Review Summary: 1952 - 2023
Ryuichi Sakamoto was a legend among legends. Along with him, the world has lost a vital shred of its collective imagination, thoughtfulness and inquisitive eye for detail. From his rise to fame as part of the pioneering synthpop trio Yellow Magic Orchestra, to his turn opposite David Bowie on-screen in
Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence, to his Oscar and Grammy sweep for
The Last Emperor alongside David Byrne and Cong Su, to a lauded, ever fascinating solo career that extends from the late ‘70s up until his deathbed, the body of work he leaves us with is rivalled by few. Thanks to the sheer versatility of his creative talents, it’s a struggle to envision any single instalment from said body as an ideal way to commemorate him. Many will turn to the reflections on mortality that he presented with such unflinching clarity on
async or this year’s
12, both profound works that I personally do not feel prepared to face at present. Others will draw on his defining outings with Yellow Magic Orchestra or his acclaimed suite of film themes
1996 - both cogent showcases of greatness, but neither fully representative to me of what makes his loss sting so keenly.
To this end,
Thousand Knives Of is perhaps the most enduring example of Sakamoto's creative spirit in all its force and freshness, and the album of his that I feel most compelled to turn to in response to his loss. Dating from 1978, the six songs of this record offer a more complex take on the pentatonic synth earworms that Yellow Magic Orchestra would make their name with on their self-titled release that same year, here presented as progressive electronic mini-opuses. Highlight tracks “Das Neue Japanische Elektronische Volkslied”, “Plastic Bamboo” and the iconic “Thousand Knives” are anchored in phenomenally strong motifs, presented in such a deceptively straightforward fashion that the myriad structural deviancies and melodic modulations Sakamoto threads through their progressions will likely strike the first-time listener as little more than par for the course. In spite of his gloriously intricate synthesiser arrangements, there is practically never a sense of Sakamoto exploring his technology for its own sake; his performance and production smack of vast confidence as they flesh out a sequence of melodic ideas that would withstand practically any performance style in the right hands (see the rather illustrious performance history “Thousand Knives” in particular went on to have). A sole exception here is the ambient outlier “Island of Woods”, yet is otherwise a perplexing fit for the second-track slot, somewhat frittering the title track’s great momentum away. It intermittently flexes compositional muscle in dense synth onslaughts and is at least incongruous enough to count as intrepid, but it lacks the centre of gravity that acquits its fellows with such remarkable staying power.
The upshot of all this, however, is an outing so buoyant, so personable, so stylish and so sophisticatedly realised that it will not do to call it anything less than timelessly cool - not even in the sense of the hints of deadpan and kitsch that frequently crept into Yellow Magic Orchestra’s work, but in a thoroughly joyous outpouring of wide-eyed adventure and steady-handed expertise that have aged magnificently and will likely continue to inspire any trained composer minded to lay hands on an analog synthesiser for as long as such a thing can draw interest. It blends together the cutting edge of European electronic developments with motifs of distinctly Japanese flair and occasional nods to revolutionary China, evincing Sakamoto’s background in composition and ethnomusicology in fine form – but more than that, this record is so
vitalising, so inventive, so ahead of its time in its form yet in touch with the best of its time in its tone, that I could hardly think of a better testament of a life well lived.
All of which is about the most heartsome prelude I can muster for one final
rest in peace.
