Tracklist:
1. Margo Guryan – Think Of Rain
2. Javier Somarriba – Contigo Llegaron Los Colores
3. Joni Mitchell – God Must Be A Boogie Man
4. Wendy & Bonnie – Children Laughing
5. Nadi Qamar – After Glow
6. Maki Asakawa – ふしあわせという名の猫
7. Once – Joanna
8. Affinity – I Wonder If I Care As Much
9. Linda Cohen – Arroyo
10. Mariangela – Memories of Friends
11. The Cyrkle – The Visit (She Was Here)
12. Judee Sill – The Archetypal Man
13. Quarteto Em Cy – Tudo Que Você Podia Ser
14. World Standard – Loving Spoonful
15. Robbie Basho – Orphan’s Lament
16. Psychic TV – White Nights
17. Colin Blunstone – Smoky Day
18. Mary Margaret O’Hara – You Will Be Loved Again
19. Pat Metheny, Lyle Mays & Nana Vasconcelos – Estupenda Graça
Gossamer folk ballads and cinematic string arrangements from musician, singer, and songwriter Doji Morita (stage name). Born in Tokyo, Morita-san began her musical career after the death of a friend, and made seven records in the span of her eight year long musical career. An intensely private person, Morita-san chose not to perform often or in large venues, and though she was signed to major labels, she avoided exposure and increased commercialization wherever possible. She wore a wig and sunglasses in most photos and live appearances, and eventually stepped away from music completely to focus on her domestic life. Sadly, she passed away a few months ago at the age of 65.
The records of hers that I’ve spent time with, such as the also excellent スカイ = きみは悲しみの青い空をひとりで飛べるか (Mother Sky), are all colored by her intense melancholy and nostalgia, and A Boy ボーイ is no exception. Spanish guitar, swelling and cinematic string arrangements, and hushed, forlorn vocals. I imagine that in addition to her folk contemporaries, Morita-san was heavily inspired by Brazilian, Portuguese, and even Cape Verdean musical traditions, with a lot of her instrumentation, vocal lines, and vocal inflections strongly suggesting morno (though she also nods to American folk and country in “君と淋しい風になる,” before submerging us in another particularly dramatic bath of strings). I suspect she was an Ennio Morricone fan as well.
Interestingly, at several points throughout the record songs cut off abruptly and are followed by snippets of what I assume are field recordings–the flapping of a bird’s wings, or rushing water. It’s a motif that appears on her other records, too, and I’d imagine it’s a textural nod to her interest in baroque folk and pastorality. This is a high drama and high reward record, and feels peak autumnal to me, so I hope you enjoy it.
Please enjoy this Halloween special of Getting Warmer for NTS Radio. Featuring overtones, appalachian folk, Tibetan chant, a Delia Derbyshire side project, baroque psych, Kwaïdan, Throbbing Gristle, and lots more. You can download an mp3 version here.
Just a note that there are some things in here that are startling and disturbing, or at least I think so, so if you don’t like listening to scary things I would suggest giving this one a pass.
Tracklist:
1. Buffy Sainte-Marie – Poppies
2. David Hykes & The Harmonic Choir – Gravity Waves
3. Dorothy Ashby – The Moving Finger (excerpt)
4. White Noise – Love Without Sound
5. Karen James – Ghost Lover
6. Throbbing Gristle – Hamburger Lady
7. Ghedalia Tazartès – Une Voix S’en Va
8. Syd Barrett – Golden Hair
9. Monks of the Monastery of Gyütö – Sangwa Düpa (excerpt)
10. Geinoh Yamashirogumi – Osorezan (excerpt)
11. Tōru Takemitsu – II. Yuki (The Woman of the Snow)
12. Anna Homler & Steve Moshier – Sirens (excerpt)
13. Lead Belly – In The Pines
14. The Caretaker – My Heart Will Stop In Joy
15. Dead Can Dance – Wilderness
16. Dorothy Carter – Along The River
17. Jean Ritchie – The Unquiet Grave
Trained as a jazz pianist since childhood, Akiko Yano has gone on to establish herself as an extraordinarily singular and iconic songwriter, singer, pianist, and performer. Her 1976 debut record, Japanese Girl, was shocking to listeners accustomed to the wispy, subdued sounds of Japanese idol pop, incorporating her sense of humor, unrestrained joy, and technical skill as a pianist and improvisor. She went on to collaborate extensively with Yellow Magic Orchestra and Ryuichi Sakamoto, touring with YMO as a keyboardist in the early 80s. While making her own highly idiosyncratic and genre-bending records, Yano collaborated with Pat Metheny, Lyle Mays, Little Feat, Rei Harakami, Japan, David Sylvian, Thomas Dolby, Kenji Omura, Anthony Jackson, and many others, while also composing songs for Rajie, Manna, Kimiko Kasai, Chiemi Manabe, and many memorable commercial music scores. Today she has released 27 full length records and still performs regularly in New York City, where she lives. One of her most celebrated early works, Tadaima, is forthcoming as a reissue from Wewantsounds, marking the first in a series of reissues of Yano’s cult-following favorites. It’s available for preorder here, and tickets for her upcoming New York show with Seiho are available here.
Hello, Yano-san? This is Patrick. I’m so happy to be speaking with you today. How are you?
I’m good, thank you.
Great. Let’s get right to it! Since Tadaima is getting reissued, I’m curious about your impressions of it now. Looking back on it, what do you think you were trying to do with this album?
That’s a good question. It was released in 1981, right after I made a kind of hit, “春咲小紅” (Harusaki Kobeni)—which was included on Tadaima—so everyone was expecting a really nice, catchy pop album. But I didn’t want to be like that. I didn’t picture myself as a pop artist. So I did what I wanted. (laughs) In its own way, the sound is still really catchy and pop. I still really love this record, actually.
Yeah—it sounds to me like you were taking a slight turn away from, for example, your previous record ごはんができたよ(Gohan Ga Dekitayo), which had YMO on most of the tracks. Whereas on this one you’re incorporating more styles…
Right.
It’s a little bit more like your earlier albums, but taken in a different direction. Adding new wave, jazz, the children’s poems. I’m really interested in “Rose Garden.” It’s got an Okinawan influence, right? Is that Tsugaru?
Yeah, it’s a mixture of a lot cultures. “Rose Garden” was…I’m trying to remember. I wanted to incorporate Japanese traditional percussion. That’s the main source of the sound. I also added more pop and Japanese festival sounds, like Omatsuri. Kiyohiko Semba plays percussion on the song. He’s real.
You grew up in Aomori—do you think this had a big impact on your musical taste? I know it was an influence on your first album, Japanese Girl.
When I lived in Aomori, I didn’t listen to min’yō—the really traditional Japanese folk music that Aomori is famous for. Back then, I wasn’t interested in it yet. The first time that I appreciated that I grew up in such a musically rich place was right before I made Japanese Girl. So I revisited Aomori musically, and I listened to min’yō a lot. And then I made “津軽ツアー” (Tsugaru Tour), one of the songs I wrote based on the Tsugaru min’yō.
You recorded Tadaima at Sound City in Tokyo, with Sakamoto, Takahashi, Yuji Nakamura on bass, Tsuchiya, and Hideki Matsutake. I’m curious about what the sessions of writing and recording these songs were like. Did it differ from some of your other albums? Was it difficult, or a fun atmosphere?
It was so easy to work with those guys. The bassist, Nakamura-kun, was new to me, but he was very nice, so I decided to tour with him and Tsuchiya-kun, the guitarist. The drummer was Shuichi “Ponta” Murakami. It was a more live-oriented band, and we had fun. It was the biggest tour that I ever had.
What I like about your music is, even on Gohan Ga Dekitayo, which people think of as techno-pop…I just listened to it again, and it really is live. You know, it’s a live sound—everyone’s playing their instruments…it’s kind of disco.
I think playing with YMO cultivated that aspect of it. I didn’t have any experience playing in an even rhythm, which is the basis of the techno-pop. But, since I was 10 or 11 years old, I had been playing jazz, and…what do you call it…
Improvising?
Yeah! Improvising. Improvisation is my passion. It’s my nature. And so, especially Tadaima and Gohan Ga Dekitayo, those records are kind of the basis of this sound and music that I’m doing right now, like Welcome to Jupiter. They’re a mixture of improvisation and a more pop-oriented sound. I still love that mixture.
Yeah, even when you use synthesizers, it feels very organic, I think.
I was into more machines and engineering, operating synthesizers and electronics in the ’80s. (laughs) After the digital synthesizers came out, I gave up.
Yeah, it seems as if you sort of pulled away. I wanted to ask about the song “いらないもん” (Iranaimon). It’s an Onuki Taeko song, and it’s not really characteristic of her style. I’m curious how it came together.
Well, originally it was a very nice ballad. Of course, she’s one of my favorite writers. She’s amazing. (laughing) I was thinking about a more radical way to do it, so it would differ from a more typical Onuki Taeko song. It ended up being one of the most avant-garde things I did.
I love how intentional that move was. I know you’ve interpreted other Onuki songs, like “海と少年” (Umi to Shonen) and “Oh Dad” you did on Elephant Hotel. And you also have a new single with her?
Yes. I sing with her in an authentic way. (laughs) We’ve known each other since our late teens.
I want to ask a little more about “春咲小紅” (Harusaki Kobeni). It’s this joyous, energetic song with strings and bubbly textures. You’re a jazz musician and improviser, so I’m wondering, when you do these really catchy pop songs…I have the sheet music to the song, so I recreated it on my computer and I was listening to the chords under the melody. And to me, there are really interesting tensions with the melody. Are there ways that you sneak jazz and improv into these pop songs? Because to me, compositionally, they don’t sound like typical pop songs.
Hmm…interesting. When it comes to “Harusaki Kobeni,” I was thinking only about the commercial aspect of it, since it was a lipstick commercial.
Oh, so they asked you before you wrote the song?
Oh yeah! The words came first—they were written by Shigesato Itoi. Then I wrote the song. I remember now. It was a competition with other artists, and I think I won. (laughs) Back then, writing a commercial was one of the most effective ways to get people’s attention.
Right, you have a bunch of commercial music songs. Some of them were chosen after they were released, right? Like “ラーメンたべたい” (Ramen Tabetai).
Right, Myojo Foods used my song. To be honest with you, I really enjoy writing commercial songs. And it was well-paid. (laughs) Often they would give me a lot of creative freedom, so I really enjoyed it.
To me they fit in with your other music, too, and it seems like you usually included the songs on your albums. I was curious about this one song “Isetan-tan” from Go Girl. I know there was an advertisement a few years ago where you redid the song. Did they ask you to redo it?
No. I just did it for myself. Isetan department store is one of my favorites, and was also my family’s favorite department store. I was practically raised in Isetan. (laughing) Actually, I wrote two songs for Isetan—the other one is “Isetan-tan-tan!” I’m a devoted customer.
Around this time, you were also writing some great songs for other artists. You wrote “みどりの声” (Midori no Koe) for Rajie, and “Gotanda” for Manna.
Oh my god, how do you know these songs?
Because…I’m definitely a music nerd.
Yeah, you’re officially a nerd! (laughs) Oh my god, oh my god.
That’s why I was asked to do the interview, because they know I’m a nerd about this stuff. You did some songs for some pop idols too, like Hiromi Go, Tsukasa Ito, Seiko Matsuda. They’re always interesting artists. How did these songwriting spots come about? Did you like writing for other people?
I always enjoyed it, yes, but it was never my idea—they would always come to me. Maybe it was because they wanted something out of the ordinary.
Ah, I see. To me, they seem like they could have been your own songs. Rajie, Manna, those are some of my favorite albums. The Rajie track is so cool.
Really? I’m glad to hear that. And also…oh my goodness. In the ’80s my children were still young. My daughter was born in 1980, so I was really busy raising children and taking care of house chores. I couldn’t go out and tour. Being able to work from home was the most convenient, so writing songs for others worked out well.
So, during the late ’80s, during Japan’s bubble era, you’re releasing albums like 峠のわが家(Touge no Wagaya), Welcome Back, Love Life, and you start exploring this jazzier, airy pop-rock sound. And even before you moved to New York, you had been working with New York musicians like Anthony Jackson, Pat Metheny, Charlie Haden. Other people were going in a new direction, creating more highly produced, mechanical, dance-oriented music. I wonder, was your music reflecting or rejecting this bubble era in Japan? Were you turning away from it?
Hmm. I never thought about the connection between economic events and my music. (laughs) But as I mentioned, I was spending more time with my family and in ’86 and ’87. I took a year and a half off of music to focus on my family. During that time I was just a music fan, a music listener. So I listened to what I wanted to hear, and it was jazz. When I started making music again, I decided to follow my nature, and Welcome Back is one of the results.
Do you think your approach to songwriting changed a little?
The approach to songwriting was the same, but I think the sound was more weighed on improvisation.
I really like a lot of your ’90s music. It sounds really open and deep to me. I think these people you chose to work with, like Anthony Jackson, Pat Metheny—they’re not just great at their instruments; they also have a unique character, a unique voice.
Yeah, and I really appreciated that they agreed to play with me! Eventually, you know, they became my life-long friends.
Image courtesy of Midi Inc.
I wanted to ask a little about a frequent collaborator of yours, Haruomi Hosono. I know you worked together in the ’70s, and it seems that you reconnected with him on Reverb in 2002. And you’ve covered many of his songs, like his Happy End songs on Granola. What about his music speaks to you?
I only can say that his music is his music. It’s a mixture of so many cultural and musical references. But once he sings his songs, it becomes his music. He’s the originator of his own sound, and his voice is so expressive.
You both have an appreciation for different types of folk music, and you both have this playful quality. A quirkiness. Is that true, do you think?
Well, both of us love old songs. I think he can be more of a critic of those ’30s, ’40s, ’50s songs. He knows so much about it. So when we play together, we pick something from that era. A lot of the time it’ll be music that I don’t know, but what he picks is always so interesting and so funny, so good. I love his taste.
I know you two did the Akiko Yano and Tin Pan Alley Satogaeru live shows, and I think I read in an interview with Hosono that he was worried about being able to keep up with you during the show.
Well, sometimes he fools himself, like “I’m too old to play,” things like that. But of course it’s not true. Especially right now, he’s really up and running.
He definitely is. So, let’s see…in the United States, and I think everywhere outside Japan, ’70s and ’80s Japanese music has become somewhat of a phenomenon in the past decade, maybe thanks to YouTube. It’s become this inspiration for musicians and graphic artists—they had no idea this world of music existed. Even in Brooklyn, there’s this Japanese record store called Face Records. It’s a store in Japan, but they opened a shop this year in Brooklyn. They have your records; I see them on the wall.
Really? Wow.
Yeah, it’s crazy. Have you felt this resurgence of interest in your music?
Um, I think I’m kind of an object of interest. But, more and more, when I play in New York City, I see more and more American people coming in to check out my music. So, that’s an interesting tide to me.
Part of of the reason I’m asking is because on your latest albums, 飛ばしていくよ(Tobashite Iku Yo) and Welcome to Jupiter, you started working with these electronic producers, like Seiho, tofubeats, Azumi Hitomi. It seems like they’re inspired by the music you were making in the ’80s. I’m curious if more techno producers are contacting you.
Actually, I requested them.Working with these younger, more techno-oriented musicians was the idea of one of my staff. And Rei Harakami was my—is my buddy.
Yeah, making music with him was so special. But he’s gone, and I had kind of given up playing with techno musicians. But these younger musicians are so eager to make new music, and I really love their attitude. I really enjoyed all of them.
This show you’re doing with Seiho—you two did a remake of “Tong Poo” together. Are you going to revisit more of your old songs with him?
Yeah, I think we’re going to do a couple of old songs. We’re going to talk about it this weekend, actually. (laughs)
I’m curious about your interest in synthesizers and sound design in general. Your very first song on Japanese Girl “気球にのって” (Kikyu ni Notte) features a very prominent, expressive Arp synthesizer line. And then on Welcome to Jupiter, there’s “モスラの歌” (Mosura no Uta) and “颱風” (Typhoon) where you have these synth textures—and then you worked with Harakami, Makoto Yano, Sakamoto, Jeff Bova—musicians who are known for their sound design. Do you think synthesizers and sound design are an important element of your music?
I do. Right now, I don’t have much time to develop or research these machines, or how I could make my own music with those machines. But I always have a sound vision in my head. I never lose it. All I need is the right person to help me to make those sounds in my head real.
I see. So you describe the sounds you’re after?
Yes. Right now, I have a really good guy, Hideyuki Fukasawa, in Tokyo. I really enjoy working with him.
Is he on any of your recent albums? Is he on Welcome to Jupiter?
Yes. Also—this is kind of a sneak preview, but I recently got to know Reed Hays. He’s an amazing synthesizer player and producer. He released two albums, and he works with his classmate. Their band’s name is Reed & Caroline, and they’re making records under Vince Clarke, from Erasure. I think you’ll like it.
What else has been inspiring you lately, musically?
I still love old American root music. I really enjoy the new songs of Boz Scaggs. The blues.
I haven’t heard his very latest, but I’ve heard some of his recent records, and they’re very cool. I like his old stuff too, a lot. I know your album Akiko has a lot of that sort of roots sound. T Bone Burnett. Did you listen to the new Jon Batiste? His new album is produced by T Bone.
Really?
Yeah. You might like it. Something else I wanted to ask about is how some of the last songs on your albums, like “Rose Garden,” “てぃんさぐぬ花” (Chinsagu no Hana), “Little Girl, Giant Heart,” “おおきいあい” (Ookii Ai)—they give a feeling of courage and hope, like a marching song. They seem to be inspiration to go out and face the world. Do you like to end albums on an uplifting note?
Mmm. That’s something I’ve been thinking about over the past few years. I’ve been making music that’s exactly what I want to make, what I want to hear. But slowly I’ve been realizing, “Wait a minute, I need an audience, and the reason I’m here is that there’s always someone listening to my music.” So I’m becoming more focused on the audience—sometimes I even picture myself as an audience. I really enjoy, for example, blues, and other kinds of depressing music, dark sounds; but I can’t listen to them all the time. Eventually, we need to be encouraged by music. Music that uplifts you is really powerful.
That’s what I like about your albums—they’re never the same all the way through. They’re different styles, different genres. I never get bored. It’s unnatural to listen to only happy songs.
Yeah. It’s like eating a variety of foods—music is the same.
OK, well, I think we can wrap this up. I just want to thank you so much for speaking with me.
Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate that you’ve been a longtime fan of my music.
It’s easy to be. You have so much. It was a bit scary trying to cover it all. I didn’t cover it all, but you know, little parts. Thank you, Yano-san. I’m looking forward to seeing you at your show next month.
———————————————
Thanks to Akiko Yano, Patrick South, Matt Robin, and Wewantsounds for
facilitating this interview. Text has been condensed and edited for clarity.
This is a mix of mostly Spanish, Brazilian, and American orchestral pop music, largely from the 60s–cinematic songs that you would want to listen to while driving along a sunny coastline. It also includes some recent field recordings that I did on the Maltese coast, sounds of the mountains in the outskirts of Barcelona, inside the Barcelona subway, the jungles in Puerto Rico, and the mangroves of southern Florida.
Tracklist:
1. Waves in Dwejra Bay at the collapsed Azure Window, Gozo Island, Malta. June sunset 2018
2. Antonio González “El Pescaílla” – Chica de Ipanema
3. Antón García Abril – Sor Citroën
4. Breakwater in l’Escala, Spain. July afternoon 2018
5. Los Stop – El Turista 1.999.999
6. Augusto Algueró – Será El Amor
7. Frogs and a fountain in the Abbey of Montserrat, Spain. July night 2018
8. Henry Mancini – Party Poop
9. Canoeing in the mangroves, outskirts of Hobe Sound, Florida. August evening 2018
10. Papa Topo – Milano
11. Evinha – Estorinha
12. Alfonso Santisteban – Brincadeira
13. Crickets in a night hike by Collserola mountains just before raining, outskirts of Barcelona. July night 2018
14. Elsa Baeza – Dubeque Dublin
15. Antón García Abril – El Turismo Es Un Gran Invento
16. Taking the subway to rehearsal, Barcelona. July evening 2018
17. Alfonso Santisteban – Manías de María
18. Flipper’s Guitar – Coffee-Milk Crazy
19. Wildlife in Toro Negro rainforest, Puerto Rico. August night 2018
20. Me singing a vocal harmony
21. Le Mans – H.E.L.L.O.
22. Cicadas in Devil’s Millhopper, Gainesville, Florida; and weather forecast in Spain. August evening 2018
23. Marcos Valle – Êle E Ela
24. Stereolab – Miss Modular
25. ユキとヒデ (Yuki & Hide) – 白い波 (White Waves)
26. Los Mismos – Puente A Mallorca
A rare example of a Japanese jazz-fusion record that’s aged well. Kimiko Kasai is a jazz chanteuse and songwriter extraordinaire who’s worked with the likes of Stan Getz, Oliver Nelson, and Herbie Hancock (this record is killer if you’re into that sort of thing). Unlike a lot of Tokyo Special‘s contemporaries, the record isn’t front-loaded with single-worthy tracks but instead burns slowly and evenly, from its unhurried but brutally hooky start (“バイブレイション [Love Celebration],” written by Tatsuro Yamashita) to its rolling piano-jam finish (“待ってて [Laidback Mad Or Mellow],” written by Akiko Yano).
Kimiko’s vocals are terrific here, sometimes breathy and pillowy and elsewhere powerful and with admirable range. Even the obligatory slow jams are tastefully produced and never veer into cloying territory–I love “木もれ陽 (Sequoia Forest)” for its heady, misty backing harmonies, judicious use of chimes, and woodblocks that mimic birds and insects. Excitingly, you can hear the pre-city pop and AOR influences taking shape. If you don’t like smooth jazz fusion, I can’t help you. If you do, please step inside.
My newest episode of Getting Warmer for NTS Radio is a two hour long late summer ambient special. Long, lazy instrumentals with river sounds, crickets, cicadas, and bees. Ideal for heavy, thick weather, and for mid-day napping in it. If anyone remembers the two hour mix I made for LYL Radio awhile back, this feels like the more summery counterpart to it. You can download an mp3 version here.
Tracklist:
1. Hiroshi Yoshimura – Time After Time
2. David Casper – Green Anthem
3. Masahiro Sugaya – Straight Line Floating In The Sky
4. Roedelius – Wenn Der Südwind Weht
5. Yutaka Hirose – In The Afternoon
6. Inoyama Land – Glass Chaim
7. Haruomi Hosono – Wakamurasaki
8. Gabriel Yared – Un Coucher De Soleil Acchroche Dans Les Arbres
9. Maurice Ravel – Miroirs: III. Une Barque Sur L’ocean (Paul Crossley)
10. CV & JAB – Hot Tub
11. Virginia Astley – Summer Of Their Dreams
12. Satoshi Ashikawa – Still Park Ensemble (excerpt)
13. Ernest Hood – August Haze
14. Harold Budd & Brian Eno – A Stream With Bright Fish
15. Alice Damon – Waterfall Winds
16. Jansen / Barbieri – The Way The Light Falls
17. Yoshio Ojima – Mensis
18. Toshifumi Hinata – End Of The Summer
19. Carl Stone – Banteay Srey
20. Gervay Briot – Science
Classic favorite. A singer, actress, model, and TV personality, Susan (Suzan Nozaki) was born in Japan to a Japanese mother and a French-American father, and as a teenager worked widely in commercials, radio, theater, and voiceover. This was the first of two records she released on Sony with a dream team: production, arrangement, and drums by Yukihiro Takahashi, co-production and guitar by Kenji Ohmura, programing by Hideki Matsutake, bass by Haruomi Hosono, keyboards by Ryuichi Sakamoto, cover photo by Masayoshi Sukita, etc.
It is, as you might imagine from its context, a raucous, scronky, brilliant pop record. The 60’s referentiality shows up not just in the title track, a Lovin’ Spoonful cover, but also in the surf and garage rock sensibility of the songwriting (“24,000回のキッス,” “Dream Of You”) and the proclivity towards psychy vocal processing–though of course the overall texture and programming speak very loudly to 1980. The record’s best moments evidence both decades simultaneously: “Ah! Soka” flits between dry electro synth verses and choruses of reverb-soaked psychy guitar pop. My favorite is closer “Screamer,” with a very YMO churning and whirring percussive backbone underneath warped, spacious vocal layering–at almost seven minutes long, by the time it’s over I always wish it would keep rolling for a few more minutes. Still, nothing ever feels gimmicky or formulaic–there are too many thoughtful details for that. I hope you love this as much as I do!
Carl Stone is one of the pioneers of live computer music. He studied composition at CalArts with Morton Subotnick and James Tenney and has composed electro-acoustic music almost exclusively since 1972. He was among the vanguard of artists incorporating turntables, early digital samplers, and personal computers into live electronic music composition. An adopter of the Max programming language while it was still in its earliest development at the IRCAM research center, Stone continues to use it as his primary instrument, both solo and in collaboration with other improvisers. In addition to his work as a composer, Stone served as Music Director of KPFK-FM in Los Angeles from 1978-1981, director of Meet the Composer California from 1981-1997, and President of the American Music Center from 1992-1995. He is currently a faculty member of the Department of Media Engineering at Chukyo University in Japan. His most recent retrospective compilation, Electronic Music from the Eighties and Nineties, is out now on Unseen Worlds and can be purchased here.
CS: It’s coming up on seventeen years. I’ve been coming to Japan since the 80’s to work on projects, and in the spring of 2001 I got a six month residency at IAMAS, a media art institution in the middle of the country. While I was there I was offered a job as a professor at a university, so I kind of never went back to the US.
JAB: So you live in Tokyo–what are you teaching there?
CS: Well, the job that I was offered in 2001 actually wasn’t at a music school or even an art school. I’m was in the media department of the School of Information Science, which is now a straight ahead School of Engineering. I’m teaching things like music technology, programming for music, sound design, and acoustic aesthetics. I’ve recently started guest lecturing at Tokyo University, where I teach a course on music technology, and it’s also geared towards programmers and people in the sciences than towards artists.
JAB: You’re mainly working in Max/MSP now, right?
CS: Yes. I don’t know a lot of other programming languages. Max/MSP is one that I specialize in. (laughing) I’m a monoglot.
photo by Tomohiro Ueshiba
JAB: Have you always worked with emerging technologies in your music, or was there a period before you started using computers where you were like, playing a saxophone?
CS: I studied piano from the age of five, but I wasn’t very good and didn’t like practicing, so it didn’t go that far. But then in junior high and high school I played in some bands. I played with the musician Z’EV who you may have heard of—he sadly passed away recently. He played drums, I played keyboards, and we had a bass player by the name of James Stewart. The three of us were a power trio: organ, bass, and drums. No vocals. I played washboard and drums in a jug band, so I have an instrumental background, but I switched to using synthesizers when I first started college in 1969. After that I started performing with turntables, which wasn’t necessarily cutting edge technology, since turntables had been around for quite awhile, but people weren’t really using them in live performance in those days. When the personal computer came along and became smaller and practical, I started using that in the 80’s.
CV: And you studied at CalArts?
CS: Yes, that’s right. My teacher was Morton Subotnick.
CV: I read that while you were there, you started working with samples when you had a job transferring LPs to cassette.
CS: Yes! (laughing) Using found music was a starting point. I wasn’t sampling while I was doing that, I was just fulfilling a job backing up LP records. But it gave me the spirit of the idea, because I was noticing these sound collisions and combinations. I would have two or three different turntables playing all at once while I was doing these backups, so I noticed that it was interesting and I got the idea to try different combinations in my own music, to make new contexts for familiar music or unfamiliar music. That’s what got me off the launching pad, even though I wasn’t really composing at the time–I was just doing my job.
CV: Did you ever use any of the material from the job in your music?
CS: Well, there were a few of those records which I had never heard before that stuck with me and they do end up showing up in later works. For example, there was a great release of music from Burundi and I really fell in love with that album. The sample that I used from that album actually shows up as a starting point for my piece called “Banteay Srey,” which I wrote 15 years later and is part of the release that’s coming out on Unseen Worlds pretty soon.
JAB: That’s amazing. That’s the first piece on the record, I think? It’s a vocal sample?
CS: Yes.
CV: We both do a lot of sampling as well, so listening to the upcoming release I was really struck by how contemporary and relevant it sounds. The technology hasn’t changed all that much.
CS: I think that the technology has changed and evolved in ways that makes a lot of things easier to do, but in those days with much more limited technology I needed to try to find creative solutions for what I was interested in doing. I’m glad that it still sounds fresh and new. The technology has evolved, but what I’m trying to do and say with my music has remained more or less the same.
CV: Have you ever had a chance to reach out to any of the artists who made the recordings that you’ve been using over the years?
CS: Yes. Not in every case, but in some cases I have. I wish I knew where I could find the little girl from Burundi, but that recording goes back to the 60s and she’s probably not a little girl anymore.
JAB: How recognizable is that sample? I’ve never heard the original, so I don’t know if it’s distorted beyond recognition.
CS: I don’t know. I like the ambiguity: it sounds vocal, but you can’t be 100% sure that it’s a vocal sample. It’s been through a lot, it’s been slowed down, looped, it’s been subjected to a certain amount of computer treatment. I’m not sure that if you heard the original you’d say “Oh, that’s it!”
CV: I feel like the beauty of sampling is that you get to put it through your own apparatus, with your own choices and particular aesthetics, and you become a filter of sorts. I love what we’ve heard from the catalogue. I’m wondering if you generate a lot of material and are really picky about what gets released, or if you work more minimally and deliberately.
CS: I have a lot of unreleased material that I’d like to get out there. I seem to have a certain psychological resistance to releasing my current work. When I release something, I know it gets fixed in people’s minds and memories, and I’m more comfortable doing that with music that’s 10 or 20 years old, which I’ve already moved beyond. For some reason—and I’m not sure it’s a really good reason—I’m less inclined to release the music that I’m working on right now, because I don’t want to fix it in people’s minds. I’d rather perform it live. On the other hand, I do sort of regret that people are maybe becoming more familiar with my older work and not really with my contemporary work, so I should probably put more effort towards releasing all of it.
JAB: “Mae Yao” & “Sonali” (featured on the new collection) are some of the first pieces of music you released, right? How does it feel to look back on those old compositions from where you are now?
CS: Chronologically, “Woo Lae Oak” is the first, from 1981. “Mae Yao” is from 1984, “Sonali” is from 1987, and “Banteay Srey” is from the beginning of the nineties. It’s been a nice experience for me to revisit these older recordings, contemplate how they fit in with what I am doing these days, and to be able to share them with an audience. I’m really grateful to Unseen Worlds for their continued support in releasing these tracks, along with their earlier release of my pieces from the seventies and eighties.
CV: Do you keep things archived and stored in categories or folders, so you remember what’s what?
CS: Well, first a piece will get a working title, which describes the process I was using or the sample I was using, or something like that. Eventually it will get titled using my silly system.
CV: We heard you use restaurants you like as titles.
CS: Yeah, I don’t really like coming up with titles that mean something or describe the piece or are any kind of poetic reference to the music, so I have a random system in which I pull titles from a list, and that serves as a way of identifying it. The list happens to be a list of restaurants that I enjoy. A lot of the restaurant names are in a language that’s foreign to me, so it moves the titles further away from meaning and description, and they become more abstract. “Banteay Srey” is the name of a Cambodian restaurant. I don’t even know what it means in Khmer.
JAB: (laughing) Do you go to a lot of restaurants? Are you an exploratory eater?
CS: I am an exploratory eater. I think that’s a better description than a “foodie.” I don’t really like the term “foodie” that much.
JAB: (laughing) Neither do I.
CS: I do eat out a lot, and I do like to eat new cuisines. I’m relatively fearless in terms of what I’ll eat. I recently went to an eel restaurant here in Tokyo and once of the things they serve was the actual bones, the spine of the eels deep fried and eaten like bar snacks.
CV: Was that restaurant added to your list?
CS: It hasn’t been yet, but it probably will be. The problem is that with my early pieces is that a lot of those restaurants have gone out of business or aren’t that good anymore. People will sometimes go to a restaurant that I named a piece after and say, “Hey, Carl, I went there and it was lousy.” But if the song is from ten years ago and the chef is gone…
JAB: All the same, I look forward to a Carl Stone song titles culinary tour. We played a few shows in Japan awhile back–one at a gallery in Kyoto and a few in Tokyo, including one in a temple. A good friend of ours helped us set it up–Chihei Hatakeyama.
CS: Oh, yeah. We’ve played a couple shows together. Where did you play in Tokyo?
JAB: We played at a Buddhist temple called Ennoji, and then we played at a small jazz club called Velvet Sun.
CS: Yeah, I’ve played there. With Chihei, actually!
JAB: We also did a show on Dommune Radio, which you’re probably familiar with. It was streaming live, and we met Ukawa.
CS: (laughing) Yeah, a character.
JAB: I read that you did a performance with Wolfgang Georgsdorf, and that he was playing a smeller organ.
CS: That’s right. He invented this keyboard that triggers aromas instead of notes. That kind of thing has been done before, and usually what happens is that you pump in a smell, and then another smell, and then another smell, and they all mix together until you end up with a big mess, but what’s interesting about his is that he worked with an aroma technologist and an engineer to work it out so that he could not only mix smells as he wanted but also replace smells with other smells. He has a great palate of aromas, and they’re not all nice smells like roses or honey. He had things like wet dogs, rotting leaves, sweat, horses, and mushrooms. He would mix them the way a painter would mix paints on a canvas, or the way a composer writing a symphony might orchestrate. It was really interesting to work together, first in his atelier out in the countryside and then in Berlin, where we presented in a church. The performance was about an hour long and the audience listened almost in the dark. I was using a lot of environmental sounds mixed in with electronic sounds. I think it was a really nice experience for the audience.
JAB: Did you prepare specific smell and sound combinations beforehand?
CS: Yes. We had a scenario worked out in advance, so there was a certain amount of improvisation, but he worked pretty specifically, at least with the flow of the smells. He asked me to keep that in mind for my musical accompaniment.
JAB: I love the idea of improvising with someone playing a smell organ, as if you’re a jazz trio but one of the band members is pumping in the smell of manure, and you react to that with sound.
CS: Yeah. Some of the smells he had were like wet earth.
CV & JAB: Aaaaaah.
CS: Because that has a smell, right? And the smell of cut wood. A lot of outdoor smells that we kind of take for granted as we pass them by.
JAB: Smell is such a strong trigger for memory…
CS: Very strong. I think it’s the strongest trigger, actually, more than sight or sound.
CV: It’s nice when it’s connected to a performance, so that particular memory comes shooting back if you happen across the smell. I was curious how often you find yourself recording. I’m sure it depends, but is it on a very regular basis? Do you have to be in a certain mood?
CS: A lot of times I’ll be working in my studio and then something interesting happens, so I’ll just fire the engines and start the recorder. Then sometimes I’ve allocated specific hours for recording, usually when I’m working with another artist. I’ve got various artists that I work with and we’ll block out times for recording sessions in the hopes of making a record. In terms of my own work, I usually don’t plan to record, unless I’m working on a very specific predetermined project, like a soundtrack. I’ll usually just be working, and then if it gets interesting I’ll record it. It’s kind of my process, to do it that way.
JAB: A lot of your earlier works are kind of very much process oriented—for example it’ll start with an idea that’s a sample, and then it’s the sample twice, and then multiplied by four, and then by eight. I’m curious how often you find that you’ll start with an idea like that and then follow through with it completely, versus having some flexibility for the process to shape the idea. Are you strict with sticking to the concept of a piece, or do you leave time to play with it while you’re developing it?
CS: That’s a very good question. Actually, it’s sort of both. Usually I start with what you could describe as a kind of play process, where I’m just playing around, maybe with a sample or with an idea for a process itself, and I don’t have any particular goal in mind. I’m just exploring what’s possible and having fun, and then at some point an idea will suggest itself—how to take this and shape it and make it into a finished composition, and where does it fit in with other material? Is this one sample or one process enough for an entire piece, or is it just one element of a larger piece? Who knows? The answers will emerge through the course of this play. I’ll try plugging in different samples and seeing what the results are. The only problem with this working method is when I’m on a deadline, maybe working on a film soundtrack where they give you a request for a certain emotional feeling and a certain duration. But because I don’t always know where I’m going to end up at the end of my process it’s hard to fulfill those kinds of requests–which is maybe why I don’t do many soundtracks.
Tower Records, Shinjuku, Tokyo, ca. 1991
JAB: Do you find the technology shapes the idea as you’re working with it? Or, another way of asking this might be, do you think your music is inherently tied to the technology that you’re using?
CS: That’s also a good question. I think the answer is that my work depends on technology to a great extent because I’m trying to work with things that aren’t in the realm of human performance, and aren’t necessarily possible for humans—I’m interested in things that are slower or faster or higher or lower or broader than is humanly possible to perform. In that sense I rely on technology to achieve those things. It’s not technology driven in the sense that when the technology changes or becomes obsolete, I go out of business—it just means that I adapt my process to whatever is available. So I don’t think the technology is driving me, so much as enabling me.
CV: Is there anything else you’d like to add, Carl?
CS: Hmm, you’ve asked some good questions. I hear that one of you is going to Belgium soon?
CV: Yeah, I live in Brussels. I go back and forth, but I’ve been there for about fourteen years. Are you going to be in Belgium?
CS: Yeah, I’m playing at a festival–not in Brussels, but in a small town. You know Meakusma Festival?
CV: Yeah–we’re playing! We’re playing two sets, one with our collaborative project (CV & JAB) and one as my solo project, where we’ll play synthesizers together with a string ensemble.
CS: That’s great! I have a unit called Realistic Monk with a Japanese sound artist who lives in Germany, Miki Yui–we’re playing September 9th. I’ll see you there! We have an album that’s coming out on Meakusma.
CV: Oh cool, they’re doing such great work. John played there last year so we can tell you it’s a wonderful festival. It’s in the countryside, but a lot of people come out from all over Europe. There’s a lot of good music. Well, it was really nice to speak with you, Carl–I really relate to a lot of your processes.
CS: I’m glad to hear that, and I’ll have to look into your music and hear what you guys are up to. Sounds like we have some mutual concerns!
