Takemitsu’s recent works have been marked by the use of traditional Japanese instruments as in the case of Eclypse for the Shakuhachi and Koto, or the music in the film, Kwaidan (Ghost Stories), which includes extremely original concepts. Here again, the motive of composition seems to seek through these instruments special effects which otherwise could not be obtained. And it is true that he has until now been so successful that one could not expect more. It seems as if it were aimed at producing an interminable dynamic drama from the succession of the momentary sounds from the hand and the mouth of the musician. This is the quality very akin to that which realizes infinite freedom at the very moment of heightened tension as in the case of Japanese calligraphy and the tea ceremony.
Born in Tokyo, Takemitsu first became interested in western classical music around the time of World War II. He heard western music on American military radio while recuperating from a long illness. He also listened to jazz from his father’s ample collection.
Takemitsu was largely self-taught in music. He was greatly influenced by French music, and in particular that of Claude Debussy and Olivier Messiaen. In 1951 he founded the Jikken Kobo, a group which introduced many contemporary western composers to Japanese audiences.
Takemitsu at first had little interest in traditional Japanese music, but later incorporated Japanese instruments such as the shakuhachi (a kind of bamboo flute) into the orchestra. November Steps (1967), a work for shakuhachi and biwa (a kind of Japanese lute) solo and orchestra was the first piece to combine instruments from east and west. In an Autumn Garden (1973-79) is written for the kind of orchestra that would have played gagaku (traditional Japanese court music). Works such as Eclipse, (1966) for shakuhachi and biwa, Voyage (1973), for three biwas should also been mentioned as works that are decidedly derived from traditional genres.
Takemitsu first came to wide attention when his Requiem for string orchestra (1957) was accidentally heard and praised by Igor Stravinsky in 1959. (Some Japanese people wanted Igor Stravinsky to hear some tape recorded music by Japanese composers and put in the wrong side of the tape; when they tried to take it out, Stravinsky didn’t let them.) Stravinsky went on to champion Takemitsu’s work.
During his career, Takemitsu composed music for motion pictures, including scores for directors Hiroshi Teshigahara, Akira Kurosawa, Masaki Kobayashi, and Shohei Imamura.
Takemitsu died in Tokyo on February 20, 1996
Commissioned in 1968 by RCA Records, this work is for piano and orchestra with an expanded percussion section with unusual methods of articulation: the spine of a comb is run across a suspended cymbal, a double-bass bow used on three suspended cymbals, and so on. All three definitions of the title constitute the poetic meaning of this music – a group of stars, a constellation; crystallized minerals showing a starlike luminous figure in transmitted or reflected light; and the three asterisks placed before a passage to direct attention to it. The music is characterised by lovely crystalline textures from glockenspiel, harp, metallic percussion and the piano. Impressionistic chords from the high strings, and Messiaen-like brass chords provide celestial imagery. Sliding tones from plucked strings and lower brass suggest more earthiness. A brief solo statement from the piano is followed by breaking sounds (light bells, ratchets, rattles) from the percussion suggest the punctuation nature of the title. Toward the end, the music enters a quasi-random chaotic crescendo of uncoordinated cycling motifs and sizzling cymbals and gongs. Suddenly, the sound is suspended and a quiet transparent texture emerges, then silence, and a single final note from the piano. A lovely, brief, poetic vision.
Koenji Hyakkei’s music sometimes is a little like Magma, but I like it.
Secondo me il video c’entra come i cavoli a merenda, ma Koenji Hyakkei (高円寺百景) a volte, come in questo pezzo, mi piacciono parecchio.
Sono un po’ (tanto) Magma (chi si ricorda i francesi di Christian Vander?), ma la complessità, il superamento del solito schema ritornello-inciso e l’energia rendono questo brano superiore alla media.
Certo che la faccenda mi ricorda un po’ Shostakovich, quando diceva che la musica russa aveva un grande futuro dietro di sé…
