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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–How did you work on it?

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

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

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

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

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

Sharing sensibilities through music

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The real situation of Thailand’s indie music scene

–What is Thai indie music scene is like now?

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

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

–STUTS, have you ever been to Thailand?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–Noi Naa, how do you feel about this?

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

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

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

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

Photography Tameki Oshiro
Translation Shinichito Sato

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

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

What is the message contained in the products created by these two men, who are deeply immersed in the culture they have discovered and continue to give shape to their ideas through fashion and art, after hitting it off with each other? This would be the most powerful collaboration that will make the scene even more fascinating in the future.

JUN INAGAWA
JUN INAGAWA was born in 1999 in Tokyo, Japan. In 2012, he moved to San Diego, U.S.A. His drawings gradually gained recognition from the players of street culture, such as skateboarding and hip-hop scenes, in LA, leading to an offer for collaboration from A$AP ROCKY. After returning to Japan in 2018, he has been active as an up-and-coming artist with his unique style that connects anime and street culture. He has collaborated with apparel brands, provided artwork to music artists, and is also active as a DJ. Currently, he hosts a monthly party called “MAD MAGIC ORCHESTRA.” On April 7, Magical Destroyers (TBS and its affiliated TV stations), the TV anime series based on INAGAWA’s original story, for which he is also in charge of illustrating, was started. He also started a 3-piece electro band, Flog3.
Instagram：@madmagicorchestra

Shinsuke Takizawa
Creative director of NEIGHBORHOOD Shinsuke Takizawa was born in 1967. After working at FILE RECORDS inc. as a record label manager for MAJOR FORCE, he started NEIGHBORHOOD, a brand inspired by motorcycle culture and military style, in 1994. It has become a globally recognized brand representing Japan from Harajuku, with stores throughout Japan and Asia and distributors in Europe, Asia, the U.S., Australia, and other countries, demonstrating its enduring popularity. In March 2023, the brand opened a new store in Taiwan.
https://www.neighborhood.jp
Instagram：@neighborhood_official
Instagram：@sin_takizawa

His story and mindset were just interesting and surprising.

–First of all, JUN, please tell us how you came to know about NEIGBORHOOD.

JUN INAGAWA (JUN): A very good friend of mine, who is like an uncle to me, has always loved NEIGBORHOOD. Although he is not related to me by blood, he has been like a mentor who taught me about the culture.

Shinsuke Takizawa (Takizawa): Wait! You are not related to him by blood！？I thought he was your real uncle (laughs).

JUN: We are so close that I keep calling him “uncle.” He’s called “NORI,” and he’s been closer to me than my parents since I was little, and he’s the one who taught me about culture other than anime. I saw him wearing NEIGHBORHOOD’s T-shirts and accessories, and I had been interested in what it was about since I was a little kid. So I bought some incense the first time I went to the Harajuku store. I loved the smell of the incense when I entered the store. I used to go to the store before it was renovated, but I didn’t even know the word “Ura-Hara (the common name given to the network of smaller Harajuku backstreets)” back then. That was when I was about 18 years old, right after returning from America.

Takizawa: You came to our collection with that “uncle” guy. We met for the first time, and that was four or five years ago, I think. That’s when I heard about you and learned you were an artist.

–I first learned about the close relationship between JUN and NEIGHBORHOOD through “HUMUNGUS,” an event held during the COVID pandemic. Takizawa-san, were you interested in the youth culture that JUN was involved in?

Takizawa: I’m not particularly fond of anime, but I found his story and mindset interesting and very surprising. If he were just one of those young artists, I would not have connected with him, but we could get together probably because he knew the culture of, say Ura-Harajuku. My daughter is 20 years old this year, so JUN is like a son to me (laughs).

JUN: He told me that his daughter likes anime. I didn’t have much of a preconceived idea about Takizawa-san. It could have been different if I had been a big fan of him for like ten years, but I was happy to have conversations with him casually even though I was supposed to treat him with greater respect because he was much older than me.

Takizawa: What is interesting about him is that he not only draws animation but also creates his own pieces of work, and he hung out with A$AP ROCKY when he was in the US. And yet, he also has a deep knowledge of Ura-Hara culture. It’s all a mystery. I’m like, “What the hell is this boy?”

JUN: I have answered this question in every interview, but people don’t seem to understand it. I don’t know how to tell them either. To put it simply, I was just one of those anime geeks, but I got hooked on skate videos that my uncle taught me. My anime-style drawings of skateboarders who belonged to the community around Supreme and Fucking Awesome went viral on Social Networking Sites, leading to getting to know A$AP Bari and then to a collaboration with VLONE. But at the time, I knew nothing about A$AP ROCKY, Bari, or hip-hop. The only music I knew was anime songs and Mr. Children. But then I started working with them.

Takizawa: So you were not particularly interested in hip-hop?

JUN: Well, I was interested in people who were doing hip-hop. I wondered why they were interested in hip-hop, drinking outside, skating, and having fun. When I talked to them, I learned that some were from disadvantaged families and had various reasons for getting together. All these things led me to meet Takizawa-san after coming back to Tokyo. That was when I was 18 years old.

Takizawa: When we were 18, we had a lot of input from the people around us. Back then, I met Hiroshi (Fujiwara) in Tokyo and learned about various club music, so I guess people reach the stage of input at the age of 18.

New cultural trends are born out of rebellious spirit.

JUN: When I returned to Tokyo and met all the people I’m working with now, I was in a state where I could accept anything. I took inspiration from various things and digested them in my mind. Until I turned 20, I took in everything, digested it all, and tried to make my works out of the chaos. So in the early stages of my career, I would paint on the walls, and it was a mess. When I was around 18 or 19, I was rebelling against something; I don’t know why though.

Takizawa: That’s one of those things you want to do when you get to that age. You want to be passionate about something and do what you want to do, even if it means making imaginary enemies.

JUN: That’s when I started making the kind of animations that are on TV now. So my way of thinking was changing quickly. I was 19 years old when I made the animation being broadcast currently, so this work is from a very long time ago. And I did my first collaboration with NEIGHBORHOOD in 2020, right?

–-Takizawa-san, was it you who asked for a collaboration?

Takizawa: I’m not sure. It was like, “Let’s do something!” but I don’t remember in detail. We just came up with the idea when having a normal conversation.

JUN: I also like the “Let’s do something” attitude as an extension of something else. What often happens to me is that even if someone says, “Let’s do something!,” nothing happens. I have decided to remove myself from such people. They are not interested in me. Conversely, those who support me and think I am an interesting person will definitely make something happen, making me believe that I’ve found a missing piece of the puzzle.

Takizawa: On top of that, he was kind enough to create a helmet with a story and gave it to me as a gift, and although he is as young as my child, we have a relatively collegial relationship.

–In terms of what can be associated with helmets, Takizawa-san’s and JUN’s ideas may have something in common.

Takizawa: As far as I’m concerned, helmets reminds me of the band The Timers.

JUN: Come to think of it, Takizawa-san mentioned The Timers. I was also very interested in what the club scene was like when he was younger. So he told me many stories about when he was my age. Then, when I was 18, I saw The Timers’ PV and thought, “This is it!”.

Takizawa: One wouldn’t usually think so even if one sees The Timers’ music video at the age of 18 (laughs).

JUN: I guess I saw a video of them singing a song that included words banned on TV. That looked absolutely cool. Punk is an attitude, not a fashion. And I thought, “They are doing punk properly.” There are a lot of people in punk fashion now. But I’m like, “That’s not punk!”. More specifically, their attitude is not punk. I didn’t expect much, but The Timers were a very proper and extreme punk band. That’s how I fell in love with Japanese punk and started digging Malcolm McLaren and other foreign bands.

Magical Girl and UZI, inspired by ATARI TEENAGE RIOT

–Please tell us about the figures you created together for this project.

Takizawa: I really wanted to make an incense burner, but this time I decided to make a figure. At first, I was going to make one with a UZI (Israeli machine pistol) attached to its head, from which incense smoke would come out, but this was impossible due to structural problems. However, the finished product was very satisfactory, more delicate, and heavier than the one made of ceramics. This is the second time I have collaborated with Jun, but the first time we have made a three-dimensional piece from a two-dimensional work. So it was a big step forward. We also made T-shirts and incense. I like the fact that UZI is on the figure’s head.

JUN: I have never drawn a magical girl with UZI on her head before. I put it on her head because I found an Atari Teenage Riot T-shirt with a UZI printed on the back, and I drew it as it was. Then I watched ATARI’s videos and learned that they had previously worked with NEIGHBORHOOD.

–I remember that when NEIGHBORHOOD held a show as part of Fashion Week in the past, the show was a live performance of Atari Teenage Riot instead of a runway show. That way of launching the collection was just so surprising.

Takizawa: That was not a fashion show! (Laughs.) Instead of having a runway, the members of the band were wearing our clothes during the show. The people who came to see the show must have expected a runway, so when it started, they were like, “What the hell is this?” 

JUN: That’s sick! But I kind of understand why Takizawa-san wanted to have a live show instead of a runway when doing a fashion show. When I do a project, I also feel like I want to destroy it. Of course, I still stick to my common sense, though.

Takizawa: I tried to destroy the idea of a runway show by showing “DESTROY FASHION” on the LCD monitor. So it’s also lovely to hear that JUN sampled this UZI from ATARI.

JUN: It would also be nice if the flags bounced out of the UZIs! (laughs).

Takizawa: (laughs).

JUN: Aside from inspirations from Atari, this twin-tail hair was derived initially from an anime I created. I drew this girl when I collaborated with NEIGHBORHOOD for the first time. She had purple hair and UZI. This time, the brand made this girl into a three-dimensional figure.

As for making a piece of art, I am not familiar with contemporary art, and I have lived my life without being exposed to the world of art. Visual art requires experience, money, and space. And I have a problem with capitalism. In other words, I’m not too fond of the idea that art is only about what can make money. That’s why I like communicating with people through my feelings and emotion, like when I made the helmet and gave it to Takizawa-san. I like to draw pictures, so when I meet people, I always draw their portraits, but I sometimes get told that this lowers the value of my work of art. But I like how it can get through speedily to people, just like when one draws graffiti vigorously on a wall.

Takizawa: That is very artistic in a true sense.

JUN: (Looking at the works displayed in the press room) Whose work is this?

Takizawa: Kostas (Seremetis).

JUN: I have always thought this piece was cool and wondered who it was by. We are going to do a pop-up to mark the launch of the collaboration, and I’m thinking of painting my first Kostas-inspired canvas work at that time. I have never painted on canvas, but I decided to try painting something of this size. Takizawa-san was also the one who allowed me to do that.

Takizawa: Yeah, you should try painting that.

JUN: I thought drawing something just by following my impulse would be okay. I would like to rent an ample space in the NEIGHBORHOOD and try it out. I am still exploring and challenging various things, so I don’t have anything that can introduce myself, like, “This is JUN INAGAWA!”

Takizawa: But, as can be seen from your music and DJing, you have been absorbing plenty of things and changing drastically over the past few years.

Passing on culture through crossovers transcending generations and genres

—In terms of JUN’s DJ, I saw your DJ set the other day, and that was insanely cool. It was like an improvisational live show, using all the equipment available.

JUN: If I had four CDJs in front of me, I would use them all. And if a mixer has this many functions, let’s use them all. Then, instead of using them randomly, I would think about how I could make the best use of them. I learned this from watching the Chemical Brothers live. What is interesting about our generation is that the Chemical Brothers’ songs are anthems for Takizawa-san’s generation. Older DJs are too embarrassed to play their songs, but we found them through digging in our case so we can play them without hesitation. We play them because we think they are really cool. This kind of music needs to be passed on more and more to us, the younger generation.

Takizawa: I think this is one of the charms of JUN; he can be a good hub between the older and younger generations. His communication skills are very high, and it is necessary for him to play such a role.

JUN: Perhaps, my initially vague ideas have gradually crystallized. As I continue to create, I slowly understand what I like. That goes for the same with DJ; if you are an artist who paints while DJing or a model who also DJs, you are often looked down upon. Often, they can only DJ in front of their own people, but they are not allowed to DJ with what we call “real” DJs.

But I wanted to perform with people like Shinichi Osawa and Takkyu Ishino. I don’t want to call myself a DJ until I reach that level. Now, I devote much time to practicing DJ instead of drawing pictures, and I will work on it more seriously. I’m sure that DJing and making art will finally be interconnected. For example, in anime, you create a story comprising an introduction, development, turn, and conclusion. You also create this kind of structure and development when you perform in front of an audience.

Takizawa: As for DJs, do you carefully prepare your set before playing? 

JUN: I create a story in advance; I think of the one-night event as one story, I make a story, and then I book DJs accordingly. For example, the protagonist wakes up in the woods, and the story begins there. In that case, we book a DJ who can produce a forest-like sound. The story then goes as follows: the protagonist finds a UFO placed outside the forest, the UFO abducts and takes him to another planet, where he dances in a club, and so on. After creating such a story, I come up with and book another DJ. It’s a lot of fun to do that all night long.

Takizawa: Oh, so you create a concrete story for each event. It would be great if you could connect your generation with the older generation in that way. The younger generations have their own great things, and it is interesting to cross them together.

–Takizawa-san, in another interview published the other day, you talked about passing the culture onto the next generation. Is collaboration with the new generation of artists one of them?

Takizawa: Yeah. Each generation and genre has its own culture already established there, and it is acceptable to develop it in a completely different context. However, I think going back and forth between eras and cross them is even more important. It shouldn’t be that difficult if we have a collegial relationship where we can respect each other at the root.

JUN: My interactions with Takizawa-san were simple, which was great. I just enjoyed it. He gladly accepted my request when I asked him to make costumes for the band (Flog3).

Takizawa: It was just a spontaneous decision to say, “Let’s make costumes” (laughs). It would be great if I made the costumes and they wore them and performed on stage.

–Takizawa-san, how about starting a music label with NEIGHBORHOOD?

Takizawa: Yeah, that sounds nice. I want to do something related to music since the name of the incense (“Pacific”) that JUN has been buying for himself for a long time is also named after the British band 808 State.

JUN: Oh I didn’t know that! That’s what I like about NEIGHBORHOOD. That’s what makes me fall in love with it so much.

Takizawa: Nowadays, the younger generation is digging the Harajuku fashion of the 1990s, right? We were also digging up what the older generation had done, which is very interesting.

JUN: It must be a loop. I always talk about this in my interviews, but when we talk about anime, motorcycles, fashion, music, or anything else, everyone’s eyes sparkle when they talk about what they like. It’s just that the genres are different, but everyone has a passion, and everyone is a serious otaku. We all share the same energy for the things we love. That is why I always use the word “otaku.

Photography Takaki Iwata
Edit Shuichi Aizawa
Translation Shinichiro Sato

The post A Brand New World of Otaku Created by “NEIGHBORHOOD” and JUN INAGAWA appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

DYGL
DYGL is a four-piece, guitar-based rock band comprised of Nobuki Akiyama (guitar/vocals), Yotaro Kachi (bass), Yosuke Shimonaka (guitar), and Kohei Kamoto (drums/guitar). They formed the band in 2012 as part of an after-school club in university and have stayed in countries like US and England for long periods. All of their songs are in English. Their first album, Say Goodbye to Memory Den (2017), was produced by Albert Hammond Jr. (The Strokes) and garnered attention from many media outlets in and out of the country as an exciting indie rock band. They released their second album, Songs of Innocence & Experience, in 2019. They had a successful six-month album tour spanning 53 cities worldwide; they had sold-out shows not only in Japan but also in Beijing, Shanghai, and New York. In 2021, DYGL released their third album, A DAZE IN A HAZE, and Thirst, their fourth album, in 2022.Kicking off with their show on January 20th, 2023, in Tokyo, the band is going on a 12-show Japan tour. Further, they’re going on their US tour in March.  
https://dayglotheband.com
Twitter：@dayglotheband
Instagram：@dayglotheband
YouTube：@DYGL

YOSUKE TSUCHIDA （YOKKE）
Born in Kyoto. Yosuke Tsuchida, AKA YOKKE, mainly designs and directs album covers, such as those by DYGL, NOT WONK, and mitsume. He also works in many fields, such as graphic design for brands and logo and website designs. He has made music as part of Faron Square and White Wear and is also one of the people who ran the indie label Cuz Me Pain, which started in the early 2010s. After making music with Jesse Ruins, which released music from the American indie label, Captured Tracks, YOKKE formed the rock band WOOMAN and released A NAME (2019) through Kilikilivilla. As such, he is still active in music.
http://yosuketsuchida.com
Twitter：@yyokke_
Twitter：@vvomanmusic
Instagram：@yyokke_

This conversation between DYGL’s frontman, Nobuki Akiyama, and designer and leader of band WOOMAN, Yosuke Tsuchida AKA YOKKE, who designed the album artwork, commemorates the release of the band’s latest album, Thirst. In the second part of their conversation, they first break down some songs from the album. Thirst embodies the band’s determined attitude to take on challenges and a new musicality. Their conversation gradually shifts to a serious topic: how they want to change society through music, respectively. I hope you can tune into and be moved by their down-to-earth yet hopeful words.  

—Which song did you especially like in Thirst?  

YOKKE: Hmm… The first one that comes to mind is “I Wish I Could Feel.” My impression of the song drastically changed after listening to the demo and the complete version. Once I heard the finished version, it was as if I had seen the right answer. I understood what it was they wanted to do. They used autotune in their intro-ish song on the previous album, but they fully incorporated it on “I Wish I Could Feel.” It was amazing how it was so cohesive. That song represents the album.  

—DYGL uses autotune on a couple of other songs. It stood out on “Sandalwood,” too.  

YOKKE: “Sandalwood” has a very strange mood. It has a guitar-based pop sound, but it also makes you go like, “What is this?” Akiyama-kun’s vocals sound incredible during the latter half of it. He sounds lonely and like he’s withering away; I’m so impressed he could vocalize like that. I also felt that how they created a groove by repeating the same phrase repeatedly in the tenth song, “The Philosophy of the Earth,” was new.  

—“The Philosophy of the Earth,” which has strong trad and neo-acoustic elements, is a masterpiece. 

YOKKE: I loved the last song, “Phosphorescent / Never Wait.” The structure, where two songs are connected, is interesting and reminds me of DYGL in their early days.  

Nobuki Akiyama: For me, it’s clear we wanted that song to be an emo one (laughs). This is our interpretation of it. During these past two years, thanks to a friend, I had the chance to rediscover emo music again. There’s a band in that vein called ANORAK!, who I used to watch live, and they’re brilliant. They partially influenced the song. One of the things we wanted to do was express sadness and loneliness through the guitar while singing loudly. Many things informed the completion of “Phosphorescent / Never Wait.” I feel satisfied with how we put out a song that shows our new side, and I’m happy that you could still sense the elements that make us, us.  

YOKKE: It has a vibe reminiscent of late 90s emo music, like The Promise Ring. The intro of “Salvation” is also emo-ish. “Phosphorescent / Never Wait” sounds amazing live. In the recorded version, they keep it contained to a certain degree, but when they play that song live, they let go; it sounds super emo. I want people to listen to that song live.  

Making interesting music with bandmates you love is a blessing 

—This album sounds more diverse than before. 

Akiyama: A significant reason is how we can now be musically adventurous and play around with creativity. Because of my pickiness, we couldn’t play around with sounds in an uninhibited way for a long time. I changed massively after our previous album, and I have more space to breathe regarding my life and music. Because of that, I can enjoy different things more. I sometimes find myself thinking it’s a blessing to make exciting music with bandmates I love while feeling so at peace.  

YOKKE: Some songs have noise effects, but it’s not apparent. I like how the noise blends in. I sensed growth in them because they could do that by themselves. As a band, everything is coming into focus for them. They sound modern but don’t follow trends; I believe DYGL’s music is universal. Whenever I design their artwork, I try to create something timeless that doesn’t make you sense a particular era. I want to make artwork that people could think is cool 50 years from now when they find it at Disc Union. 

Akiyama: Right. We were conscious of words like “universal” and “timeless” around the time we made our first album. I used to use them in interviews too. That hasn’t changed, but I developed another way of thinking too. Now, I feel like it’s okay for our music to be forgotten 100 years from now. Only a handful of music from a century ago is left today. We don’t listen to it daily. Even with incredible talents like George Gershwin, his music doesn’t feel “real.” Those unfamiliar with his work will react with, “Who?” We learn about people like him in textbooks—that’s how distant it feels. Of course, it would be nice if we could make music that would last because of how it touches people, like The Beatles. However, what’s important to me are my relationships with people I’m connected to and the spirit of “How am I living my life today?” My name or music might not last, but my spirit might. My name or my band’s name—Akiyama and DYGL—might not be remembered, but my memories with other people and the feelings I fostered in my community might be passed down in an intangible way. I’ve been pondering on this recently.  

—I agree. 

Akiyama: Also, I believe art made by people that are opposite to those that strive for a particular universality, like those who incorporate many trends and deal with their feelings all they want, become more real at that moment, so their art could be passed down as a universal thing. So, of course, universality is something I still value, but my approach has been changing. 

YOKKE: On the topic of what’s real, I want to make things that are sincere and not contrived. Stories are important, and I think about whether something is cohesive. In that sense, I can work collaboratively with DYGL, so it’s effortless.  

Akiyama: Regarding our previous artworks, too, we’ve dealt with them with the same enthusiasm as our music, so we want to be involved in the making of everything DYGL-related. I’m grateful that YOKKE-san talks to us during his process. 

YOKKE: We worked on the artwork from the brainstorming stage, so on the credits, it says we co-directed it. We made this together in a profound way.  

—Akiyama-san, you touched on why you used a painting by Tamao Shirai-san, your childhood friend and painter, for the cover in the first part of this conversation. What about Shirai-san’s painting was appealing to you? 

YOKKE: The keyword “thirst” came first. I think Akiyama-kun described the current zeitgeist, like covid, war, and people not being free and holding back, as thirst. You said something like, “The state you’re in before you get hydrated,” right?  

Akiyama: The nuance of thirst—being unfulfilled—is negative in and of itself, but feeling like something is missing or that you desire something is the same as wanting to be alive. Therefore, it also means feeling very positive that you haven’t given up. If you were hopeless to the point of being desiccated, you wouldn’t be able to think you were thirsty. The title of the album and songs have such double meanings, and once we considered how we wanted the artwork to reflect that, we felt it’d be nice to have a lot of elements on the surface. As we all shared different ideas, I found her painting, which we later used for the cover. I thought it was the one.  

YOKKE: At first, we thought about asking Shirai-san to paint something new, but once we adjusted the painting for the cover, we felt like there was no other option but to use it. The painting ties into the content of the album very well. It’s colorful and chaotic but has a pattern that looks like a human’s face. It has a human touch and a slight sadness. I also thought the way it’s a bit faded embodies thirst. Also, the painting is neither bright nor dark, which matches Thirst.   

Hoping Tokyo will allow unnecessary things  

—Lastly, how do you two want to change music culture through your work?  

Akiyama: We make what you would call indie rock music, and I like music like that as a listener too. But I also don’t hate J-Pop or J-Rock. I don’t want the mainstream scene to disappear. It’s the healthiest for different people and music to coexist. Living in Japan, there aren’t a lot of opportunities to encounter various types of music and art. So much is digestible stuff made with the help of advertising agencies. Even in Tokyo, many people grow up without having the opportunity to be introduced to music and art. That’s even more common in the countryside, I assume. Many people couldn’t encounter important music or art because they didn’t have a neighborhood record store or music venue. It’s vital for all regions to have cultural places and communities. It’s common for people who would’ve loved King Krule had they been introduced to indie rock never to realize their potential for the rest of their lives. 

—True. I often listen to BBC Radio at home, and they would play 80s post-punk studio live sessions that no one would know like it’s no big deal. It makes me go, “If you consume such things like air, then you’ll develop an appreciation for music; no wonder there’s always good music coming out of England.”  

Akiyama: Crack Cloud from Canada, who played here the other day, is popular among a particular sector of people in Japan, but I believe more people would feel moved by their music if they had the chance to encounter them since their music is of amazing quality. If possible, I want to show their music to 100 million people (laughs). I want to emphasize my music career and also consider creating a space where people can make music and art. Western music is incredible not only because of talented individual bands but because of the system and spirit that continues to produce such music. There’s so much to learn from. There are many communities in Asia with similar energy right now, so it’d be fun to make something with them.  

YOKKE: You’ve always said that. This is a personal matter, but I’m contemplating whether I could live the rest of my life making music as an indie artist. I turned 40 last year, and my daughter was born the year before. It’s painfully clear just how hard it is working, raising a child, and making music. Ryota-kun (interviewer), you probably see this too: almost no one we know who made music ten years ago is around anymore. It is what it is, but I believe a big reason comes from existing systems and environments. Creative work gets lost because of that, and I’m sure many people feel less motivated and don’t feel the need to make things even if they come up with an idea. I always think about what we could do to prevent that. 

Akiyama: Young people’s values might change depending on whether they have older role models. 

YOKKE: When it comes to people in their 50s, some people make music successfully, but there aren’t a lot who continue making music as an independent band. People quit making music because they can’t make money or because people are against what they do. In time, they feel like what they’re doing is a waste. But it’s not a waste if making music motivates you to do your day job or enriches your personal life. That makes me think, “I wish they could continue making music somehow.” Not bothering others with what you do is a prerequisite, though. This applies not only to music, but I wish you could choose a path other than monetization once you start doing something; I wish society could allow people to let loose and express themselves. Saying all this changes nothing, so I’m currently planning and examining ways to support other musicians and bands in my own way, aside from my band and label.  

—In Japan, there’s the notion that music isn’t something you make yourself, that it’s something you receive passively. But being in a band, making music, listening, singing, and dancing are all autonomous endeavors.  

Akiyama: There are both good and bad sides to different countries, but what was great about places like London and LA was how amateur music blended into the city. People there are open-minded. For instance, I would go to a pub for a drink and see a band or show that was put together there. It’s so relaxed and great. Some bands perform for fun, while others are filled with ambition. If the band’s good, they might get lucky and become successful. Even if that’s not the case, your life would feel richer if friends and strangers could dance to your songs for one night. I admire how they have everyday environments with dreams and something like romance amid all the randomness and casualness.  

That’s hard to establish in Japan—especially in Tokyo. Property is expensive, and the population is big, so I feel like Tokyo is a city with no room to waste. The city is designed in a consumerist way, so the city’s attitude of “Please go home once you’re done with your errands” comes across so strongly. When you look at Shibuya, you’ll see that there are fewer and fewer spaces for homeless people. Tokyo’s attitude is: go home if you have no business being here. Also, people in Japan are strict regarding the line between professional and amateur people, considering the pub story I just told you. People laugh at “self-proclaimed musicians.” London and LA have awful things about them, but it was nice that both cities had many unnecessary things despite being big cities. There were a lot of adults just hanging out during the day. Also, some people could appreciate amateur musicians’ and artists’ qualities. That makes those societies great, and a good culture is born easier there because of those extra spaces. Tokyo is tough, but it’s also an important city for me, so I always wonder how we can do what we want here.

■US TOUR in March 
3/21 Tue The Coast in Fort Collins 
3/22 Wed The DLC in Salt Lake City 
3/24 Fri Treefort Fest 2023 in Boise 
3/25 Sat Vera in Seattle 
3/27 Mon Polaris Hall in Portland 
3/29 Wed Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco 
3/30 Thu Wayfarer in Costa Mesa 
3/31 Fri Lodge Room in LA
https://dayglotheband.com/

■DYGL 4th Album『Thirst』
Price：¥2,750
1.Your Life
2.Under My Skin
3.I Wish I Could Feel 
4.Road
5.Sandalwood
6.Loaded Gun
7.Salvation
8.Dazzling
9.Euphoria
10.The Philosophy of the Earth
11.Phosphorescent / Never Wait
https://dygl.lnk.to/ThirstID

Translation Lena Grace Suda
Photography Hironori Sakunaga

The post A Conversation Between Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) and Artist Yosuke Tsuchida—Part 2: Music Culture and Japanese Society   appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

DYGL
DYGL is a four-piece, guitar-based rock band comprised of Nobuki Akiyama (guitar/vocals), Yotaro Kachi (bass), Yosuke Shimonaka (guitar), and Kohei Kamoto (drums/guitar). They formed the band in 2012 as part of an after-school club in university and have stayed in countries like US and England for long periods. All of their songs are in English. Their first album, Say Goodbye to Memory Den (2017), was produced by Albert Hammond Jr. (The Strokes) and garnered attention from many media outlets in and out of the country as an exciting indie rock band. They released their second album, Songs of Innocence & Experience, in 2019. They had a successful six-month album tour spanning 53 cities worldwide; they had sold-out shows not only in Japan but also in Beijing, Shanghai, and New York. In 2021, DYGL released their third album, A DAZE IN A HAZE, and Thirst, their fourth album, in 2022.Kicking off with their show on January 20th, 2023, in Tokyo, the band is going on a 12-show Japan tour. Further, they’re going on their US tour in March.  
https://dayglotheband.com
Twitter：@dayglotheband
Instagram：@dayglotheband
YouTube：@DYGL

YOSUKE TSUCHIDA （YOKKE）
Born in Kyoto. Yosuke Tsuchida, AKA YOKKE, mainly designs and directs album covers, such as those by DYGL, NOT WONK, and mitsume. He also works in many fields, such as graphic design for brands and logo and website designs. He has made music as part of Faron Square and White Wear and is also one of the people who ran the indie label Cuz Me Pain, which started in the early 2010s. After making music with Jesse Ruins, which released music from the American indie label, Captured Tracks, YOKKE formed the rock band WOOMAN and released A NAME (2019) through Kilikilivilla. As such, he is still active in music.
http://yosuketsuchida.com
Twitter：@yyokke_
Twitter：@vvomanmusic
Instagram：@yyokke_

DYGL released their fourth album, Thirst, in December 2022. The album, which the band produced entirely on their own for the first time, still retains the elements that make DYGL appealing, such as their anthemic melodies and the fact that they’re a solid four-piece ensemble. Simultaneously, their sound is more diverse than ever, as shown in their vocalizations using autotune and compositions based on emo and post-hardcore music. Amid DYGL’s ever-growing evolution, they’ve firmly cemented their present juncture with Thirst.  

Yosuke Tsuchida, AKA YOKKE, who understood the band from long ago and has designed the band’s artwork countless times, designed the artwork for Thirst. As a designer, he’s been involved in many albums, like those by NOT WONK, mitsume, and Aimyon. He’s also known as a musician and was a part of Faron Square and Jesse Ruins in the early 2010s. Along with Cuz Me Pain, a label of which he was one of the masterminds, he garnered worldwide acclaim within the indie scene at the height of chillwave. Currently, YOKKE is the frontman of WOOMAN and runs the label Herheads. He’s breathing new life into the indie scene as he enthusiastically engages with young bands.  

In two parts, we present a two-hour conversation between the frontman of DYGL, Nobuki Akiyama, and YOKKE. In the first half, the two look back on how they first met, the differences between their respective generations, and the changes they underwent in making Thirst.  

2012: the year Akiyama and YOKKE met 

—I heard you started asking YOKKE-san to design your band’s artwork in 2017 when you made a split cassette tape with Only Real for your live show with him. Did you two know each other before that point?  

YOKKE: We met each other before then, which was around 2012. I think Akiyama-kun was around 19. Su-san from Rhyming Slang and art director Masatoo Hirano-san ran an event called Rewind Tapes at Edge End in Shibuya at the time. I used to semi-regularly DJ at their event. Su-san introduced me to Akiyama-kun, saying, “He’s in a band.”  

Nobuki Akiyama: We used to make music as Ykiki Beat, which we formed as part of an after-school club at Meiji Gakuin University. We didn’t have a lot of friends to chat about indie rock with, which we love, and in high school, even if the bands we were respectively in got booked by a music venue, they would take a fee of 20,000 to 30,000 yen. We talked about how each of our bands split up with nothing left and that doing the same would be boring. When we discussed what we should do, (Yotaro) Kachi-kun was like, “There’s someone who makes interesting music in Japan,” and showed me music by Faron Square, which YOKKE-san was in. 

YOKKE: Thank you (laughs).  

Akiyama: Around the same time, I listened to a mix that Yume-san, a DJ, posted on SoundCloud and thought, “I didn’t know there were people in Japan who like music like this.” I sent them a message on Twitter because I felt I could learn something by getting in touch with people like them. Then, Yume-san decided to come to our show. They brought Su-san and Yuta Sekiyama-san (who later directed a music video for Ykiki Beat). Yume-san complimented my band and asked if I wanted to attend one of their parties. So, I went to Echo, which used to be in Shibuya, and got introduced to YOKKE-san there. As we started talking, I realized he was from Faron Square. I was like, “Wow, they know each other!” It was surprising. I also met other people that day, which gradually led to bigger things. And here we are today.  

YOKKE: He told me he was in a band called Ykiki Beat, so I listened to their music on SoundCloud afterward. It was a demo with a recorded-at-home and rough-around-the-edges touch, but it still sounded complete at that point. I was impressed. I still remember watching Akiyama-kun’s acoustic show at Rewind Tapes after that, and I felt like a young person from a new generation had arrived. My first impression was, “He can sing and is good at speaking English; this is a talented person.”  

—Have you ever seen Faron Square’s show, Akiyama-san? 

YOKKE: No. We stopped playing together as Faron Square right around the time we met. I joined Jesse Ruins and The Beauty after that. 

Akiyama: I didn’t have the chance to see The Beauty live, but I went to Jesse Ruins’ shows several times. We started hanging out with each other once we became acquainted. It was fun talking to older people who played in cool bands, like Sakuma-san from Jesse Ruins and YOKKE-san. 

YOKKE: We were like, “Wow, this younger guy is one to watch.” Sakuma and I talked about how we couldn’t leave Cuz Me Pain sitting around and that we had to do better (laughs). A label/collective called CONDOMINIMUM came out around 2014 to 2015, and it had artists like DYGL, Batman Winks, Cairophenomenons, and Yüksen Buyers House. 

Working with the international stage in mind    

—YOKKE-san, did you see any generational differences between the artists from Cuz Me Pain and CONDOMINIMUM? 

YOKKE: We were focused on releasing music abroad; to put it simply, we were truly like Japanese comedians who only strived to win competitions and nothing else (laughs). At the time, it felt like other people wouldn’t have recognized us if we didn’t take that position. People we knew also thought they had to do something a bit out there. But it looked like the CONDOMINIMUM kids genuinely enjoyed making music and were trying to do something fun together. 

Akiyama: We also wanted to [work] internationally, but I had the impression that Cuz Me Pain had an air that was very different from artists I knew from the Japanese music scene. Cuz Me Pain artists leaned towards DIY recordings and electronic music, so I feel like that’s where the differences start.  

YOKKE: One major factor is that we initially used to buy loads of records to DJ. We were DJs first and formed bands to make music as an extension of that. It never felt like we were only making music as bands. 

Akiyama: Cuz Me Pain had that coolness, which is why I also thought it would be hard for them to be recognized in the country.  

—It was like Cuz Me Pain was on the extreme end of indie music, and it was a bit hard to approach you all. 

YOKKE: We were edgy. But everyone was like that back then. We weren’t on bad terms with musicians our age, but people were under the impression that we didn’t like each other (laughs). I mean, we always had an underground feel to us, though.  

Akiyama: Now, that was cool. I was impressed by how they had that approach despite being based in Japan. I feel this massive energy from edgy young people in places like Taipei and Thailand. I also sensed that edgy vibe that crosses national borders from Cuz Me Pain. But our generation is simpler, and most artists are more approachable and easier to listen to. We sing earnestly and whatnot. But unless we sharpen our musical expression, it’d be hard for our music to reach audiences abroad. I still feel that way. Cuz Me Pain checked off that box from the start, and it also seemed like there was a communal spirit within the team, even though the artists were kind of solo. It was a mysterious community that I thought was cool. 

—I do think a certain kind of extremeness makes it easier for listeners from abroad to take notice. 

YOKKE: Rather than thinking about how we could present ourselves to audiences abroad, we felt we had to make music that would surprise artists we listened to daily. We believed we shouldn’t admire them. Cuz Me Pain artists all shared that mentality.  

Akiyama: I strongly agree with that. Not to compare this to the Japan versus Germany game at the World Cup that happened recently, but if you make music intending to defeat the opponent, you will get better results since there’s a level playing field. In Japan, the categories of “Japanese music” and “foreign music” are still strongly ingrained, and some people can’t fully express their creativity because of that. Surprisingly, across the ocean, people don’t care about that; if they listen to our music, they tell us so. Since I was a teenager, I’ve wanted to eliminate that barrier—the tendency to put music and bands from abroad in a “foreign” box—as much as possible. I want to make music and view all music equally.  

YOKKE: You studied English seriously in middle school to make music on par with bands from other countries, right? 

Akiyama: Right. When I was into bands like The View and Arctic Monkeys, I was like, “If these guys are making music this cool at this age, I want to too.” Rather than being good or bad at English to make music of that caliber, what was important was being able to write extraordinary lyrics. I needed to sing in English naturally. I decided I would make music for the rest of my life no matter what, so I had to learn to think about what I was expressing, not just the English language itself, as fast as possible. Everything in my life was about English because I had to reach that level and quickly stand at the start line.  

YOKKE: It’s amazing how you set Arctic Monkeys as your goal and tried to surpass them. We strived to be like artists who made lofi music that we felt we could beat (laughs). I thought, “There’s no way we could be like Arctic Monkeys. We can’t become a band that could make a debut album as perfect as theirs.” I think that was the big difference [between Akiyama and me]. 

The artwork of Thirst  

—Let’s start getting into the topic of Thirst. Why did you ask YOKKE-san to design the cover art for the first time since your first album? 

Akiyama: We recorded our first and second albums abroad, but it was inevitable for us to record our previous album in Japan because of Covid and all. That affected the band in a good way, so we decided to do the same for this album. We had a tough time because our band was a mess right before and after our second album. Covid itself isn’t good at all, but it was nice how we could settle down for a moment and focus on our lives and making music. A weight was lifted off my shoulders. The band’s air became very light, and we decided to produce this album ourselves because we felt confident, which we cultivated from our experiences. Come to think of it, the more we make our albums, the more locally we record them (laughs). 

YOKKE: True. 

Akiyama: We made this album as if we were chatting in a clubroom at university when we formed a band together. When we considered the music we made in that setting, we felt it would be hard to ask someone in a different country, who we’d never met, to mix and master the album. We were like, “Who should we ask?” Then I remembered seeing on Instagram that Stephanie (Loza), a friend I made in LA, became an audio engineer. I listened to tracks she engineered, which were good, so I asked her to do it. In terms of design, we were like, “Don’t we want someone who understands us well?” And we landed on YOKKE-san. Tamao Shirai, who made the oil painting on the cover, is actually a former classmate from elementary school. It was great working with a team who knew everybody’s faces and personalities. It was such a blessing to bring ideas to life with people I could trust.  

YOKKE: Before their latest album, I worked with DYGL for the first time in a long time for their single, “Waves.” They came to my workplace, and we worked together. It was so much fun. That experience reaffirmed that there are infinite possibilities, no right or wrong in art, and meeting others to communicate to make something is very important.  

—What did you think after listening to Thirst upon working on the artwork, YOKKE-san? 

YOKKE: I got sent a demo with around 20 songs, which included songs that didn’t make it on the album, and I thought it sounded cooler compared to the rest of their discography. I don’t mean that negatively. It had a cool tone; it was just the right temperature to listen to. One of the appeals of DYGL’s music is their passion, so I sensed a change in them. 

Akiyama: We didn’t mean to go for that coolness. How can I say this—we tried to figure out how we could access the listener’s feelings rather than hyping them up in an obvious way. In hindsight, until now, my lack of confidence in myself connected to the overt passion [in our music]. But through making the album, I got a glimpse of making music I’d want to listen to more by taking a different approach from before. I felt at ease because I wasn’t trying too hard.  

YOKKE: Even if the album seems mature on the surface, I’m sure it’s packed with this internal sense of passion. 

—Did your ability to change your approach have anything to do with how the morale within the band improved? 

Akiyama: I think so. I mean, for sure (laughs). Our ability to trust each other’s ideas and processes is the accumulation of our experiences and communication. In the past, I would get insecure and go ahead and make songs by myself. I can see my bandmates’ good qualities much more than before. Now, instead of rushing things, we can take our time to talk about what we want to do as a band. Of course, I don’t think we’re perfect right now, but we communicate more than before and make music in a relaxed way. It surprises me to think about how we were like a while ago; I can’t believe we could change this much. Around our second album, we were at a loss and depressed. We were like, “What should we do?” (laughs). Today, we’re in a good place and can try what we want among many different options.  

—Whenever you make an album, do you exchange ideas like, “Let’s make this album like so-and-so”? 

Akiyama: We sometimes talk about it, but we try to avoid getting into specifics and end up limiting the possibilities. DYGL is embodied by each of us bringing what we like and putting that together organically. I couldn’t think that way just a little while ago and would often instruct and commission my bandmates. But if I wanted to execute my vision flawlessly, I could make music on my own. A significant factor was starting a side project called Deadbeat Painters with Cony Plankton of TAWINGS. It was so good for my mental health to learn to be okay with taking songs that didn’t match DYGL elsewhere. I feel so at ease now. As DYGL, we sound best when we’re together and make music organically. I can take less of a lead and lean on everyone else’s strengths. 

■US TOUR in March 
3/21 Tue The Coast in Fort Collins 
3/22 Wed The DLC in Salt Lake City 
3/24 Fri Treefort Fest 2023 in Boise 
3/25 Sat Vera in Seattle 
3/27 Mon Polaris Hall in Portland 
3/29 Wed Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco 
3/30 Thu Wayfarer in Costa Mesa 
3/31 Fri Lodge Room in LA
https://dayglotheband.com/

■DYGL 『Thirst』
Price：¥2,750
1.Your Life
2.Under My Skin
3.I Wish I Could Feel 
4.Road
5.Sandalwood
6.Loaded Gun
7.Salvation
8.Dazzling
9.Euphoria
10.The Philosophy of the Earth
11.Phosphorescent / Never Wait
https://dygl.lnk.to/ThirstID

Translation Lena Grace Suda
Photography Hironori Sakunaga

The post A Conversation Between Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) and Artist Yosuke Tsuchida—Part 1: Making Music Organically and Sounding the Best　 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

The event was held at YCAM over two days from June 4 to 5 this year, after a year and a half of joint research and development by Ishiwaka, YCAM, and AI researchers. During the performance, Ishiwaka did an improvisational session with an AI (artificial intelligence) agent that had been trained on a data set of Ishiwaka’s own musical performance, and he was joined by saxophonist Kei Matsumaru on the second day.

We conducted an interview with Ishiwaka and Matsumaru after the second performance. In the first part, we asked them about the reason for having Matsumaru as a collaborator, their creation process complemented by a trial live performance, the sense of time and some kind of human will specific to AI that they felt during the performance, and their respective attitudes toward solo improvisation.

The second part highlights how their perception of improvisation changed through the creation process, their ideas on how they utilize the system created this time, and their insights into the future of music education.

The way of thinking about improvisation changed through the performance

–Shun, in a public talk after the performance on the first day, you said, “My way of thinking about improvisation has changed (through this creation).” What exactly was that change?

Shun Ishiwaka (Ishiwaka): In the process of creating co-performers using AI and other technologies, I verbalized my improvisation method to have the AI learn it. At that time, I was confronted with the question, “Can we really call what we have verbalized an improvised performance?” At that time, I was like, “If players other than myself can play, isn’t it actually composition? No, even so, it is still improvisation. No, no, it may not be improvisation.”

As for improvisation, sometimes I play music with an idea of the kind of sound I want to make, and other times I play without any particular idea in mind. Even when I try to create the sound I am aiming for, coincidence sometimes works in the right direction, and unexpected and interesting developments may occur. I realized once again that I am doing improvisation in these kind of many different layers, and this production was an opportunity for me to think about such things in detail.

When I improvise, I look forward to seeing and hearing things I have never seen or heard before. But I used to only intuitively perceive what that is, what was happening during improvisation, and how it could be interesting. It was just sort of fantasy. In the process of teaching such things to my mechanical collaborators, I began to break down my improvisations into their component parts and verbalize them, which gave birth to many new questions. But in any case, it increased my level of understanding.

Kei Matsumaru (Matsumaru): By participating in this project, I feel I’ve been faced with very important questions about what improvisation is and what moments in music make people feel that what they hear is “good.” Kazuhisa Uchihashi once made a strong statement in conversation about the difference between “good improvisation” and “bad improvisation,” which I could really empathize with. In other words, I think there is a vague yet somewhat common understanding about what kind of improvisation is not good.

　However, it is difficult (and dangerous) to verbalize what is good and what is bad. At the same time, the beauty of improvisation as a method may lie in this very difficulty. Music with clearly defined style is rather easy to verbalize. It is relatively unchallenging to extract the characteristics and teach them to others in the academic world and to perform in a similar style. With improvised music, it is quite difficult to do so. Nevertheless, there are definite differences between “good improvisations” and “bad improvisations,” which I am always trying to figure out.

Ishiwaka: Mr. Uchihashi said, “Most of the improvisation that exists in the world is fake.” And I can sympathize with that. But it is difficult to teach “good improvisation” to someone else. For example, this time, I had a hard time thinking, “When I am playing like this, what kind of performance by which agent would be appropriate?” I myself don’t necessarily play the quiet sounds just because my collaborator starts playing quietly, but I sometimes do. So I wondered how to teach such things to the machine, which may sound like a Zen riddle (laughs), but I wanted to create a state where you never know what will happen once the performance starts.

Difference between jazz improvisation and free improvisation

–For example, jazz music also has an improvisation aspect, doesn’t it? Do you feel that there is a difference between free improvisation like this and jazz improvisation in terms of “how you can teach others how to improvise” even though both of them are forms of improvised performance?

Ishiwaka：It is based on a vast amount of music accumulated by our great predecessors. And there is a lot of data that says, “This is how you should play a solo on this piece of music.” I think that by studying and practicing such data, we will be able to improvise jazz music.

Matsumaru: I think jazz is a music that focuses on history, even if the performers themselves are not conscious of it. It uses historically established musical vocabulary, and the types and tendencies of chord progressions are to some extent fixed. Improvisation in jazz is part of that history. But in the case of free improvisation, I am not trying to dedicate it to any kind of history, nor am I trying to focus on history. Of course, there may be musicians who want to play music in the context of free improvisation as a genre, but that is not the case with me.

Ishiwaka：Since I am very much at the point where I like to create music with computers, I had the sense that I was designing something that could be freely improvised and sessioned. For example, neither I nor the rhythm AI play eighth-note beats in a straightforward manner. Technically, I do make beats, but using a fixed rhythm pattern and fitting it into the computer to make music is not what I want to do.

Matsumaru：If it had been a drummer other than Shun, there might have been moments where a rock-style rhythm suddenly pops up, for example.

Ishiwaka: Even though I call it free improvisation, I sort of had the form of music I wanted to play in mind while I was working on the project. What was at the core was to simply develop the idea of “wanting to perform with myself.”

The idea of “wanting to perform with myself”

–Kei, do you also feel that you would like to perform with yourself?

Matsumaru：Not necessarily.  Most likely because of the nature of the saxophone as an instrument. I simply don’t like the musical texture of the sound of just two saxophones playing simultaneously. In jazz as well, but especially in improvised sessions, two saxophones are a bit too much.

Ishiwaka：In terms of drums, there can often be free sessions with twin drums.

Matsumaru：Yes, with drums, it’s listenable. There’s more blank space, no matter how dense the rhythm ist. On the other hand, saxophones have a clearly audible pitch range, and every note is very assertive, so when there are two saxophonists playing at the same time……. That’s probably one of the reasons why I wouldn’t really think of performing with myself.

–Shun, you mentioned that one of the reasons why you find it interesting to perform with yourself is that you can look at yourself objectively. For example, recording your own performance and listening back to it also leads to “objectivity,” but what do you feel is the difference between that and having an AI learn from you?

Ishiwaka：It’s all about real-time performance. That is what I focused on when creating the agent. At the beginning of the creation process, after performing once at the Black Swan (blkswn welfare center), we performed again for the same period of time solely based on memory, and overlapped the recordings and videos of those two performances. Then I felt there is some kind of commonality between these two and sort of connection to myself. However, I wanted to do this interactively, not with my past performance, but with something that was going on at the same time. In other words, I wanted to create ears that would listen to my performance. And I wanted it to not only listen to me, but also to learn my performance and respond to it in real time.

“I want other musicians to use the system.”

–Shun, you mentioned that you would like other musicians to use the AI system you created this time.

Ishiwaka: I used six different agents this time, including a meta-agent, and I am very interested in how the system would sound if other musicians have each agent learn their own improvisations. This is how it turned out this time, but I think other musicians will have different sounds they want to express on the computer and different ways of having the computer learn their performance. In that case, I wonder what kind of sounds the rhythm AI or melody AI would produce. Besides, someone would think, “I want to make this kind of instrument to produce this kind of sound,” and new ideas for new agents might emerge.

–Matsumaru, you said earlier that you don’t feel like performing with yourself. But do you have any desire to utilize this system?

Matsumaru: Definitely. For example, I think it would be very interesting if what I play comes out in different sounds from different instruments. I am not really interested in having saxophones perform with me, but as I did in the foyer at the end of this performance, it was very stimulating to have automated cymbals that used my performance data and to perform with it. When data acquired from one instrument is output from another kind of instrument, I think t ideas may be produced that are not or cannot normally be done with that instrument used as the output. I think there are new possibilities there.

For example, with the saxophone, there must be some rhythmic elements that are specific to the performance of this instrument, and if data is extracted and output from the drums, the performance would be different from that of normal drums. Of course, in reality, there would be a more complex conversion process, but either way, I feel that it would be an opportunity to discover new possibilities for the instrument.

“I came to see again what I cannot do.”

–Shun, don’t you think that the great achievement of this project was the fact that it became not only an opportunity for you to “perform with yourself” on the stage, but also an opportunity for you to “look at yourself” even during the production process?

Ishiwaka: Yeah, absolutely. This was what we talked about at the after-party, but the first thing I thought after the performance was “I want to practice more and broaden the range of my techniques& ideas!!!”(laugh). There were many moments when I felt, “I want to play this kind of sound in response to the development of the session but my technique is not enough.”

　Also, listening to the percussive sounds produced by the rhythm AI for a long time, I wondered how a human could play them in a cooler manner. More specifically, the feedback sound of the cymbals, which gradually changed its tone as if one tweaked synth filter without changing pitch, made me wonder what kind of playing technique I could use to express this kind of sound change. I am sure that if other musicians do what I did with AI, they will also discover something new, and come up with new ideas and new views that they have never seen before.

　I also found the speed of technological development to be much faster than I had imagined. Just comparing now with two years ago when I started working on this project, it has already changed significantly. So I think that by continuing this kind of technological collaboration in some form or another, we will be able to make new attempts in the years to come. However, even if we do not necessarily stick to technology, I think it is interesting to keep searching for something new and different to acquire, rather than aiming at some destination and ending up with some results, no matter what kind of music it is. This time was just focused on AI and other kind of technologies and improvisation.

Thinking about the future of music education through improvisation

Matsumaru：Thinking deeply about improvisation like we did today is the same as thinking deeply about music itself, rather than about a specific genre or context. I felt that this performance in particular could develop into something significant educationally. In the field of music education, most of what is done is routine-based, and at least in my experience, it rarely touches the core aspects of music.

　Even children who were originally curious about many things develop a preconception that says “this is how music is supposed to be” after taking such classes, and as a result, they will come to have music that they dislike without reason, music that they find difficult, and music that they find easy to listen to. However, if we can develop this kind of performance into an educational tool, we may be able to break free from such ways of thinking.

Ishiwaka：Yeah, you are right. I think this work has many layers. From how we perceive music, to how we improvise, to how we choose sounds, there are parts that are usually done without explanation, but during the creation process, we have to explain each of these multiple layers in detail. If such way of explanations could be introduced into music education, I think it would change the way young children interact with music. Those things should be considered first before, for example, the stage where children become able to play the Do Re Mi on the recorder, or to sing in a chorus together.

Matsumaru: Yeah, I agree with that. It would be better to teach things like, “This is a historically important piece of music,” at a later stage after what you just mentioned. I think one of the wonderful things about music is that it can stimulate and expand the imagination. Not only for our imagination associated with music, but it also leads to developing an imagination for many other things.  A person receiving a musical education that stifles the imagination, may grow up to be a person with that kind of mindset about other aspects in life.

　In a sense, for me, getting into improvisation was a way to break free from the stereotypes that I had developed as a child. In my case, I grew up in a closed community in Papua New Guinea, in a very biased environment. But there was a time when I tried to move my fixed thinking in a different direction, and I started to work on improvisation alongside that.

Ishiwaka: If showing such performances can be a chance to think about the future of music education, I think it is important to create opportunities to present them by myself. I was introduced to Takeo Moriyama’s free jazz when I was a child, and I studied orchestral and contemporary music later, but even now, what underlies in myself is free music. Since I have lived my life in this way, I feel anew that I must continue to present my own music and that I have a mission to create opportunities for that purpose.

Shun Ishiwaka
Born in 1992 in Hokkaido, Japan, Shun Ishiwaka graduated from Tokyo University of the Arts after studying percussion at the high school attached to the Faculty of Music of Tokyo University of the Arts. Upon graduation, he received the Acanthus Music Award and the Doseikai Award. In addition to leading Answer to Remember, SMTK, and Songbook Trio, he has participated in numerous live performances and productions by Kururi, CRCK/LCKS, Kid Fresino, Kimijima Ozora, Millennium Parade, and many others. As a recent practice, he presented Sound Mine, a new concert piece by Miyu Hosoi + Shun Ishiwaka + YCAM at the Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media[YCAM]under the theme of evoking memories through sound and echoes.
Official website: http://www.shun-ishiwaka.com
Twitter: @shunishiwaka

Kei Matsumaru
Though born in Japan in 1995, Kei Matsumaru was raised in a small village in the highlands of Papua New Guinea where he calls home. From there, he moved to Boston to study music in 2014, after which he relocated to Japan in late 2018.
Kei is currently based in Tokyo and has been active mostly in the jazz and improvised music scene, but has increasingly been collaborating with artists from other musical genres and creative disciplines, such as contemporary dance, visual arts, and various media arts. Kei is a member of SMTK, a rock/free jazz/instrumental band, as well as mºfe (em-doh-feh), an electro-acoustic trio. In 2020, he released Nothing Unspoken Under the Sun as his quartet’s first album.
He also periodically presents “dokusō”, a series of live 90-minute solo saxophone performances through which he explores the relationship between time, space, body, and instrument and how the performance affects cognition and perception of these elements in both the audience and himself.
Recent: Eiko Ishibashi, Tatsuhisa Yamamoto, Jim O’Rourke, Otomo Yoshihide, Kazuhisa Uchihashi, Dos Monos, etc.
His 2nd album The Moon, Its Recollections Abstracted is set to release on October 19, 2022.
Official website: https://www.keimatsumaru.com
Instagram: @kmatsumaru
Twitter: @keimatsumaru

Photography Yasuhiro Tani / Courtesy of Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media [YCAM]
Translation Shinichiro Sato (TOKION)

Photography Yasuhiro Tani / Courtesy of Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media [YCAM]

The post Technological Co-Creation of AI and Improvisation — Shun Ishiwaka × Kei Matsumaru Special Talk, Part 2 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

The two-day event, held June 4-5, centered on Ishiwaka’s idea of performing with himself, in which he and AI (artificial intelligence) agents (a device that records Ishiwaka’s performance data, extracts performance characteristics, and performs autonomously/semi-autonomously based on that data), improvised sessions. On the second day, saxophonist Kei Matsumaru participated in an interactive improvisation session with a variety of sound-installation-like automatic instruments that were placed at the venue just as on the first day.

This event was realized after about a year and a half of his joint research and development with YCAM and AI researchers. What possibilities did “improvisation with AI” open up? We asked Ishiwaka and Matsumaru about their thoughts immediately after the performance.

Reasons for inviting Kei Matsumaru as a co-performer

–In this performance, the main theme was Ishiwaka-san’s collaboration with himself. So Ishiwaka-san, why did you bring in Matsumaru as a co-performer?

Shun Ishiwaka (Ishiwaka): My initial idea was to show the “before and after of Shun Ishiwaka” through the two days of performance. In other words, I was going to focus on how I change between the first and second days, but the focus of the second half, which was simply going to feature “me after I changed,” shifted to “me performing with co-performer, after I changed.” Well, I had been working with YCAM for more than a year on this project, and I had experienced playing with the computer for a long time, so I wondered what would happen if another artist joined and played with me, and what new discoveries might be made there.

When I thought about who might be interested in this kind of work using leading-edge technology, the first name that came to mind was Kei Matsumaru. We had performed together countless times, and since I have participated in his quartet and performed with him in SMTK, I myself feel a great deal of sympathy for the music he is trying to make and the methods he uses to realize that music. I wanted to have someone with a similar view of music to me be involved, and I also thought that if Kei had this kind of opportunity, he would think about many different things, which might lead to even greater development of the performance.

Kei, I wanted to ask you this, but do you think my way of performing has changed through this creation?

Kei Matsumaru (hereafter, Matsumaru): Well, I can’t really say as of yet.  . Maybe I haven’t noticed much of a change because  we’ve been playing together for a long time..

Ishiwaka: I personally think I have changed a lot.

Matsumaru： When we look back after a while, I might be able to start seeing  this creation  as a turning point in hindsight,  but I can’t really give a clear answer now. Not because I think there haven’t been any changes,  but it may be similar to the way you don’t really notice when someone you live with loses or gains a little weight , for example.

“The experience of the time passage is different from usual.”

— Did you feel any difference between your usual duo session and this performance with the agents including AI?

Ishiwaka: We talked with Kei during the rehearsal about how the experience of the passage of time was different from usual due to the fact that the co-performer of the session is not a human being. We are creating something with the AI, and when the meta-agent gives commands and the five different agents switch between them, the work we are creating may suddenly end in the middle of the process, or we may be made to feel that we should continue. I felt what was going on during the performance was totally different from those with ordinary human performers.

Matsumaru：I have done many duo improvisation performances not only with Shun, but also with many other people, and I can say with confidence that this performance felt considerably closer to improvising in a trio setting rather than duo. When there are only two performers in a session, decisions are made only on one end or the other, in turn or at the same time. . But when a third party is added, it not only adds one more option for decision making, it exponentially broadens the scope of the relationships that can happen simultaneously. After three players, you don’t really feel the difference, which is why I think improvisations can be broadly categorized into ”solo”, “duo”, or “trio or more”, with each becoming a different kind of music. This time it was closer to the feeling of a trio than a duo.

Ishiwaka：That’s true.

Matsumaru: Playing as a trio means that three patterns of duos may be created within the trio. Therefore, a duo and a trio have very different feelings, almost in a way that a two-dimensional thing becomes three-dimensional. Moments of engaging with another player with intention and situations where multiple textures exist in parallel suddenly become a lot more complex. . In this performance, there were only two human players, myself and Shun, but the meta-agent was also present as another player, and there was a sense that the three of us were creating something together.

After a trial show, the performance became more “free”.

–One month prior to the performance, a trial show was held at Shibuya Koen-dori Classics with Matsumaru. How did you brush up the performance after that?

Ishiwaka：The live performance at Classics was just an experiment, more like a demonstration. We focused on playing with each agent in the first set, and in the second set, person behind the stage switched the agents manually during the performance to create a musical flow. Based on the results, we created a meta-agent, a higher-level entity, with which the computer can switch between the agents.

Matsumaru: Also, at the time of Classics, my performance data was not reflected in the agent, so it didn’t feel like a trio improvisation as in the actual performance. An interactive duo situation was created between me and Shun, and between Shun and the agent, but between me and the agent, there was no interactive communication. We may have influenced each other indirectly, but we never directly communicated as a trio, which was a definite difference from the actual performance. In the performance at YCAM, what I played on the saxophone was also reflected in the meta-agent.

Ishiwaka：It was great that we were able to play more and more freely in this process toward the final performance. During the one at Classics, there were times when we had to change the way we perform for each scene, and at other times, I felt that we taught too many techniques and the agents were too close to the human side.

Matsumaru: If we had not had the trial performance at Classics, perhaps we wouldn’t have been completely satisfied with the final performance.

Something close to a human will felt in the meta-agent

— During the performance, did you ever sense anything like human will in the meta-agent?

Ishiwaka: Yeah, I did a lot. I think if player has the certain sound image he or she wants to make, we may consequently feel as if the meta-agent has a will. For me, there are times when I want to create a sound with a beat, times when I value coincidence and create an idea randomly, and times when I create a very quiet sound. In order to express these different sounds, each agent is allocated to a specific role, and the meta-agent, who has a bird’s eye view of the whole, creates music as if it were playing with a will. In other words, we gave the agents “ears” as well.

Matsumaru: That kind of human-like will was an element that we didn’t feel at the time of the performance at Classics. I was a little surprised at how different it felt  after introducing the meta-agent in the performance,  because it felt like we were making music together.

–Among the agents, the “Rhythm AI,” which produces percussion sounds, was the closest automatic instrument to Ishiwaka-san’s performance. Did you ever feel “Shun Ishiwaka’s character” in the sound AI produced?

Ishiwaka: Yes, I did. Especially on the first day, I felt a swingin’ feel. When I had the Rhythm AI learn, I set the tempo and the number of bars, and tried various patterns of swing rhythms with an electronic drum called Roland V-Drums. I had it learn as many patterns of my favorite phrases as I could think of. Sometimes when I listen to the agent’s performance while playing, I could recognize the swing rhythms that I had had the agent learn.

Matsumaru: Especially in terms of the rhythm AI, I could feel elements similar to Shun’s improvisation in the density and changes in density of the sounds produced. . Instead of improvising with the same rhythmic density all the time, there was a wide range, just like in Shun’s performance. At times, certain parts of the agent’s rhythm were much less dense than others, and at other times, a very small part of the rhythm had high density. These shades of density repeated in certain cycles may have reflected his characteristics.

The sound from a sampler has little touches of humanity

— Were there any scenes in which you felt that a co-performer was not human?

Matsumaru：I was always conscious of the fact that the agents I was working with were not human. However,  one thing that was unexpected was how the sampler functioned. There was an agent with a sampling machine that played fragments of our past recordings through speakers. We thought  this would easily bring out  human-like qualities because it played  actual recordings, but instead  it gave us the opposite impression. The human quality was rather weak precisely because it merely played back samples. . The way it chose the sounds and played them didn’t feel human at all. .

Ishiwaka：When I first decided to use a sampler, I had the idea of creating a raw sensation or subtle fluctuations in sound and changes in texture that only humans can create. It was interesting that, although that was my original goal, when I actually tried it, it sounded less human-like.

Matsumaru：If the agent had learned from the performance data of a musician who usedg a sampler as their main tool, the choice of sounds played by the agent might have sounded more human-like. In our performance, the sampler just extracted clips  from past recordings with similar sound characteristics to the real-time performance.

–The sampler sounds had a slightly lo-fi texture, so you can tell at first listen that it is a sampler sound, even if it is the sound of the same instrument., right?

Ishiwaka: That’s right. All of the other agents had a mechanism for physically tapping the instruments to produce sound on the spot, but in the case of the sampler, the sound is played back from the speakers, so the sound source can be processed. In order not to confuse the sampler sound with the live sound we were producing in real time, we dared to apply effects to the sampler sound to change its texture.

In search for a view we have never seen before

–This event can be seen as an extension of Ishiwaka’s solo performance. Are there any barriers that you have felt you wanted to break through in your regular solo improvisation performances?

Ishiwaka：The main problem for me is when I get bored with myself. If I feel that what I am looking now is the same as what I saw before during the performance, I may suddenly realize that I am bored with myself. To avoid this, I experiment with various ideas and try to create a situation that feels fresh by keeping my ears sensitive. I always want to go somewhere I have never seen before.

Matsumaru: In my case, I sometimes  imagine there being  something beyond this type of boredom. I am interested in how far I can go with  repeating an idea. When I get really tired of listening to an idea, my perception of that musical idea starts to deform and unravel,  sometimes to the point where  I can’t think about what will happen next. So, for example, I may think about how many times I can repeat the exact same phrase during a solo, and I believe  this kind of patience also plays an important role in improvisation. I’ll sometimes explore this  not only in solo performances, but also in duos, depending on the person. .

Ishiwaka：There was a time when I was challenging myself to keep on playing the same drumming phrase over and over again. If I keep on drumming the same phrase, my ear gradually becomes more sensitive. Then I could sense subtle changes in the accents, and I would explore what I might be able to see if I stretched this or that part. But there is a procedure and a pattern, and I am looking for something I could see by continuing the prescribed movements, so I thought it was improvised but also composed, so I named the performance and did it as a concert piece. Recently, I tend to do the improvisation in a different way. Maybe what we are looking for in improvisation differs depending on the general character, role, and features of the instruments. In the case of drummers, we are basically repeating a fixed pattern all the time in order to generate beats in their everyday performance. In order to escape from such a situation, I think that improvisation for drummer is an attempt to expand the range of expression of the drums in various ways.

Matsumaru：That’s true. In that sense, saxophone players are the opposite.  We’re often  required to play melodies at specific parts, develop solos in specified places, and play ideas that are  fairly non-repetitive. Of course, there are many different saxophonists, but in my case, perhaps it is because of the instrument’s characteristics and given role  that I’m curious about  repeating  ideas when I improvise.

(Continued in Part 2)

Shun Ishiwaka
Born in 1992 in Hokkaido, Japan, Shun Ishiwaka graduated from Tokyo University of the Arts after studying percussion at the high school attached to the Faculty of Music of Tokyo University of the Arts. Upon graduation, he received the Acanthus Music Award and the Doseikai Award. In addition to leading Answer to Remember, SMTK, and Songbook Trio, he has participated in numerous live performances and productions by Kururi, CRCK/LCKS, Kid Fresino, Kimijima Ozora, Millennium Parade, and many others. As a recent practice, he presented Sound Mine, a new concert piece by Miyu Hosoi + Shun Ishiwaka + YCAM at the Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media[YCAM]under the theme of evoking memories through sound and echoes.
Official website: http://www.shun-ishiwaka.com
Twitter: @shunishiwaka

Kei Matsumaru
Though born in Japan in 1995, Kei Matsumaru was raised in a small village in the highlands of Papua New Guinea where he calls home. From there, he moved to Boston to study music in 2014, after which he relocated to Japan in late 2018.
Kei is currently based in Tokyo and has been active mostly in the jazz and improvised music scene, but has increasingly been collaborating with artists from other musical genres and creative disciplines, such as contemporary dance, visual arts, and various media arts. Kei is a member of SMTK, a rock/free jazz/instrumental band, as well as mºfe (em-doh-feh), an electro-acoustic trio. In 2020, he released Nothing Unspoken Under the Sun as his quartet’s first album.
He also periodically presents “dokusō”, a series of live 90-minute solo saxophone performances through which he explores the relationship between time, space, body, and instrument and how the performance affects cognition and perception of these elements in both the audience and himself.
Recent: Eiko Ishibashi, Tatsuhisa Yamamoto, Jim O’Rourke, Otomo Yoshihide, Kazuhisa Uchihashi, Dos Monos, etc.
His 2nd album The Moon, Its Recollections Abstracted is set to release on October 19, 2022.
Official website: https://www.keimatsumaru.com
Instagram: @kmatsumaru
Twitter: @keimatsumaru

Photography Yasuhiro Tani / Courtesy of Yamaguchi Center for Arts and Media [YCAM]
Translation Shinichiro Sato (TOKION)

The post Technological Co-Creation between AI and Improvisation — Shun Ishiwaka × Kei Matsumaru Special Conversation, Part 1 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Shibuya’s music has been dubbed the world’s first pop music using AI and an android, and BORDERLINE is an equal parts conceptual and catchy song only he could’ve made. In the song, Stephanie Poetri, who’s signed to the world-dominating 88rising label, and Alter3, the android used in many of Shibuya’s works, sing the AI-generated lyrics. The music video expresses his concept and features an integral person alongside Shibuya and Alter3, Nozomi Iijima, a world-renowned ballet dancer (K-Ballet Company principal). We asked the two, who worked together for the first time for this project, to discuss the process behind BORDERLINE and their respective fields.

The wavering verge of reality and the boundary between humans and androids

—BORDERLINE is presented as a cultural project aiming to invigorate the Shibuya area. The song and music video are both magnetic. How did BORDERLINE and its concept come about? Also, how did you approach Iijima-san?

Keiichiro Shibuya: I was asked to create a complete piece of work instead of just a song. Shibuya area is involved in this project, and I happily accepted the offer because I was born and raised in Shibuya, and my surname is Shibuya. I felt like no one else was more suited than me (laughs). 

The concept behind BORDERLINE comes from how the cusp of reality is blurry in many situations and the increase of borderline personality disorder diagnoses (laughs). It also comes from the shooting location in front of the ticket gate in Shibuya’s underground station and the boundary between humans and androids, which I’ve been engaging through my work. But the most significant source was seeing an old shirt in my room with the words “BORDERLINE” right when I was thinking about how I had to come up with the project title. This sort of coincidence happens quite often (laughs). 

Using lyrics written by AI based on the theme of borderlines, I had an android and human being sing together to create a song. Then, I decided to shoot the music video in an underground space, as that’s the boundary between above ground and underground in Shibuya city. The collaboration itself was pretty unusual, so I felt like it’d be better to make a music video, something that’s conventional. I contemplated who would be a good person to feature with android Alter3 and me, and I approached Nozomi-chan since I thought she’d be the perfect match.

–What went through your mind when Shibuya-san approached you?

Nozomi Iijima: To be honest, part of me felt anxious. I mainly dance classical ballet, so most of the dances I do are traditional. On the contrary, Shibuya-san takes traditional arts into account and uses cutting-edge technology to create art that’s one step ahead. I wondered if we would work well together. I do contemporary dance at times, but that’s different. But I was interested in and admired his work. So more than feeling anxious, I was like, “I want to do it!” 

Shibuya: I felt Nozomi-chan would be a good match because she does contemporary dance, not just classical ballet. When I lived in Paris, the first job I did was a collaboration between Palais Garnier and Palais de Tokyo, and I became friends with Jérémie Bélingard, a dancer at Palais Garnier. He’s a classical ballet and contemporary dancer and has a proper foundation. I never think about this, but classical or Western music is my foundation, and electronic music and technology like androids coexist there. That’s why I find it easy to work with people who do both classical and contemporary arts. It feels right. 

–Iijima-san, you mentioned that you like William Forsythe in another interview. 

Iijima: Right. When I used to dance at Houston Ballet, I danced in Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude, In the Middle, Somewhat Elevated, and Artifact. Like Shibuya-san,Forsythe is a choreographer who has classical ballet movements as his foundation and creates new movements. I love his works.

I can tell Shibuya-san has a background in the classic arts because of his music. This also applies to his piano pieces, but even his electronic songs don’t feel inorganic; they still touch my heart. It wasn’t as hard to dance to Shibuya-san’s music. I think that’s because his music has a classical element at the core.

Shibuya: You said you found the music easy to dance to when we shot the music video. 

Iijima: I couldn’t help that my body started moving to the music. It felt good to dance. 

Dance and performance arts from the eyes of a musician, Music from the eyes of a dancer 

–Shibuya-san, you’ve created opera pieces as a musician and previously worked with dance and performance. What is the appeal of ballet and performance arts to you? 

Shibuya: Performances tend to serve as a hub for different art forms. There’s Parade, where Eric Satie made the music, Pablo Picasso did the costume and art, and Jean Cocteau wrote the script 100 years ago, for instance. When I made The End, an opera with Hatsune Miku, ten years ago, I approached Marc Jacobs because I thought it’d be interesting to have him design a costume for a two-dimensional character for the first time since he took the fashion world by storm as the designer of Louis Vuitton. The fun part about performance arts is how people can come together to collaborate on one piece of work. Also, you get a spark of musical inspiration by visualizing body movements. 

I also love performances involving one pianist and one dancer, like those by Philip Glass. I want to do something like that one day.

–Iijima-san, what does music mean to you?

Iijima: The power of music is undeniable in classical ballet. In most cases, my body starts moving on its own when the music starts playing. 

Shibuya: People who dance classical ballet all say that. When I was working with Jérémie at Palais Garnier, I asked him to stay still for ten seconds, but he said he couldn’t do it. It was interesting to see just how deeply embedded his physical training or habit was.

Iijima: True. Even if you can dance a choreographed piece, it’s still hard to dance on the spot. Without a doubt, music is essential in our lives.

Improvisation, and working with an android

Iijima: Shibuya-san, have you always been one for improvisation?

Shibuya: The first time I improvised was at a restaurant, where I used to play the piano part-time as a student. I always brought sheet music, but it got in the way whenever I had plans to hang out after my shift since it was heavy (laughs). One day, I played something on the spot without any sheet music, but I didn’t know what I was doing was improvisation. I also had no complaints (laughs). That made me think, “I guess I can do this,” so I started improvising on the piano from that point onwards. I couldn’t answer whenever people asked me what song I was playing. The first time I played on the spot with someone else at a concert was with Yuji Takahashi-san, someone I greatly respect. I had the grit to have been able to do that, if I may say so myself. Today, I improvise with an android instead of humans, but it’s fun.

Iijima: What is the main difference between playing with a person and an android?

Shibuya: If my performance isn’t good, the android will follow suit, making the overall performance low-quality. My performance has to be good, first and foremost. I also can’t play whatever I want to. Sometimes, the android would go rogue and sing something else, so I would have to follow its lead. You need much more cooperation with an android, or else you won’t create something interesting. That way, you can improve, and time will pass by in the blink of an eye.

–Iijima-san, you performed with Alter3 for this project. What was that like?

Iijima: I felt something similar to what Shibuya-san said just now about improvising with an android. When Alter3 and I were dancing, I tried to match my—what’s the word— physical feeling with it. Some moments made me wonder, “Am I sharing the same feeling with Alter3 right now?” I might’ve just imagined that, though. 

Shibuya: No, there were many moments where you and Alter3 were in sync. It was hard to choose which takes to use in the final cut because it was that good.  Iijima: Thank you. Some parts were challenging, but I had such an exciting and fun time.

Traditional elements in art and the state of technology

Iijima: There’s something I want to ask you, Shibuya-san. Why do you use an android in your work? I dance traditional ballet involving only humans, so I feel like what I do is the opposite of what you do. I want to learn about the significance and necessity of using an android.

Shibuya: Humans are always at the center, whether that’s ballet or opera, right? Anthropocentrism is an ideology unique to the West. I feel like human classical singers or performers could compete among themselves, but I’m a composer, so even if I abide by Western formats or structures, I can’t make something that transcends their framework. I can’t compete against Westerners since my music is based on Western music at the end of the day. At one point, I was like, “What should I do, then?” and I knew I had to do something fundamentally different from the rest. Some composers use the koto or shakuhachi, but they only function as embellishments or accents. 

That’s how I came to make The End around a decade ago, an “opera” with no conductor, orchestra, or human singer but just visuals onstage with Hatsune Miku as the singer. I created an opera without human beings. What was important was for me to conform to traditional operatic formats like recitative and aria styles. It had to be at Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris, a theater where conventional opera is shown. That contrast felt contemporary to me. I felt that disparity was something I could express because I’m Japanese. After that experience, I contemplated what human-free art I could make and came up with using an android.

Iijima: I see. So, that’s how you ended up using an android.

Shibuya: When you have an android singer or conductor instead of a human, that poses the question of how humans will evolve, and it could also be a metaphor for how humans are being used by technology in society. The limit of humans and society will change. Compared to 2018, when I made an android opera for the first time, I feel like people understand what it’s about now. 

Iijima: Androids are so eye-catching and appealing.

Shibuya: Androids are a bit creepy at the same time. Creepiness and scariness are very crucial elements of creative expression and art. 

Iijima: You might be right. Just like Scary Beauty (editor’s note: Shibuya’s first android opera shown in 2018).

Shibuya: Yeah. Seeing [an android] that looks like that sing a moving song gives you the chills. Feeling something you’ve never felt before is essential. 

–You also do contemporary dance, as you mentioned before, and do modeling in the fashion world. I’d like to know your mindset toward traditional and classical ballet.

Iijima: I like contemporary dance and fashion, so I’m lucky to work in those fields too. But for me, the number one thing is classical ballet. I’ve partially changed my mindset and the type of jobs I do to preserve classical ballet tradition. 

–In a previous interview, you talked about how you want more people to watch classical ballet in Japan.

Iijima: Yes. Many people in Japan have never seen ballet, even those working in the arts, theater, and fashion. Compared to America or Europe, not many people watch or understand it. It might be a cultural difference since, in the West, there’s a culture of taking children to museums or seeing ballet or theater for education. Also, I feel like many people in Japan are drawn to a dancer’s personality first. They then become a fan and watch ballet in the theater.

Shibuya: They have favorites.

Iijima: Exactly. I hope more people will start watching ballet by my appearing in various media. It’s hard to find the right balance, and I need to consider the right way to go about things, but I want to keep doing what I do because it’s essential to make people aware of ballet. 

A project born in an era where androids and AI are becoming widespread 

–Shibuya-san, what was it like collaborating with Iijima-san?

Shibuya: It was impressive how she created a new dance and did it rationally instead of dancing out of habit whenever we did another take. She viewed herself as one form of media; she controlled her moves as though she viewed herself from a bird’s eye perspective. She was quick to grasp important information too. This was the first time you did something new like this for a video, yes?

Iijima: Yes. I’m excited to see how people’s reactions. I hope people can enjoy it. It would make me happy if those who learned about me for the first time became interested in ballet and dance. 

Shibuya: It’s exciting to see how people will react to BORDERLINE in the future too. This also applies to this project, but I can do what I do because AI and androids are starting to become a part of everyday life. I’m interested to see what people will think of this project 30 years from now.

Iijima: I know. 

Shibuya: The gap between the past and present is apparent in most art forms, especially androids. I feel like prosperity might look at this project as crucial documentation of what humanity was doing at a certain period before the world ended.

■BORDERLINE
Composition, Concept, Direction, Keyboard by Keiichiro Shibuya
Lyrics by Cypher (AI)
Vocals by Alter3 (Android), Stephanie Poetri (88rising)
Dance by Nozomi Iijima
Android Supervised by Hiroshi Ishiguro
Android Programming by Shintaro Imai
GPT-3 programming by Takashi Ikegami
Choreography by Kenta Kojiri

Keiichiro Shibuya
Keiichiro Shibuya is a musician who graduated from Tokyo University of the Arts with a B.A. in Music Composition. In 2002, he founded the music label ATAK. His diverse soundscape covers areas such as cutting-edge electronic music, piano solos, opera, soundtrack music, sound installation, and so forth. His notable works include a Vocaloid opera comprised of no people called The End (2012) and the android opera Scary Beauty (2018). In September 2020, he created the soundtrack for the film Midnight Swan and won the Music Award at both the Mainichi Film Awards and the Japan Movie Critics Award. In August 2021, his opera Super Angels had its world premiere at New National Theater Tokyo. In March 2022, he showed his new android opera, MIRROR, a collaboration between an android, Buddhist music, shomyo, and an orchestra from the UAE at Expo 2020 Dubai. In April, he created the soundtrack for xxxHOLiC, a film by Mika Ninagawa. In August, Shibuya made the soundtrack for Kaguya by Gucci, a short film by Gucci. He explores the boundary between humans and technology and life and death.
http://atak.jp
Photography Mari Katayama

Nozomi Iijima
K-Ballet Company principal. Born in Osaka, Nozomi Iijima started dancing ballet at six years old. In 2007, after training at Houston Ballet, she joined the company at 16 years old, the youngest. She was promoted to principal in March 2019. Iijima has danced as Odette/Odile in Swan Lake, Juliette in Romeo and Juliette, Mitzi Caspar in Mayerling, the title role of Giselle, the title role of Sylvia, the Snow Queen, Clara, and Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker, the Lilac Fairy and Princess Florine in Sleeping Beauty, Suzuki in Madame Butterfly by Stanton Welch, Marie Antoinette in Marie, and more. She’s also danced the prominent roles in ballet by Kenneth MacMillan, William Forsythe, Jiří Kylián, Stanton Welch, and so forth.
Further, she’s danced in many contemporary pieces. Iijima appeared in Orchard Ballet Gala~Japanese Dancers~ directed by Tetsuya Kumakawa to commemorate the 30th anniversary of Bunkamura in July 2019. She became the beauty ambassador for Chanel in the same year. After returning to Japan in 2021, she danced in Don Quixote by K-Ballet Company in May as a guest dancer. She then became the principal dancer of K-Ballet Company in August. She rose the ranks to principal in March 2022. 
K-Ballet Company: https://www.k-ballet.co.jp/
Instagram: @nozo0806

Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post Behind the Scenes of the music video for “BORDERLINE” with Keiichiro Shibuya and Nozomi Iijima — “Massive Life Flow; Inside the Mind of Keiichiro Shibuya” Part 7 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

From business to science, the number of situations where people advocate for the necessity of art is dramatically increasing. Although the world doesn’t look different under the influence of the pandemic, people’s minds are changing; under such change, how does everyone’s perception of art transform? Gallerists, artists, and collectors are now researching and predicting what kind of art will appear in the post-covid generation.

The 11th installment is about NFTs. NFT art utilizing blockchain technology is breathing new life into the market both in cryptocurrency and the art world. But only a minority of people may have a firm grasp on the reality and function of NFTs. It’s not surprising, as blockchain technology and NFTs are still growing. The following is a conversation between Junya Yamamine, who demonstrates the social potential of art with the media and corporations using his experience as a museum curator, Taihei Shii, a contemporary artist and pioneer who commercialized the use of NFTs in art, and artist Sputniko!, whose iconic piece titled “Menstruation Machine – Takashi’s Take” was sold at 50 ETH (around 15 million yen at the time). In the first part, they talk about the potential of NFT art based on examples. 

The sudden appearance of a crucial missing piece in the age of information

Sputniko! : I’d like to hear from you, Shii-san, about the current state of NFTs. 

Taihei Shii (Shii): This might sound aggressive, abstract, and holier-than-thou in a way, but I felt like there was a demand in the art world for a market or distribution system that’s appropriate for this age of information. I saw signs of it but felt frustrated because it didn’t go mainstream for 15 years. Here’s my summary: regarding the virality of NFTs in the age of information, I feel like a crucial missing piece suddenly came out of nowhere. Those who ask why people buy NFTs are the type that questions the very act of buying art, while for those of us who regularly do that, NFTs are relatively easy to understand. I’ll say that art in the coming age of information has arrived. But of course, I sometimes feel wary that art has quickly become popular. 

Junya Yamamine (Yamamine): I stopped working for art museums around the beginning of the pandemic, and there was a phenomenon in which the number of Japanese art collectors suddenly increased. When it comes to the connection between the market and academia, not museums, art has partially become commodified while the base of art is supported and nurtured because of the birth of a new marketplace. Because society’s interest in it has increased, the anticipation of diversified works has become too high, which does cause some confusion. But I think people will become reasonable with time. 

I try to view NFTs objectively, and many people consult me, but all the practical things are yet to come. Instead of NFTs being a separate thing as they are now, I hope we’ll see a cycle of not dots but tangible actions so that they’ll merge with real-life contexts that were always there. 

Sputniko!: As an artist, I had always felt like something was missing in the art world. Today, more and more people discover and view my works online, and I work and communicate digitally more than otherwise. Until now, though, whenever I wanted to sell my artwork, everything happened in the traditional galleries and art fairs in the physical, offline world. I felt a little uncomfortable about that. So, I think “a crucial missing piece suddenly came out of nowhere” is an apt description. Like a sudden storm, NFTs emerged in 2021 and resolved all problems. 

Last fall, I sold “The Moonwalk Machine” at Shii-san’s SBI Art Auction, and it felt revolutionary. Like Yamamine-san says, the art world is in a period of chaos. Much like the dot-com bubble, an unknown entity came out of nowhere, and although there’s a lot of speculation, it was the missing piece. There’s no doubt that the way art exists will change in the future thanks to this new infrastructure where people could collect works online and exhibit them in a metaverse. I can’t speak to the current instability of the NFT market, but the internet has grown for sure. It hasn’t picked up in Japan yet, so compared to America, I feel like curators and artists alike are just getting started. It’s like we’re both waiting to see what will happen. I’m sure some artists and galleries don’t want to make mistakes, but I want to keep exploring. 

Shii: It was valuable for me to experience Spu-san’s mentality and be there when artists presented their works at the SBI Art Auction. I realized once again that people with a mentality like hers pave the way for the future. Spu-san has a cautious side and does a lot of research, but she also dares to take risks and make a move at the right time. 

Sputniko!: Thank you so much. Shii-san, you work with many artists and view art objectively, so I always wanted to talk to you about the circumstances surrounding art and NFTs. I’m also not sure about the word “risk”. I want to be careful and do my research, but I didn’t consider working in the NFT space as a risk. It was just a crucial decision.

Shii: I agree. 

Sputniko!: It doesn’t feel like I’m taking a risk. 

Shii: Innovator is the apt word. The commanding officer of making the leap.

Sputniko!: Right, you don’t know anything until you make the leap.

Shii: The first digital NFT we worked on was with Ryoji Ikeda-san. He’s not a part of the market and is uninterested in the NFT bubble, but when he saw the technological paradigm shift and said, “I want to take the plunge before everyone starts using NFTs,” I felt that he was very aware. There’s a feminist activist art collective called Pussy Riot. They gained attention because they raised funds for their activism by selling NFTs on Foundation, an NFT marketplace. Ikeda-san said he felt the potential of NFTs when he saw what Pussy Riot was doing, and I think that overlaps with what Spu-san does. I believe the foundation of NFTs could be built the more artists with discerning taste utilize NFTs. 

Sputniko!: I’ve always loved Pussy Riot. They’re a radical, feminist art collective and are also musicians. They’re cool. They recently launched Unicorn DAO, a DAO (decentralized autonomous organization) that supports women and LGBTQIA+ artists, and I became one of the curators. Right now, Pussy Riot is a central, symbolic figure among NFT artists, but they were previously quite distant from the conventional art market. 

Shii: They became famous after barging onto the field during the World Cup, right (laughs)? 

Sputniko!: I’ve been a fan of them since they were arrested for their anti-Putin performance in 2012, but perhaps the World Cup was when they became famous in Japan. Through Foundation, which you brought up, they raised funds by selling works and donated part of the profits to a shelter for women who are domestic violence survivors. In an interview, they said that artists with political statements are able to raise funds via NFTs. If some people are biased and think NFTs are just for business, I want to tell them that’s not the case.

Shii: If anything, it has a real anarchist essence. 

Yamamine: That hasn’t been acknowledged in Japan yet. Here, people picture the NFT bubble and think it’s tied to the economy within the art scene. I feel like that makes people feel unsure. But I see its potential. In terms of DAO and anarchism, an authoritarian structure preserves the art world, which determines the value and distribution of art. Overseas, buying and selling are at the core, so as someone with a background in filmmaking, I’ve felt that it’s difficult for artists working with social and political issues to thrive in the conventional art market.

Sputniko!: I’m so happy you understand (laughs)! 

Yamamine: There are many opportunities for artists because through anarchism, an ideology about being liberated from central authoritarian powers, people built a community and created an ecosystem. It’s great how it’s possible to make a community, but I hope more people in the country could see the precedents it took to get here. 

Sputniko!: Yeah. To share an example, Unicorn DAO was founded by a group of collectors who share a mission to collect and promote art by LGBTQIA+ and women artists as an antithesis to the patriarchal world of technology and crypto. I love all the artists supported by UnicornDAO. There’s an artist duo who creates art that looks like female genitalia with clay, and 200 of them are sold out now on OpenSea.

Shii: I like it. Maybe I should buy it. 

Sputniko!: UnicornDAO is trying to collect art from LGBTQIA+ and women artists to get more attention to their works and raise their value. Artists can make money from NFTs now, but it’s not like they’re trying to take advantage of the situation out of self-interest. If anything, they’re trying to distribute their profits. 

Shii: Is the mechanism like, you use the DAO to raise funds and decide what to buy by voting? 

Sputniko!: The members of the DAO decide what to buy. UnicornDAO believes if they buy art, the community could feel empowered. 

Yamamine: I didn’t know there were different types of NFT artists like those who make physical ceramic art or activists who perform.

Sputniko!: I also wonder what sort of people will join the DAO. I want more people to know about this movement. 

Creating a space where people can get together through common interests regardless of region 

Yamamine: I want to ask your thoughts, Shii-san. I assume many socially significant artists had a tough time selling their works upon creating a community. They couldn’t carve out their own space. We should be talking about people like that. Artists at the Venice Biennale may have the ability to say something about society, but it’s hard for them to sell their work within the market, so things were hard for a while. It looks like they buy NFTs to share a narrative and space where they could get together with others with similar values, thoughts, and attitudes. I think that’s where artists who have struggled thus far will emerge. Also, thanks to the digitalization of cultural assets, we’re bound to be able to preserve tangible things. I can see so much potential, like NFTs being the solution to many things. It’s about how we view DAOs, NFTs, and metaverses and what we can do within those relationships. 

Shii: I think there can be a scenario where artworks unappreciated by the marketplace could be at the forefront through DAOs and metaverses. I spoke about how NFTs came onto the scene as a solution to the information society. The trigger was covid. I touched on that first because although NFTs are just a form of technology, what you valorize is imperative. I believe you can create a rhizomatic society where people appreciate diversity in an information society. But looking at the data about the art market pre-covid, close to 80% of sold art by Black artists was by Jean-Michel Basquiat, and I heard that if Yayoi Kusama weren’t a woman, her art would’ve been dealt at a different price. 

This is slightly off-topic, but an intelligent person predicted that a massive social issue related to discrimination would occur right after the covid breakout. Just like they predicted, the BLM movement happened. After that, a Black person became the chief curator of the Guggenheim, and people started talking about whether they were off the hook if they hired Black people for everything. This applies to #metoo, but anti-discrimination movements are closely related to an information society. This information society progressed due to covid, and the social structure, which has a synergetic relationship, made itself visible too. What I thought was interesting in this sort of situation is CryptoPunks. 60% of the 10,000 characters are male, and 40% are women. Nine characters are AlienPunks, and a few have hats on. Unlike the real world, in the CryptoPunks ecosystem, the value of the male characters is the lowest even though they’re the majority. That way of thinking stands out on DAOs. Rare things, not popular things, are seen as valuable and powerful. I reached out to Spu-san when we were having our first NFT sale at the SBI Art Auction because it was when international male entrepreneurs were going to the moon. When I was organizing the event, I felt that “The Moonwalk Machine,” in which Sputniko! leaves her footprints behind on the moon, was in tune with the times. More than anything, she matched the statement of the sale. Her post-human ideology was timely too. Even before NFTs became popular, Spu-san was a good match because there was an underlying potential of NFTs in her concepts. That struck me. In general, I think her kind of world goes well with DAOs, NFTs, and metaverses. 

Yamamine: There is the issue of language, but communities that can speak English could create a space where like-minded people could get together beyond national borders. It’s interesting to cross countries, regions, fields, and other boundaries we couldn’t prior. We can expect the economy to follow. 

Sputniko!: Until today, patrons of the arts and culture were the rich during times like the Renaissance and Industrial Revolution. These past two decades have been the era of technological innovation, but I think there wasn’t a sufficient infrastructure for tech billionaires to support the arts. NFT feels like a platform that solves some of that problem. But from the perspective of the conventional art world, it might seem like the tech world has come to exploit it. Platforms like Napster, YouTube and Spotify made the previously CD-dominant music industry struggle. The new technology of NFT might create a paradigm shift in the art world. 

Junya Yamamine
Junya Yamamine is a curator and representative director of NYAW. After working as a curator at the Tokyo Photographic Art Museum, the 21st Century of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa, and Art Tower Mito’s Contemporary Art Center, Junya Yamamine became involved in managing projects for ANB Tokyo in Roppongi. He also organizes and oversees the Meet Your Art Festival by Avex and art projects by the media and corporations. Yamamine’s notable exhibitions include The World Began without the Human Race and It Will End without It. (National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts).

Taihei Shii
Contemporary artist. Representative director of Startbahn and Art Beat. Taihei Shii spent his childhood in America. He graduated from the University of Tokyo Graduate School of Interdisciplinary Information Studies. After completing the Tama Art University Painting Course in 2001, Shii began creating art based on the concept of art in the age of the internet. He shows his works at galleries and museums today. He conceptualized Startbahn in 2006, earned a patent in the US, and launched it while being in grad school. Shii became the representative director of Art Beat in 2020 and has given speeches at various lectures and panel discussions.

Sputniko!
Sputniko! is a multi-media artist and filmmaker creating works on themes of technology, gender and feminism. Her work has been exhibited at the MoMA, Centre-Pompidou Metz, V&A, the Cooper Hewitt, Mori Art Museum, and she was awarded Vogue Japan Woman of the Year in 2013. Sputniko! taught at the MIT Media Lab as an Assistant Professor and was the director of Design Fiction Group from 2013 to 2017. She is currently an Associate Professor at the Tokyo University of Arts. Sputniko! has also been selected as a TED Fellow and gave her TED Fellow talk in TED 2019. She was also selected as one of the Young Global Leaders by the World Economic Forum and moderated sessions in Davos 2020. To date, she has had her works included in the permanent collections of museums such as the Victoria and Albert Museum (UK) and the 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art, Kanazawa (Japan).

Translation Lena Grace Suda

The post The missing piece that NFTs brought to the art world: a conversation between Junya Yamamine, Taihei Shii, and Sputniko! (part I) appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

On December 18, 2021, “INTERDIFFUSION A tribute to Yoshi Wada,” a concert dedicated to Yoshi Wada, a pioneer in the drone world who passed away in May of the same year, was held at an abandoned school in the mountains of Hokuto City, Yamanashi Prefecture. A special venue covered entirely with white cloth was set up in the gymnasium of a former elementary school about an hour’s bus ride from the nearest train station. Before the performance began, a mysterious purple light created an mystical atmosphere. Due to a severe cold wave that hit the mountainous area where the venue was located that day, the audience gradually lost sensation in their limbs. However, it was certainly an unforgettable audiovisual experience, as if they had wandered into an unworldly other world.

The concert featured a 10-member ensemble performing an 80-minute composition created by musician/composer Koshiro Hino and pipe organist/sound artist Yosuke Fujita (FUJI|||||||||||TA), who had collaborated on the piece for this occasion. The electro-acoustic drones that interdiffuse sounds were reminiscent of Yoshi Wada, while each player’s outstanding performance and sound manipulation designed the entire space, creating a subtle yet dynamic sound field. The addition of lighting that kept synchronizing/desynchronizing  the sounds brought about an extraordinary time-space that resembles a religious ceremony, but is also like an immediate experiment.

What does it mean to face Yoshi Wada’s music in this day and age? Or what possibilities can we draw from it? In the second part of the special conversation between Koshiro Hino and FUJI|||||||||||TA, who were central figures in the tribute live show, they discussed the essence of tribute in “INTERDIFFUSION” and how they perceive their musical practices in relation to academic/non-academic and notions of music/art. We also asked them about their music recommendations to listen to alongside of Yoshi Wada.

The essence of tribute in “INTERDIFFUSION”

–I believe that there are many different approaches to give tribute to Yoshi Wada’s musical legacy. What elements of Yoshi Wada did you plan to incorporate into “INTERDIFFUSION” and how did you translate them into the relevant form of expression?

Koshiro Hino (Hino): There was little talk of “incorporating this element as a tribute.” For both myself and Fujita-san, Yoshi Wada is a very big part of our musical activities. So I thought it would be meaningful as a tribute to Yoshi Wada just to create a new work with that as a common understanding. Of course, in the process, I had to reexamine Yoshi Wada in my own way. For example, I used the relationship between the pipe horns and oscillators in “Earth Horns with Electronic Drone” (2009) as a reference, and I went through a process of trial and error to find out how a duo of Fujita-san’s self-made pipe organ and my oscillators could coordinate well. Then, based on the duo, we added other instruments and developed the concept of the music for an ensemble performance. However, such an approach itself was not that important to us, but rather the fact that a generation influenced by Yoshi Wada was creating new forms of expression was the most significant thing.

FUJI|||||||||||TA (Fujita): Yes, that’s right. Rather than incorporating specific elements, in the tribute, our first priority was to approach the music with Yoshi Wada in the forefront of our mind. Also, for me personally, the fact that I was able to perform with Hino-san for the first time because of Yoshi Wada itself was significant and valuable. It was only because of Yoshi Wada that I was able to create such an opportunity. So I thought it would be good for the two of us to simply create a new work together.

–Why did you decide to create a new work, rather than reenacting or rearranging Yoshi Wada’s works?

Hino: In my mind, there were two reasons: First, if we were going to perform Yoshi Wada’s work again in a tribute event, there must be other people who would be more suitable. In other words, there is Tashi Wada, the composer/performer who is Yoshi Wada’s son. So I didn’t feel the need to re-perform the piece myself. Another reason is that I imagined it would also be better for Yoshi Wada to have new music created by people who were influenced by him, rather than to perform the same piece again. So we decided to create a completely new piece as a tribute.

Fujita: That was an unspoken premise that we shared without having to talk about it.

Hino: Yeah. We didn’t even come up with the idea of a revival, but rather, we started by talking about what we should make. Even if Tashi Wada would not perform the piece again in the future, we would have created a new piece anyway. I think that any attempt by a third party to ruminate on Yoshi Wada’s work would be better served by a solid verification process in the academic realm. You know, we are only artists.

“Rigidly committed to the non-academic world as a starting point”

–For example, it can be said that it is only through academic investigation and research that we can carefully delve into the reenactment of past sound works, as pointed out by Tomotaro Kaneko, a scholar of auditory culture theory in his book “Japanese Art Sound Archive.” What do you think?

Hino: There is a man named Kazuhiro Jo, who is an associate professor at Kyushu University, with whom I have been teaching composition classes. In the “Generative Music Workshop” that I am conducting with Kaneko, we are reenacting Steve Reich’s “Music of Pendulums” and Alvin Lussier’s “Music of Long, Thin Wires” in their own way, and they are meticulously examining how acoustic phenomena are generated. Conversely, because excellent researchers like them can play the role of re-enacting, analyzing, and explaining past works, we feel that we must play our own role as people who create new works.

Fujita: I feel the same way. By the way, while you are working as an artist, you are also a part-time lecturer at Kyushu University. In terms of academic/non-academic, where do you position your activities?

Hino: Well ……, I certainly have a strong interest in the academic world. And I am actually teaching. However, I dropped out of college, and I am not what you would call academically educated. So I feel like I am in between the academic and non-academic worlds.

Fujita: What I found interesting about your musical practices is that you start from a non-academic point of view, while at the same time creating your works with an academic context in mind. You exert a presence in the academic world, but your work is based on the non-academic world. I think that is very important. There are very few musicians who work from such a position, and even if they wanted to, it would not be very easy to do so. I think it is possible because you have the ability to actually embody it. I think it’s amazing.

Hino: It is difficult to polarize academic/non-academic, but in reality, I feel that I am still not recognized from the academic side, and I think that there are some people from the non-academic side who may consider me to be an academic. But what is important in this context is that, as Fujita-san says, non-academic is the base of my work. I am sometimes called a contemporary composer these days, but all my projects, such as YPY and GEIST, are based on my experiences and ideas gained in the band. However, I also have a strong interest in academic analysis and methods of expression, so I would like to have both perspectives.

However, the more ambiguous the environment in which I am placed, the more difficult it can be to fit myself comfortably in a certain place. For example, I feel quite out of place in the academic world. And I have to express myself on the premise that my form of expression is not easily accepted within it. Of course, that difficult situation can inspire me, but actually expressing oneself in that situation can be painful as well. The same thing happens when I am in the dance music world. When I am placed in the context of techno music, I am totally different from it no matter what I do. Of course, I am interested in that context, but I don’t necessarily want to express myself in that context. However, depending on the venue or event, the audience is looking for techno, so I often feel I am not welcomed. So being in between the two is always accompanied by suffering. But because of that suffering, it is also a great joy when I am accepted. But working with Fujita-san on “INTERDIFFUSION” was a pleasant experience. That attempt itself was something in between.

Between music and art, or the difference between the two

–Yoshi Wada can be said to be somewhere between music and art. For both of you, do you position him as musicians or an audiovisual artist?

Fujita: I see him as a musically oriented artist. Of course, Yoshi Wada himself had a different perspective from a pure form of music, but in my mind, he is not positioned as an audiovisual artist.

Hino: It is difficult, isn’t it? Yoshi Wada is both an audiovisual artist and not an artist, and the same can be said about his music. He is not on either side of the spectrum, so I think he is somewhere in between the two. The fact that he shifted his main focus onto installation in the latter half of his career only makes it appear as though he has turned toward audiovisual art, but what he was doing was essentially the same.

–The practices of Hino-san and Fujita-san also fall somewhere between music and art. But how do you two view the difference between music and sound art?

Fujita: There are many ways to look at the differences. It is often said, for example, whether or not the artist is on site. If the artist is on site, the work can be categorized as a performance, and if not, it can be treated in the context of art as an installation. The latter would be called sound art, but that is not the absolute definition. There are performances in an art context, and even in music, there are many live performances where the player is not on site. So, it is just a difference in the context in which the expression is located. The other difference is whether the artist himself is presenting it as music, or whether he/she is trying to place it in the context of sound art.

Hino: I think so too. I am often attracted to works that fall somewhere between sound art and music, and that cannot be fully defined as one or the other. There is also the academic/non-academic issue I mentioned earlier. In the case of Yoshi Wada, he did his own practices sensorily, and the resulting works were either musically oriented or sound art-like. But this was only possible through his consistent non-academic attitude. In the academic world, most artists set a goal and an end point first, and then proceed with their work toward that goal. For Yoshi Wada, creating a self-made instrument called a pipe horn was not the first goal he set, but rather the interesting result of experimenting with various things. I think that only because sounds were recorded, they ended up in the format of music.

–Do you actually feel a difference between music and art as an institution when you place yourself in the specific site?

Fujita: I clearly do. For example, the Sapporo International Art Festival 2017, in which I participated with the installation work “CELL,” which made audible the sound of horsefly larvae, clearly existed as a site in an art context. Therefore, the approach is completely different from that of a live performance at a music site. Considering the institutional differences, I feel that I am a person who feels closer to music, and I end up wanting to perform at music venues. I feel safer there.

Hino: I have almost no experience working in the field of art. We have basically done everything ourselves, from fundraising to site preparation for stage performances, and I have almost never been invited to do anything other than music. However, I am currently working on an installation. I am also a person feels closer to music, but I think I would be able to find a new side of myself only through working in an art context.

Fujita: There are kinds of works that are only possible because they are in the form of installations, not live performances. The way of perceiving the time axis of a work also changes between a live performance and an installation, so I think there are many things that can be challenged in this kind of sound art field. Personally, however, I don’t think I am suited to places like museums. Of course, it depends on the site, so I can’t make a general statement, but I find it difficult to come to terms with the archival aspect of a museum. For example, if I were to create a sound installation, I would feel that it would be more interesting to present it in a different space than in a museum. Considering this, I feel that it would be better to create the entire site myself, as Hino-san does.

Music recommendations to listen to alongside of Yoshi Wada

–I believe that there are listeners who started listening to Yoshi Wada’s works because of “INTERDIFFUSION”. For those listeners, is there any music that you would like them to listen to alongside of Yoshi Wada?

Fujita: Although the genres and periods of activity are completely different, I thought of Erik Satie if I were to place someone alongside Yoshi Wada. I feel that he has a strong affinity for Yoshi Wada. Satie is now regarded as a great classical musician who is even in textbooks, but during his lifetime, he was seen as an eccentric, and even after his death, he remained a heretic until the boom of the 1970s and 80s. He created music that was so innovative that it made a mockery of the fine history of conventional Western music. Yoshi Wada’s drone music also has a part that questions or makes the mockery of the existing history of music, and I think they can be comparable with each other in terms of humour as well.

Hino: The album “Gruidés” released in 2015 by Stephan O’Malley of Sunn O)))) just came to my mind. It is an orchestral work, but it is basically a drone that changes slowly, with percussive sounds inserted here and there as if to drive a wedge in the sound. I thought that this kind of approach to composing gave the work a similar feeling to Yoshi Wada’s “The Appointed Cloud”. However, if we were to delve into drone music with Yoshi Wada as a starting point, Stephan O’Malley might be a little too hard-core. Haha.

Fujita: Erik Satie is also totally different from his music.

Hino: If I had to recommend something to someone who hasn’t listened to much contemporary classical or minimal/drone music before and is now ready to delve into such music, La Monte Young would be the best place to start.

Fujita: Also, I would like this kind of person to listen to Pandit Pran Nath. In my case, I actually listened to Pandit Plan Nath before I listened to Yoshi Wada, so when I first heard Yoshi Wada’s album, I felt like I understood how Pran Nath had inspired Yoshi Wada. And let’s not forget Charlemagne Palestine as one of the most important minimal/drone figures. Although a generation younger than Young, he is one of the pioneers of minimal music in American experimental music. I think Palestine’s music is similar to Yoshi Wada’s drone world. If I were to organize an event, I would like to organize a two-men show of Yoshi Wada and Palestine.

Hino: Indeed. Depending on which perspective we delve into, it seems that we may be able to place a variety of music next to Yoshi Wada.

Koshiro Hino
Player / composer for goat and bonanzas. As a solo project, he works on a cassette deck collage of electronic music and field recordings under the name of “YPY,” with a focus on a broad range of genres from dance music to avant-garde collage/noise. He also composes and directs “GEIST,” a live performance mixing numerous speakers and performers. He is also the director of “Birdfriend,” a cassette label that releases underground musicians from Japan and abroad, and “Nakid,” a label that releases contemporary/electronic music.
Instagram: @po00oq

FUJI|||||||||||TA
He has been creating intonarumori, sound installations, film music, music for dance works, with a special focus on his solo performances using his own pipe organ and variety of elements including voice and water. In addition to his solo work, he has collaborated with EYƎ (Boredoms) on the stage “Memoriam” and with Fuyuki Yamakawa on the show “Country Gentlemen”. He has also produced film and animation music, and exhibited sound installations in various fields. He released NOISEEM on the London-based label 33-33.
Instagram: @fujilllllllllllta

■INTERDIFFUSION A tribute to Yoshi Wada

Future plans include the release of a film of the tribute concert (May 2022) and a live recording (date to be determined).
Instagram:@interdiffusion.yoshiwada

Edit Jun Ashizawa(TOKION)
Translation Shinichiro Sato(TOKION)

The post The Creative Practices of the Next Generation of Musicians to Inherit the Music of Yoshi Wada　– A Special Conversation between Koshiro Hino x FUJI|||||||||||TA, Part.2　 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Do you know Yoshi Wada, one of the pioneers of drone music who passed away last May? He moved to New York City, USA, in 1967, and by curious coincidence became involved with the members of Fluxus, while developing his own unique musical career. Inspired by contemporary classical music composer La Monte Young, North Indian classical vocalist Pandit Pran Nath, and other talents, he pioneered the realm of drone music. His activities, such as the development of his original musical instruments, the utilization of unique acoustic spaces, and the creation of sound installations, easily transcended boundaries of existing genres such as music and art, and are still filled with an inexhaustible appeal.

Although Yoshi Wada had long been unknown here in Japan, since the late 2000s, M Records and Omega Point had collaborated to reissue and release Yoshi Wada’s albums for the first time. This led to a reevaluation of his musical practice and attracted the attention of the next generation of musicians. Among them are musician/composer Koshiro Hino and self-made pipe organist/sound artist Yosuke Fujita (FUJI|||||||||||TA), who both profess to be influenced by Yoshi Wada. Last December, these two collaborated for the first time to hold a tribute show “INTERDIFFUSION A tribute to Yoshi Wada” with an ensemble consisting of a total of 10 members.

In response to this event, TOKION held a special conversation about Yoshi Wada between Koshiro Hino and FUJI|||||||||||TA, who were central figures in the tribute live. In the first part of the conversation, we asked them about how they first encountered the music of Yoshi Wada, their favorite albums, the significance of being non-academic artist, and the appeal of drone music, which is characterized by “one note that just goes on”.

Meeting Yoshi Wada’s works through M Records & Omega Point

–How did you two start listening to Yoshi Wada’s music?

Koshiro Hino: I first listened to the album “Earth Horns with Electronic Drone,” which was jointly released by M Records and Omega Point in 2009. I had been checking out M Records’ releases before that, so I came to know him through the reissue/first-time recording series of Yoshi Wada’s works.

FUJI|||||||||||TA (Fujita): I got to know of him around the same time. This increase in his visibility is due in large part to the efforts of M Records and Omega Point. At the time, my own pipe organ was in the planning stages, and although I had an image of it in my mind, I was hesitant about whether to actually build it. Then I bought “The Appointed Cloud” (2008), and when I looked at the cover and the photos in the liner notes, his instruments in the images were very similar to the image of my own pipe organ that I had in my head. Furthermore, when I listened to it, I found that the sound was very similar too, which inspired me to try to build my own pipe organ.

–What was your impression when you first listened to his music?

Hino: I was instantly captivated when I listened to it. Until then, I had been working on the so-called “noise/improvisation” sound, and on avant-garde improvisational session but I gradually grew tired of them. And I came across Yoshi Wada’s music when I started playing minimal/drone music myself, which made me thought vividly, “There is such an approach!” I didn’t know what exactly it was, but it felt good. It was one of the reasons for me to enter the world of drones, which I had not yet clearly grasped at the time.

Fujita: I originally liked Steve Reich and Terry Riley, and at first I listened to Yoshi Wada’s music as one of that kind of minimal music. But what impressed me even more was the fact that he is a person who makes his own pipe-shaped instruments. And if I had not met Yoshi Wada’s works, I might not have made my own pipe organ. He was such a decisive influence on my musical career.

–Did your impression of Yoshi Wada’s music change as you listened to his albums over and over again?

Fujita: Actually, my impression hasn’t changed much, and even now, more than 10 years later, I still perceive it in the same way as I did when I listened to it for the first time.

Hino: No matter how many times I listen to his music my initial impression did not change. However, I started listening to it analytically at some point. Especially in terms of “The Appointed Cloud,” I vaguely thought it was “something amazing even though I didn’t really understand it,” and I kept wondering why I thought so. So when I composed for an orchestral project called “Virginal Variations” in 2016, I decided to incorporate Yoshi Wada’s music as one reference, and I analyzed “The Appointed Cloud”. After examining various factors including the instrumentation, and time structure, it turned out that the sound switches just about every minute, for example. So the resolution of listening experiences of that album became higher and higher. The impression remains the same, but what I hear became clearer and clearer. I began to listen to the album as if I were looking at it through a microscope, so to speak. The project “GEIST,” which I am currently working on, has also been inspired by and conceived from the findings of the analysis.

Favorite Albums of Koshiro Hino and FUJI|||||||||||TA

–There have been a total of five albums released under the name Yoshi Wada. Which is your most favorite album when you look back on them again now?

Fujita: I like “Off the Wall” (1985/2008) released on FMP the best. I first listened to it right after “The Appointed Cloud” and still find it fascinating. It’s not a polished album because the recording quality isn’t great and how the sound ends is quite rough. But that’s what makes it so interesting, as if the form of  expression has been stripped down to the barest essentials. It was just like an embodiment of Yoshi Wada’s experimental spirit being just popped out.

Hino: Yeah, you are right. Basically, it is rough and primitive in a sense and that’s what I like about it. But compared to “Earth Horns with Electronic Drone,” which is characterized by the endless drones, “Off the Wall” seemed to be made to fit on a record. So I like how it is unexpectedly well composed.

Fujita: Indeed. Which album is your favorite?

Hino: For me, my favorite album may change depending on the time. My first gateway to his music was “Earth Horns with Electronic Drone,” but the one that made the biggest impact on me was still “The Appointed Cloud.” But I kept listening to it analytically, trying to figure out why it had such an impact on me, and part of me can no longer enjoy it purely as music. It is difficult to get the same kind of impact unless you forget everything you have analyzed. Also, I have to admit that I didn’t like “Singing in Unison” (2012) very much at first, but now I think it’s very good. I am an adjunct instructor at Kyushu University, where I teach a composition class, and in the class we used a reverberation room, a space that generates a very long reverberation. I had 15 students stand in a circle, turned off the lights, and let them play the music with simple rules at the signal of lights. In this class, I decided to introduce Yoshi Wada’s “Singing in Unison” as a reference for a vocal music piece. So I listened to the music again while looking at the score, which was very good. It was a new angle of listening that led me to new discoveries.

–As with all of his albums, one of characteristics of Yoshi Wada’s music is the juxtaposition of two opposing elements: acoustic and electronic sounds, voices and instruments, and physical and mechanical. Have you ever found such an approach appealing?

Hino: When different things like the automated and live performances in “The Appointed Cloud” overlap, it creates a mystery that cannot be understood just by listening to the sound. That is what attracts me. In the beginning, I listened to the music without distinguishing between these two elements. In terms of “Earth Horns with Electronic Drone,” I listened to it without separating the oscillators and the pipe horns at first, and although I didn’t really understand what was going on, I was attracted to it anyway. In retrospect, one of the reasons for such enigmatic appeal turned out to be the approach of juxtaposing the two elements.

Fujita: My own expression is both organic and electronic, so in that sense I share some commonalities with Yoshi Wada in my approach, but as to why he juxtaposed two opposing elements, I think it was inevitable consequence. Especially since what I can do with my self-made instruments is quite limited, I feel compelled to incorporate conflicting and dissimilar elements impulsively. Of course, the work itself is possible in the form of an installation, but if I were to develop the sound from that point, I would be forced to incorporate elements that are different from those of an installation. For example, if we juxtapose a bagpipe performance by a human being, we can create a degree of freedom that is not possible with the automatic performance of an installation.

Sympathy toward Yoshi Wada’s non-academic attitude

–Did you discover anything new about Yoshi Wada’s music through this “INTERDIFFUSION” tribute?

Hino: Since I listened to his music quite analytically when I did “Virginal Variations” project, I noticed and discovered more about the sound then. However, Yusuke Nakano, a person who organized this tribute project, gathered a lot of information on Yoshi Wada, and among them was a video of his installation. When I saw it, I was very surprised.

Fujita: Yeah. I was also surprised to find how the sound was created.

Hino: That was exactly the same as what I am doing now with “GEIST! Haha. I realized that the essence of Yoshi Wada is not only in the sound, but also in the visual/spatial elements.

Fujita: In that sense, my impression of Yoshi Wada may have changed a little. My first impression was that he was more of a music-oriented artist. However, he also placeed great importance on presenting his works in the form of installations, as he did with “The Appointed Cloud. I learned this again during the creation process of “INTERDIFFUSION” this time.

Hino: The reason why any recordings after “The Appointed Cloud” has not been released is because he was shifting his main focus onto installations rather than pure form of music.

I feel the primitive quality that was possible because of that era. He has done things that we would hesitate to do now. The way the automatic performance was presented gives me a sense of purity and looks as if the music was created instinctively and presented as it was.

Fujita: I think so too. Now, there are various installations taking place all over the world now, but there are already histories and contexts that have been formed. So when a new work is created afterwards, the artist’s purity is often diluted by referring to such various elements including histories and contexts.

Hino: I suppose he got to such a form of expression only though continued work in the non-academic field. That is a point with which I can really sympathize. Actually, at first I thought Yoshi Wada was more of an academic artist. I was like, “This is the drone of so-called contemporary classical music!” But as I learned more about his background, I realized that he was a non-academic artist. I think that academic artists tend to have a well-defined methodology, or they often start with a framework and then work out the details, but such a method does not always produce interesting sounds, even if it is a new approach. Yoshi Wada, on the contrary, tried various things without caring about the outer frame, and kept pursuing what he felt was essential. I think such a non-academic attitude was trustworthy, and that is why he was able to capture the hearts of listeners even if he didn’t have a substantial background of contemporary classical music.

Fujita: I think the creation of self-made instruments was also a crystallization of such a non-academic attitude. That is why I am very sympathetic to him. It is exactly the DIY spirit. Yoshi Wada worked as a plumber after coming to the U.S., didn’t he? That says, rather than preparing pipes in order to make his own instruments, he first of all had pipes as something available at hand. I think he made use of the tools he had at hand and the knowledge he gained from his work to create his own instruments. I have been trying to realize my vision by using the materials that I can buy at hardware store. Of course, there are many times when I fail, but unlike the sophisticated instruments that are already available, if I can do it successfully, I can create an instrument that compels the soul just by sounding a single note.

Interesting features of the drone that highlight the listener’s awareness

–The main characteristic of drone music, including the music of Yoshi Wada, is that “one note goes on endlessly.” For listeners who are not familiar with drone music, this may seem dull and boring, but what do you feel is the appeal of this kind of drone music?

Fujita: I don’t think that “one note going on endlessly” in itself is attractive, and such a feature itself would naturally bore people. Rather, I think there is value in the experience of something like passing through a door over time, as a result of the endless succession of simple elements. One approach to bringing about such an experience is drone, and I believe that this is the same for minimal music that repeats same phrases and, say, for South American ayahuasca ceremonial music. There is something interesting about accomplishing something with very simple rules, and it can bring the listener into a kind of trance state. I think that is the appeal of drones.

Hino: Yes, that’s right. Also, I think it is important what kind of situation you listen to it in. If it is a live performance, at least when I play, I see it as music for trance, so drone is one methodology for that. But if I just play drone recordings when I’m at home, I can’t get the same trance-like feeling as at a show, and it just functions as background music. Of course, even if you listen to it at home, if you take the time to stay focused on the piece, you can still get a trance experience.

Fujita: It is easier to do it live, isn’t it? In a live performance, there is some kind of sense of compulsion to stay in the moment.

Hino: It was interesting to hear everyone’s impressions after the first rehearsal of “INTERDIFFUSION. Some said, “I felt like I was getting into the details of each instrument and sound, but I also felt as if I was looking at the whole piece from a bird’s eye view. ” So such a shift of awareness can occur in us.

Fujita: I guess you could say that is another feature of drones. There are extremely few musical elements, so it get listener’s awareness in play.

Hino: It could also be said that there is a sense of getting closer and closer to the inner world. Some people have described it as “like dreaming,” and I thought that was very true. Going into the inner consciousness itself was one of our goals through the tribute event. Fujita: Going into the inner consciousness also includes an act of losing concentration, doesn’t it? I think that different people have different things in their consciousness, but for example, at a drone show, while listening to the sound, you may suddenly lose your concentration and start thinking about your daily life or work. After a while, however, you start listening to the sound again. I think drone shows are interesting because they bring about an experience in which the listener’s consciousness moves back and forth between the sounds of the outside world and what is going on inside of him or her. So I think it is interesting that the drone show highlights more and more details of the listener’s consciousness.

Koshiro Hino
Player / composer for goat and bonanzas. As a solo project, he works on a cassette deck collage of electronic music and field recordings under the name of “YPY,” with a focus on a broad range of genres from dance music to avant-garde collage/noise. He also composes and directs “GEIST,” a live performance mixing numerous speakers and performers. He is also the director of “Birdfriend,” a cassette label that releases underground musicians from Japan and abroad, and “Nakid,” a label that releases contemporary/electronic music.
Instagram: @po00oq

FUJI|||||||||||TA
He has been creating intonarumori, sound installations, film music, music for dance works, with a special focus on his solo performances using his own pipe organ and variety of elements including voice and water. In addition to his solo work, he has collaborated with EYƎ (Boredoms) on the stage “Memoriam” and with Fuyuki Yamakawa on the show “Country Gentlemen”. He has also produced film and animation music, and exhibited sound installations in various fields. He released NOISEEM on the London-based label 33-33.
Instagram: @fujilllllllllllta

■INTERDIFFUSION A tribute to Yoshi Wada
Future plans include the release of a film of the tribute concert (May 2022) and a live recording (date to be determined).
Instagram: interdiffusion.yoshiwada

Edit Jun Ashizawa(TOKION)
Translation Shinichiro Sato(TOKION)

The post Who is Yoshi Wada, the Master of the Drone World?　- A Special Conversation between Koshiro Hino and FUJI|||||||||||TA, Part.1 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.