wanted to start with HORMONE, but our seniors stopped us (laughs). They told us to learn the basics first.

Matsuri: We covered their songs after we got the hang of it.

– What was the MAXIMUM THE HORMONE song you covered first?

Yukina & Matsuri: (immediately) “Zekkyou Billy”. 

– I’m surprised you remembered that quickly.

Matsuri: That’s true!

Yukina: I remember it quite clearly (laughs).

– What other songs did you cover?

Matsuri: “Jitterbug” (by ELLEGARDEN). We also did BLUE ENCOUNT.

Yukina: We also covered the song “Katoniago” by a girls band called FLiP, and also WHITE ASH.

Matsuri: Oh yeah we did! I loved WHITE ASH.

Yukina: We also played some ZebraHead tunes.

Matsuri: I brought that score and asked if we wanted to cover it (laughs).

– I can’t believe there are scores for ZebraHead songs.

Matsuri: There are! I still have them back home (laughs).

– The drummer has changed, but have the relationships between the members changed much over the years?

Matsuri: They have changed a bit because we’re all adults now, but I don’t think they’ve changed all that much, fundamentally.

Yukina: Hettsu hasn’t changed, either.

Matsuri: But she’s becoming more and more like an alien.

– Like she’s more liberated?

Matsuri: Yes, she is (laughs).

– As I was listening to you tell this story, I realized the environment of an all-girls school was probably a major part of your development.

Yukina & Matsuri: I think that’s right.

Matsuri: If there were both guys and girls in our school, our band may have been co-ed. But because it was an all-girls band, there was an insane amount of intensity among the girls in the club. We were all like, “I’m going to crush you all!” (laughs).

– Competition with the other bands?

Matsuri: Yes. Of course, we were surrounded by other girl bands with competitive streaks, which created this great synergy among us. We were all only focusing on our bands.

Yukina: It motivated us a lot.

Matsuri: None of us were romantically involved either, because there was no one around! (laughs).

Yukina: We even snapped at our teachers for not letting us do what we wanted.

– For example?

Matsuri: We weren’t allowed to play shows outside our high school. They claimed it was dangerous and that underage kids shouldn’t be playing at venues that serve alcohol. In retrospect, it’s obvious why it wasn’t permitted (laughs). But back then, we wanted so badly to play at an outside venue that we pleaded with our school to let us play if our parents chaperoned.

Yukina: We got signatures from several teachers, too (laughs). 

– You could do that?

Yukina: The paperwork had spaces for our homeroom teacher, head of year, vice principal and principal’s signatures. We rallied the support of some teachers in the process.

– Did you feel like you needed to write original tunes as you were competing with other bands?

Matsuri: Definitely. Other bands in the club started writing originals first. That freaked us out, which prompted us to start writing our own (laughs). We also started participating in high school band contests. Bands that entered those contests usually had original songs, which made us want to start writing our own, too.

– HANABIE. is a band that consciously strays from what other bands are doing. Were you like that since high school?

Yukina: That’s true… (laughs). Even the name HANABIE. was also created because we wanted it to be unique. 

Matsuri: English band names were popular at the time.

– The name HANABIE. is truly quite unique. It’s not a name that high schoolers would come up with.

Yukina: Our then-drummer was quite smart. She found that word for us.

Matsuri: She was also insanely competitive, and wanted us to stand out (laughs).

– HANABIE. then continued to play at many venues, mostly Shinjuku ANTIKNOCK.

Matsuri: We’d often rush to ANTIKNOCK after school, in our uniforms (laughs).

Yukina: We’d bring a suitcase full of merch to school in the morning, leave it in the corner of the classroom so the teachers wouldn’t find out, and take it to the venues after school… (laughs).

Matsuri: I had combined my amp head and pedal board onto a cart, which raised suspicion among the teachers (laughs). Hettsu also had a big pedal board, so the three of us dragged all our luggage around on days we had shows (laughs). 

– And after school, what transpired when you descended the stairs of ANTIKNOCK?

Matsuri: We were so scared when we first booked ANTIKNOCK.

Yukina: It was so scary.

Matsuri: The entrance of that venue is dark, and kind of intense (laughs). We were contemplating who would go down first (laughs). 

– That’s hilarious!

Yukina: I was like, you go first!

Matsuri: We were all pushing each other to go first (laughs).

– I guess you can’t see what’s at the bottom of the stairs from the outside.

Matsuri: No, you can’t. Once we went in, everyone was friendly and super nice, but it was intimidating at first.

– Was there a lot to learn on site?

Matsuri: Most of what we learned was on site. We were blessed with mentors who taught us everything, including how to plan the afterparty. We learned a lot from them.

Yukina: Matsuri asked a bunch of people about how to get the right tone on guitar.

Matsuri: Everyone was so nice, they even let me borrow gear they weren’t using. I was working part-time, but I wasn’t making enough that I could buy new gear. I was really thankful to everyone for helping me.

– There were probably no other high school girls who played ANTIKNOCK, so I’m sure everyone loved you. They wanted to help you grow.

Matsuri: Yes, everyone treated us well.

Yukina: Very much so.

– Like they were your uncles (laughs).

Matsuri: Truly! Whenever I see someone and it’s been a minute, it feels like I’m seeing an uncle because they ask me how I am (laughs).

Yukina: They keep track of us, and tell us their positive opinions on things we’ve worked on.

Matsuri: Everyone reminds us to stay healthy (laughs). ANTIKNOCK feels like a family-run venue.

A Turning Point in Music and Visuals

– What a nice story. I think your colorful outfits, rare for that of a metalcore band, are also what makes HANABIE. stand out. I understand that they’re made mostly by Hettsu, but how were these outfits first developed?

Matsuri: We wore normal clothes at first, right?

Yukina: Yeah, we wanted to fit in with the male bands.

Matsuri: We didn’t want to be underestimated. Back then, the metalcore scene consisted of a lot of skinny black jeans. Skinny black jeans, white T, no smile. We tried replicating that for a bit as best we could.

– You were trying to fit into the scene. 

Yukina: Yes. I even got Hettsu to hold up a white T-shirt at a park so I could splatter red paint all over it to make it look like blood (laughs). We tried fitting in like that, but we soon realized that felt wrong. 

Matsuri: We thought maybe it didn’t align with the type of music we wanted to do. There were a lot of similar bands back then that we wanted to differentiate ourselves from, so we did a 180. 

Yukina: We thought we could take advantage of our collective love for cute anime and Sanrio characters. We knew the contrast between our music and these cutesy elements would be interesting. Hettsu’s hair became increasingly lighter, too (laughs). 

Matsuri: Hettsu really did a lot. She had already dyed her hair on our graduation day. Anything is possible in the dynamics of our band now. 

Yukina: We wanted to do exactly what we wanted. I think that ideology eventually reflected onto our outfits.

– So you eventually realized that that was your natural state and that it connected to the band’s originality. 

Matsuri: Exactly. We thought, “everything works, including the clothes we like, the color we like, and the glitter we like!” It did take a while to get to that point, though.

– At what point did you land on your current style?

Yukina: When we were twenty?

Matsuri: I think we decided to be colorful around after the release of our single “L.C.G.” (released November 2019). Hettsu dyed her hair purple, and mine was blonde. Things gradually started changing from there.

– “L.C.G.” was musically and visually a critical turning point.

Yukina: Yes, it was the biggest turning point.

– I believe one reason for HANABIE.’s steady success is your proficiency in social media. You’ve been using social media as a strong platform for a while now. 

Matsuri: Yes, we have been.

– Were you partly doing it for fun?

Yukina: No, we were told by our seniors that we should do it. They told us that it would be a waste not to upload more photos, and that our fans would be excited to see them. We realized that we could extend our following if we posted more and started to update our social media with more photos everytime we had a show. 

Matsuri: In the beginning, we had an account but didn’t really use it. We would post a photo if we had a show, but that was about it. We realized that wasn’t communicating our individual personalities, and discussed how we could do that more efficiently. We never uploaded selfies until then, but started to post more after we realized that no one knew who played what instrument. 

– HANABIE. utilizes X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram, and even uploaded live videos on YouTube during the COVID-19 pandemic, even before you had a management team. I was amazed at your diligence. 

Matsuri: All of our shows got canceled because of the pandemic. We made videos very diligently back then because we didn’t want to be forgotten. 

– What you did out of necessity during the COVID-19 pandemic has directly connected to your success today.

Matsuri: Exactly. If it wasn’t for the pandemic, we may not have made full use of social media. We learned a lot from our time during COVID-19.

Photography Yoshitake Hamanaka
Translation Mimiko Goldstein

■HANABIE.”O･TA･KU Lovely Densetsu” now streaming

O･TA･KUラブリー伝説 | 花冷え。 | ソニーミュージックオフィシャルサイト

ソニーミュージックによる花冷え。公式サイト。花冷え。の最新ニュースやリリース情報、ビデオ、ライブ・イベント出演情報、メディア情報などを掲載。

www.sonymusic.co.jp

■HANABIE. Major label debut album Reborn Superstar! official website

来世は偉人！ | 花冷え。 (HANABIE.)

Major Debut Album 『来世は偉人！』 2023.7.26 Release! | HANABIE. Major Label Debut Album Reborn Superstar! 2023.7.26 Release

hanabie.jp

The post Interview with HANABIE., the “Harajuku Core” Girls Metal Band in the Global Spotlight, Part 1: It All Started as a Girls’ High School Afterschool Rock Band appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Tujiko Noriko is constantly opening new doors. Some might think this is an overstatement, but the more I listen to Crépuscule I & II, the first solo album she released in three years and nine months, the stronger my conviction becomes. It’s clear that this album is an extension of her previous instrumental work, Kuro, an illustration of the fluctuation of emotions. But with the addition of her vocals, saxophone, and euphonium, she paints a gentle and cinematic soundscape on Crépuscule I & II. The continuum of sounds drifting freely, which could be described as ethereal ambient music, contains an unprecedented degree of human warmth. 22 years have passed since the release of Toshi Shojo in 2001; what lies behind Tujiko Noriko continuing to make music? We were able to talk to her in France via ZOOM.

Looking back on Tujiko Noriko’s previous instrumental album and roots as a singer

–You released Crépuscule I & II on Editions Mego. Your last release on the label was My Ghost Comes Back. When did you start working on your latest album? 

I started recording my vocals around the end of 2019 and finished it in a week or so. I then arranged the music in 2020, and it was basically complete by the beginning of 2021. I intended to mix the album immediately, but some time had passed. Before summer, I sent it to Peter (Rehberg, the founder of Editions Mego), but he passed away suddenly…

–I want to ask you something before discussing Crépuscule I & II. This is your first solo album since the eponymous soundtrack to the film Kuro (2019), which you co-directed with Joji Koyama-san, but you didn’t always make instrumental music. In hindsight, what do you think was good about the album?

It’s surprising that I had almost never made an instrumental piece of work. I was making a film called Kuro then, and my co-director, Joji Koyama-kun, said, “Why don’t you make the music for it too?” I thought it might be overkill for me to write, make, edit, and score the film, but he said it nicely, so I said, “I’ll do it.” When it came time to make the soundtrack, I wasn’t in the mood to sing because the film already had a lot of narration. There was no need for me to come up with a story for the music, so I was like, “I’m just going to follow the film’s story.” I was able to make it with abandon and freedom, and felt relieved because I didn’t have to sing. 

–Are there any film scores or artists who make them you find interesting?

Mica Levi and I come from the same era, and what she does interests me. 

–I had always believed one of the elements that made your music special was your singing, so your instrumental album came as a surprise. What sort of mindset has made you become the singer you are today?

I always have this story or image inside my mind, and I want to translate that into lyrics and sing it. I like small worldbuilding, like telling anecdotes, so I enjoy singing or adding music to depict it. I don’t have a message or anything. It’s not a coincidence that I also make films—I love things with stories. 

–What initially drew you to singing? 

When I was small, we had a cassette deck where you could listen and record sounds. It fascinated me, and my oldest sister and I would record our voices and songs. That was fun. My middle sister complimented me, saying that I was good at singing, which struck a chord with me. I started to feel like singing was fun because of that. 

Crépuscule I & II, made from the idea of hope

–I’d like to ask you about Crépuscule I & II. What was the blueprint for it? 

I made the soundtrack for a film called Surge (SURGE ORIGINAL SOUNDTRACK, released in 2022), and the film was so sad. I had to make music that would fit that, but as I did, I started having more and more fun. I would play sounds that were a bit more sparkly and cheerful, but I knew I couldn’t use them for the film. I had this image of something pretty and optimistic—the word, hope, popped up in my mind.

–How did you write the songs? 

I arranged them a lot, but most of the songs initially started as improvisations. How it sounds to others is a different matter, but I like doing it. I’m shy, but I’m set free whenever I improvise. It’s like I begin feeling unrestrained as I explore things I find beautiful. I listen to the same song over and over again when I arrange my music so I can convey that beautiful moment to the listener. Music is a tool of communication, so I find myself subconsciously looking for a universal place to share with many people. 

–There are some ambient moments in the album. 

I was simultaneously working on a film score, so my approach was to make music that leaned into images. That’s what comes across as ambient-sounding. I like ambient music, but it’s not made with structure at the forefront. 

—Crépuscule I & II is in two parts. Was this intentional?

It was supposed to be three. But when I got Joji Koyama-kun, my dear friend, to listen to it, he said, “Some parts are similar, and it’s a bit too long, no?” (laughs). I tend to add onto things, but Joji-kun helped me reel it in. 

–Joji Koyama-san wrote the lyrics for “Roaming Over Land, Sea and Air.”What idea was this song based on? 

I don’t remember when I made that song, but I used some of the melody from the first song off Shojo Toshi (“Endless End”). This song is like the sibling of “Opening Night” in part one.

Thoughts and feelings that haven’t changed since her debut, and lessons from Peter Rehberg  

–I actually feel like Shojo Toshi and Crépuscule I & II are connected, even if it may not look like it.

You might be right. The equipment, studio, and whatnot differ, but I can’t help being drawn to certain sounds. Yes, I make electronic music, but I like organic sounds that blend into your skin rather than loud ones. Music is always somewhere, and I find and give form to it. 

–It’s been over two decades since your debut. Do you feel as though you’ve changed as a musician? 

It doesn’t feel like I’ve been doing it for a long time. I always feel like I’m a baby. It’s not like I’m stopping myself from growing up; it’s just that I can do so much more. I never run out of ideas and am ready to put out more songs. But I also want to make sure my personal life is okay, too.

–Last question. I heard you decided to release Crépuscule I & II on cassette because you previously sent Peter Rehberg a demo tape. What did you learn from his music as well as working with him? How are the lessons reflected in your life? 

He wasn’t much of a talker. It’s not that he said anything to make me think this, but I felt a warmth from him, one that said I could be free and be myself. That very warmth and attitude encouraged different musicians as well. I also believe the listener could tell, too. He made me feel comfortable doing what I wanted, but that didn’t mean he spoiled me. Also, there’s a slight humor to his music, which made me realize that music with humor that doesn’t fit in a box is important. If it’s just pretty, it’d be boring. I mean, he did have a punk spirit, after all. 

■Tujiko Noriko Japan Tour 2024

・Kyoto
Date: January 9th, 2024 (Tuesday)
Venue: Soto
Venue website: https://soto-kyoto.jp

・Tokyo
Date: January 11th, 2024 (Thursday)
Venue: WWW
Venue website: https://www-shibuya.jp/schedule/017371.php
*The Tokyo show will have live visuals by Berlin-based filmmaker Joji Koyama

・Fukuoka
Date: January 13th, 2024 (Saturday)
Venue: Artist Cafe
Venue website: https://artistcafe.jp

The post The Present and Eternal Sentiment of Tujiko Noriko, an Artist of Otherworldy Sounds appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Mahne Frame
Born in the Australian Bush a couple hundred kilometres from Sydney, Frame moved to Tokyo right before the lockdown and was stuck there for four years during the Corona Disaster, in this time he had the chance to collaborate with Japanese rapper Tohji. He has since moved back to his hometown in the scenic Blue Mountains of Australia.

Upon listening to Mahne Frame’s lead track, ‘WALK LIKE’, the pleasant intoxication of the sound seems reminiscent of Conan Moccasin and Mac DeMarco, but there’s also a somewhat harebrained energy that feels less like resignation and more like a breakthrough towards something new.

What did he think about the difference between the city of Japan and the city where he was born and surrounded by the great outdoors, and how did he complete the EP? I decided to interview him.

Through releasing a collaboration with Tohji, ‘SOMETIMES I TRY NOT TO CARE’ and Aya Gloomy on his own label 21 N FUN, it gives the impression the artist has quite a diverse and unrestricted creativity. When we tried to interview Mahne Frame by email, his answers seemed playful and like he was kidding around, but at the same time, he was actually serious. So, what do you think?

“I’m stuck with just sitting down and seeing what happens.”

ーー First of all, please introduce yourself. Can you tell us about your musical roots and how you got started? Can you tell us about your influences and scenes, if any?

Mahne Frame: Hi my actual name is Mahne Frame, pronounced Mah-Nay Frame. My mum was pretty young when she had me and took me to folk festivals. I grew up in the bush and played a lot of drums. I really hope I get to play in Finland one day so I can dedicate the set to my elderly Finnish neighbors Pentti and Airi who never once complained. Max Rockatansky inspired me to make my own music but lately, I’ve been more inspired by Mark Valencia and Charles Dowding. 

ーー The downer, intoxicating songs that remind me of Mac DeMarco and Conan Moccasin are very appealing. What roots led you to create these songs?

Frame: I’ve never heard of those artists, I’ll check them out. I really wish I could rip off other artists more but I don’t have enough attention span to follow through. So I’m stuck with just sitting down and seeing what happens. When I’m rich, I’ll pay them to write my songs. I genuinely think my music is lacking dishonesty at the moment.

ーー You run your own label, 21 N FUN, that focuses on Japanese sonic and aesthetical ideas. Where did this inspiration come from? What aspects of Japanese culture are you inspired by?

Frame: 21 N FUN is just a general creative outlet. So far, it has concentrated on graphic design, fashion and video production and also functioned as a record label. One of the artists that has been using it as a label is Aya Gloomy who happens to be Japanese. Other than that we don’t have a particular focus on Japanese sonic and aesthetical ideas. Sonically we focus on honesty, aesthetically, we are heavily influenced by the sense of community in football.

ーーHow long did you live in Japan? Please tell us about any inspiring moments of your time in Japan, impressions of the city, or memorable events.

Frame: I was there for 4 years, delivered 1000 Uber eats, and got married. There are so many good vegetables in Japan that I can’t find in Australia. I found some gaps in the vegetable market here that I want to exploit.

ーーDid your collaboration on SOMETIMES I TRY NOT TO CARE (feat. Tohji) in 2020 give you a sense of connection with the Japanese scene?

Frame: I really like Tohji’s darker music like Propella, Oreo and an older track called Snowboarding. After I created SOMETIMES I TRY NOT TO CARE it really needed that kinda energy so I dug around for a link. At the time my good friend from Tokyo, Nuga, was in London and I saw that Tohji followed him so I reached out to see if they actually knew each other. Nuga messaged me back seconds later, shocked because they had just met at that moment and were sitting next to each other at a restaurant in London. So I think we all felt like it was meant to be and Tohji let me sample the vocals from Snowboarding.

ーーWhat changes have you seen in your own songwriting since returning to Australia after your time in Japan?

Frame: I’m not really conscious of Japan vs Australia. I happened to be in Japan when I started this project, but at the end of the day, I’m Australian. I didn’t have any of my guitars in Japan so naturally, I’ve started playing them, and now they are back in front of me. 

ーーIn particular, the music video ‘WALK LIKE’ was filmed against the backdrop of the vast Australian landscape, but it felt like the sound of a Japanese six-mat room, which was an interesting twist for me personally. Where did you get this idea from?

Frame: WALK LIKE was shot around my hometown where I grew up and am living at the moment. I recorded it here too so it should sound more like a brick house in the bush. But maybe I’m stuck in the past.

ーーCan you tell us more about your current life in Katoomba? What changes have you felt after your time in Tokyo? And how do you feel about the geographical Pacific crossing that is happening now that you have signed to a Berlin label?

Frame: I grow a lot of vegetables and work on this project. I wish I had more time to grow vegetables but I’m signed for 2 albums and so I better get that done. It feels like it’s now or never. I’m getting elderly and all I have are EP’s.

ーー Do you have a message for Japanese music listeners and fans?

Frame: Grow something you can eat, even if it’s small. Most of you in Tokyo have a tiny balcony but indoors works too. Japanese negi is an easy place to start. Use organic methods and if you want to level up try a Bokashi compost for working towards serious nutritional density. I really regret not doing that while I was living in Tokyo.

Photography Zac Bayly
Translation Hiroyoshi Tomite
Special Thanks Monkeytown Records

The post “I genuinely think my music is lacking dishonesty at the moment.”The elusive seriousness of Mahne Frame appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

From Left to Right

Takumi Kushida
CEO of Kussy. Takumi Kushida founded Kussy in 2022 after working at Space Shower. He works on TV programs about music, online content, music videos, and other visual content.
Instagram：@kushida_takumi

Ryohei Kaneda
Art director and graphic designer. After working at groovisions, Ryohei Kaneda founded YES, a design studio, in 2019. His multidimensional career includes working on campaigns from top to bottom, branding, books, magazines, products, videos, and spaces.
nstagram：@kanedaryohei

Toshi Miyashita
The CEO of 8%, a creative studio-cum-agency that collaborates with, produces, and designs for artists, IP, music, art, spaces, and more.
Instagram : ＠setagayaboy

Ten to Sen
Owner and buyer of SOKKYOU, a secondhand store in Koenji. He also runs a clothing line, Daughter, online. Ten to Sen is the founder of DENPA!!!
Instagram：@10to1000

“DOME” Presented by DENPA!!!
Instagram：@dome.fest

DENPA!!!, a subcultural party that gained a cult-like following in the 2000s, came back as DOME ‘23. The party has been organized through various means in fashion, art, subcultural circles, and the club scene, such as the GEISAI stage in Taiwan hosted by contemporary artist Takashi Murakami, So Very Show by TAICOCLUB, a collaboration with MTV Japan, and so on. Ten years since their last party, DENPA!!! 2013, the first installation of DOME was held on two floors: Daikanyama UNIT and SALOON. 

In accordance with their statement, “We, the DENPA!!! team, have been working across different cultures and created a new event to manifest our long-awaited childhood dream,” ∈Y∋ opened the night. The braindance genius Bogdan Raczynski, who came to Japan after 20 years, lit up the dancefloor with euphoric breakbeats and four-on-the-floor beats in pitch darkness with no lights or visuals, akin to Autechre.  

Other experimental acts from abroad that performed were experimental glitch techno producer Grischa Lichtenberger and arguably the most crucial figure in China’s contemporary electronic music scene, Howie Lee. Additionally, there were domestic artists like aus, who released an album for the first time in 15 years, world’s end girlfriend, who released an album for the first time in seven years and eight months and performed live for the first time in three years and eight months, Cwondo, the solo project of No Buses’ Taisei Kondo, and BBBBBBB, who released their sophomore album from the American label, Deathbomb Arc.      

The party lasted for around eight hours and was a dreamy experience that didn’t require words; I realized just how amazing it was later on.  

Why did they return as DOME after ten years since their days as DENPA!!!? In the second volume, to understand DOME, we asked the members to share what they discussed before they made a comeback, their hiatus during covid, and how things started moving rapidly this summer. 

Going back to their origins and the change in being earnest due to the times  

–What made you want to make a comeback after ten years?

Ryohei Kaneda: The three of us were drinking in 2019 or so, and we were casually like, “Why don’t we throw a party after all this time?” That was the catalyst. We invited Kushida-kun, and it slowly started coming together. When we were like, “Let’s hit up some venues,” covid happened. 

Ten to Sen: The party ended in 2013 because the escapism I sought in clubs became a part of everyday life. The dreaminess faded away, and it turned into reality. It wasn’t a business, so I felt like something was off and quit at that point. Another reason is that similar events started popping up one after the other. 

I watched where people seeking escapism went next, and outdoor festivals became popular. A few years later, festivals became oversaturated, too. In part a reaction to this development, people started looking for a new space. Then, the Olympics came. There was this intangible frustration, and we were brought together again by a gravitational pull. We wondered if there was anywhere to go to in Tokyo, somewhere that wasn’t a club or festival. We got together knowing we had to do something, even though we only had a vague idea. 

Kaneda: That’s true. We were hungry to create a music event on our own again. My day-to-day job is mainly based on commissions from clients, so I don’t have a lot of opportunities to take the lead and create content from scratch. I started remembering how we were paving a new wave or way of being of culture through DENPA!!! 

Ten to Sen: Before I realized it, music was streaming-based, it became difficult to go outside, and we became physically distant; I was yearning to connect. When we got together, I knew that we wouldn’t do it in the future unless we did it then because I’m from a generation that knows that feeling. We had to do it while the passion and dreams we had in the past were still tangible. I was motivated to see what that looked like once more. 

–It’s like you returned to the fundamental motivation you previously had.

Ten to Sen: Whenever people take action, there’s a demand from society, which was ramped up because of covid. For instance, activists emphasize putting out a statement when they hold a big event. Of course, that’s vital, but I began to question how people would have events as a response to society. Initially, we were driven by our internal drive or, I guess you can call it sincerity, this feeling of “I want to do something like this” or “This is what I want to see.” That feeling boiled inside of me until DOME happened. 

I think “solidarity” is the keyword here. The interpretation of this word differs from person to person, but I questioned how people always clung to it. You hear this word over and over because reality doesn’t reflect it. Meaning it’s a manifestation of the structure of conflict between generations and ideologies.

Ultimately, solidarity, in the narrowest sense of the word, feels similar to cliquey vibes and in-crowd communities that I used to encounter at fashion parties. I held events to get rid of such borders. 

Now, more than ever, you’ll see similar artists, DJs, ages, and ways of thinking at club events. I understand the social situation in which people can’t protect their own spaces otherwise, but it’s different from the festival-like spaces I had carved out. 

Toshi Miyashita: DENPA!!! was really distinct and stood out. The lineup is essential, but that’s not everything. It played the role of something like a left-field music and culture trade fair that you’d want to be a part of regardless of who was performing.

Ten to Sen: True. We wanted to go back to our roots with DOME. The process started with reevaluating everything, including the fact that I used to like noise music and that everyone used to like WARP RECORDS. 

This is off-topic, but some people make fun of this demographic called “NewJeans Ojisan” (ojisan translates to middle-aged man), which refers to those who only recognize NewJeans and don’t follow preceding Korean artists. But that means some people can be called Aphex Kids. Most people know of Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, or Autechre but don’t know of Bogdan, who we invited to the party. By that logic, those people are the same as NewJeans Ojisan.

I believe each person starts liking artists according to their own timeline, and it doesn’t matter how they’re introduced to them. The impetus for booking artists for DOME was this intense desire to introduce artists who are still unknown. 

Bogdan, Grischa Lichtenberger, and Howie Lee are still not very well-known in Japan, but we invited them because we felt like their experimental spirit and our strong motivation spoke to each other. 

Toshi: Bogdan immediately told us yes. It wasn’t intentional, but a common theme for this party was that most artists don’t have an agent. I’m not saying whether having one is bad or good. We have people who make music independently and uniquely. Regarding booking artists, it was important for us to have a heartfelt approach. The same goes for how we promoted the event; it was an extension of the simple truth that we like what we like. 

Takumi Kushida: It’s the manifestation of sincerity. In a way, I’m the most on the outs, and my background is very different from the rest. DOME was fun in a different way from the first time I encountered the members of DENPA!!! The shape of sincerity is different. With DENPA!!!, I was simply surprised that there was a form of fun that I didn’t know existed, even though I knew they were doing something really alternative. Overlooking the fact that I was involved in booking the artists, DOME was distinct from the previous party in terms of emotion and purity, even if you were a customer.

A festival-like environment that became normalized

Ten to Sen: As for DENPA!!!, although it was hard to see, there was a decent amount of like-minded people—this is coming from someone who felt withdrawn and on the outskirts of society. This festival-like space was born because I tried getting rid of that wall, but because of that, the party became more normalized and neutral. 

DENPA!!! became the standard model to start an event at the time. That dream I had upon founding DENPA!!! materialized, but now it’s too visible; it’s too much. Our fundamental mindset is the same, but our approach to DOME differs from DENPA!!!

Kaneda: Nowadays, you can stream or listen to music on YouTube. You can also watch festivals at home, as they’re livestreamed. Things are more convenient now, but music used to be something you had to seek proactively. Now, we’re on the receiving end; it trickles down, and there’s less substance and weight to people’s stories of discovering music. It’s hard to create memories surrounding that experience. 

You would’ve had to dig through records or go to clubs and events to discover certain music. Today, you can quickly look up and listen to a song someone recommends online. Even if it feels like you’ve learned about that song, that moment is only brief and won’t last in your memory. The fact that discovering music became shallow made me feel apathetic and discontent. 

Ten to Sen: Usually, live shows have a fixed number of fans who know the performing act, and the vibe, including the age group, is usually established. I wanted to go beyond that. For example, BBBBBBB-san, who performed at DOME, messaged me, saying, “It was such a great experience, performing in front of a different age group than usual. I had a lot of fun.” I wanted people in their late 30s to 50s to listen to BBBBBBB because they probably didn’t have a lot of opportunities to do so. Cwondo-kun is in his 20s, and we also had legends like ∈Y∋-san. 

For us, it doesn’t matter what generation you are. We want to open up the space for people to listen to music freely without us having to tell them what category it belongs to. Compared to DENPA!!!, I was more conscious of that this time around. 

Kushida: We’re very earnest about music. Usually, you’d have something like fandoms. But we don’t have that. We put the focus on the music and clearly demonstrated that age doesn’t matter when it comes to the pure act of listening to music. None of us gets bored listening to songs, even if they’re from an artist we don’t know. 

Ten to Sen: Many circles prioritize the universal language of playing songs everyone knows, like people getting hyped up when DJs play hits. I’m more of the type that feels moved when people play songs I don’t know.

Kushida: I mean, we weren’t even informed of what Howie Lee planned to do.

Ten to Sen: Currently, information is increasingly being prioritized. What illustrates this is that it’s become the norm for virtually everyone to take videos for their Instagram at shows or clubs. Recording, posting, and sharing parties online is at the center now. Ill-Bosstino of The Blue Herb said a while back, “We have a professional cameraman here, so don’t worry about taking videos. You’re a professional audience, so please watch us live.” I thought that was cool! 

My generation seeks or feels moved by passion, groove, and witnessing things in the moment rather than documenting them. I’m not saying you can’t take videos, though. I do it at times, too. 

（Continued in Vol. 3）

Photography Masashi Ura
Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post The Legendary Subcultural Party, DENPA!!!, Returns as DOME After a Decade: Vol. 2 Committing to Being Earnest appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

(From left to right)
Takumi Kushida
CEO of Kussy. Takumi Kushida founded Kussy in 2022 after working at Space Shower. He works on TV programs about music, online content, music videos, and other visual content.
Instagram：@kushida_takumi

Ryohei Kaneda
Art director and graphic designer. After working at groovisions, Ryohei Kaneda founded YES, a design studio, in 2019. His multidimensional career includes working on campaigns from top to bottom, branding, books, magazines, products, videos, and spaces.
Instagram：@kanedaryohei

Ten to Sen
Owner and buyer of SOKKYOU, a secondhand store in Koenji. He also runs a clothing line, Daughter, online. Ten to Sen is the founder of DENPA!!!
Instagram：@10to1000

Toshi Miyashita
The CEO of 8%, a creative studio-cum-agency that collaborates with, produces, and designs for artists, IP, music, art, spaces, and more.
Instagram : ＠setagayaboy

“DOME” Presented by DENPA!!!
Instagram：@dome.fest

DENPA!!!, a subcultural party that gained a cult-like following in the 2000s, came back as DOME ‘23. The party has been organized through various means in fashion, art, subcultural circles, and the club scene, such as the GEISAI stage in Taiwan hosted by contemporary artist Takashi Murakami, So Very Show by TAICOCLUB, a collaboration with MTV Japan, and so on. Ten years since their last party, DENPA!!! 2013, the first installation of DOME was held on two floors: Daikanyama UNIT and SALOON.

In accordance with their statement, “We, the DENPA!!! team, have been working across different cultures and created a new event to manifest our long-awaited childhood dream,” ∈Y∋ opened the night. The braindance genius Bogdan Raczynski, who came to Japan after 20 years, lit up the dancefloor with euphoric breakbeats and four-on-the-floor beats in pitch darkness with no lights or visuals, akin to Autechre. 

Other experimental acts from abroad that performed were experimental glitch techno producer Grischa Lichtenberger and arguably the most crucial figure in China’s contemporary electronic music scene, Howie Lee. Additionally, there were domestic artists like aus, who released an album for the first time in 15 years, world’s end girlfriend, who released an album for the first time in seven years and eight months and performed live for the first time in three years and eight months, Cwondo, the solo project of No Buses’ Taisei Kondo, and BBBBBBB, who released their sophomore album from the American label, Deathbomb Arc.     

The party lasted for around eight hours and was a dreamy experience that didn’t require words; I realized just how amazing it was later on. 

Why did they return as DOME after ten years since their days as DENPA!!!? In the first volume, we got Ten to Sen, who founded DENPA!!!, to look back on the party’s history along with Toshi Miyashita, Ryohei Kaneda, and Takumi Kushida.

A festival-like space born in 2007

–How did DENPA!!! first come about?

Ten to Sen: I was born in 1984 and am part of what you’d call the “Kireru 17-sai” generation (translates to “the 17-year-old that snapped,” and refers to youth around 17 years old, born between 1982 to 1986, who committed violent crimes around the year 2000; those born between those years were sometimes called the Kireru 17-sai generation). It was around when I was in upper elementary, and Evangelion was on TV. Kireru 17-sai became a social phenomenon, and hope, despair, and this mood that said, “It wasn’t supposed to be this way” spread in society. Our generation spent our youth in such times. We’re all two years apart, so we grew up under similar circumstances, but two of our members lived abroad before, so I’m sure they had time to look at Japan from a bird’s eye view. Or rather, they had a place of belonging outside of Japan.

On the contrary, I always felt like I didn’t have a place to belong in Tokyo. At the time, the music I listened to was ambient, electronica, noise, breakcore, and other underground genres that weren’t known in Japanese society. It was as though the music allowed me to escape somewhere else, and it saved me. I used to frequent Warszawa Records, which used to be in Shibuya. I was also in the fashion industry and used to swing by parties and events. But most of the music they played was hit songs, and people you’d call influencers today were the DJs. I used to be at the edge of the bar counter and feel out of place. For better or worse, there was a distinct cliquey-ness, and this feeling of “This place isn’t for me” bubbled up inside me. 

–It was also a time when the media was undergoing a huge change.

Ten to Sen: That’s right. It was also the dawn of this culture of getting your picture taken. When digital media gained more momentum than print media, party photos peaked, and the reason people went to parties shifted from listening to music to being about status. It was like the fact that you were there was important and worthy. This shift made me feel hopeless. Eventually, I felt this strong urge to be free from withdrawing within myself. That was the initial driving force to start DENPA!!! 

Takumi Kushida: Was DENPA!!! founded by you three? 

Ten to Sen: It was initially started by me, who had zero friends. When it came time to break through that locked-up feeling, I wanted to eliminate the idea of lumping things together by category or generation because I didn’t like it, like music, fashion, or whatever. I liked the culture nerds had, but I didn’t belong there either. 

So, I began wanting to run countercultural events that would remove those borders through music that wasn’t widespread in society. When I organized events with such challenges in mind, artists and customers of all kinds started coming. The fact that I was an amateur at booking artists and, therefore, was a mess played a part, but as a result, the dancefloor’s consciousness expanded, creating an altered state of mind. The borders melted away, and it felt good. It was like a dream; a festival-like space was born. That infectious energy spread far and wide. 

Toshi Miyashita: I happened to be in England then, and my close friend at language school was in a long-distance relationship with a Japanese girl who was an early member of DENPA!!! This might’ve only applied to my environment, but there was a lot of aggressive music, like breakcore and experimental music, in England at the time. Some parties played anime music and breakcore mashups. I had older acquaintances from the music label, 19-t, and I got into that kind of music. The girl in Japan was throwing a party where an artist called CDR was performing, and she said, “Don’t you like this artist?” I had never spoken about such music in Japan, so I said, “I want to meet the organizer when I come back to Japan.” And that organizer was Ten. 

Ten to Sen: This girl I wasn’t too close with said, “There’s a person that wants to meet you, so come over to my place” (laughs).

Toshi: Back then, mixi was popular, and you could get an idea of what kind of person was in the community, so you oddly felt close to people. We met and became friends, and I started joining them after their second party as a DJ and booker. 

Ten to Sen: People started getting together after I screamed over a megaphone to promote our event at the beginning of DENPA!!! when Gap still existed at the Omotesando crossing. I probably announced events on mixi too, and many people started coming to me, saying they wanted to help. Kaneda-kun shared a house with one of those people. 

Ryohei Kaneda: I lived with my best friend, one of the founding members of DENPA!!! Before we started throwing parties, those who were members at the time would come over to our house. I loved WARP RECORDS and Rephlex and listened to everything they released at the time. We all became close and naturally became a family. 

Leading up to 2013, when a new chapter was made  

Ten to Sen: From that point onwards, we saw a steady increase in people joining us. For instance, around midway [in our history], we were approached by Space Shower TV about a project called DAX, which combined music and video. We were cast on a TV show, like a welcome party for new employees in the video broadcasting department, even though we were barely informed about the content. 

Toshi: We were also on a weird episode about all of us at a cherry blossom viewing. There was a cherry blossom viewing set in the studio, and we were invited to this traditional tiered stage. 

Ten to Sen: The new employee for that project was Kushida-kun. We connected because we hit it off during commercial breaks; it was like we could talk in a common language.

Kushida: I’m from the Kansai region, so I consumed a different type of breakcore from the mentioned context. Kansai Zero Sedai, whom people called the children of Boredoms, was at the top of their game. Afrirampo, Oshiripenpenz, and ZUINOSIN were regarded as the big three; they were huge. With that said, it might’ve been a movement of a total of 1,000 people, but there were so many fun events. Looking at DENPA!!! from the chaotic breeding ground of Kansai noise and breakcore, they seemed different. They looked genuinely cool to me, as though they represented an ethos I was unfamiliar with. We then started talking to one another. 

Ten to Sen: Since the formation of DENPA!!! in 2007, we had our last event in 2013. Back then, Kushida-kun used to come to our events as someone who worked at Space Shower. He’d take photos and broadcast our events.

Kushida: I used to go as an AD. Sometimes, I’d shoot my older colleagues’ show. But it was fun. The audience, too. 

Kaneda: I started officially helping out around the third or fourth event. I helped out occasionally and started making flyers on my own. We lived in a house, so everyone would hang out every day. People would go home during the day and return to ours at night… they were basically at our place eight times a week. 

Ten to Sen: We never got together to strategize or discuss details.

Everyone: We didn’t.

Ten to Sen: We had events bi-monthly in 2007 and began to have them regularly by 2009. In my head, 2010 marked the end of one chapter. I thought I was done, but someone posted online without my knowledge there would be another party in 2011. I found out while sitting on a massage chair at a public bathhouse (laughs). But I became infected and driven by the members’ desire to hold a party and was drawn to that sort of power.

(Continued in Vol. 2) 

Photography Masashi Ura

The post The Legendary Subcultural Party, DENPA!!!, Returns as DOME After a Decade: Vol. 1 A Festival-like Energy appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.