SYMBOL
“This is the religious music of the next millennium, choral female voices echo in and out of Susumu's palette of bells, chimes, and golden drums. He is one of my favorite artists, simply for the risks he takes, always challenging himself with each new project. No album ever sounds alike, but they always sound wonderful.”
Matthew Dear
Matthew Dear
On 2004’s Symbol, he flexed his sampling skills with a deep dive into the classical canon, repurposing music by Vivaldi, Shostakovich, and Mahler.
For Yokota, sampling was not appropriation or even theft but a form of high art. On Symbol, he pushed this approach to the extreme, diving deep into the classical canon and disassembling music from Tchaikovsky and Beethoven, Vivaldi and Debussy, John Cage and Meredith Monk, before reassembling it into new forms. Symbol has a light and floaty quality, and a spirit of play running throughout. Listening, you feel an occasional jolt of recognition, as a familiar melody emerges—a fragment of The Nutcracker Suite, perhaps, or a loop of the piano from Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”—before Yokota deftly folds it back into his song’s fabric. Even the album’s gorgeous cover results from some light-fingered borrowing: it’s a detail from John William Waterhouse’s 1896 painting Hylas And The Nymphs. Perhaps unexpectedly, reveals Yokota’s friend Noda Tsutomu, the primary influence on the record was Moodymann, the Detroit house producer known for his sound collage production style. “Symbol was his attempt to incorporate that approach in his own way,” says Tsutomu. “Not with Black music, but with classical music.”
Louis Pattison
July 2025
The more I dive deeper into music, the more I realise how so much that is present in music seems at odds with the ways it has been categorised and written about.
I also learnt that so many of the categorisations that we might assume have been there for as long as the music itself are actually relatively modern additions.
Musical ‘genre,’ which seemingly underlies the entire foundation of my work as someone who focuses on ‘classical music,’ is actually something I have grown to have more and more of an issue with. These categorisations, like so much of musicological writing and theory (and to some extent music criticism), seems more interested in tying music down rather than helping unlock its essence.
All these thoughts synthesised when I discovered Susumu Yokota (1960-2015) - a Japanese composer that started life as a graphic designer, photographer and even spent a short time working as an economist.
His musical influences are the most varied of any artist I have come across: punk, 80’s dance, traditional Japanese music, classical music, avant-garde music, jazz (the list goes on) and yet this person was able to see the exact moments between all these ‘genres,’ that tied them together.
His 2005 album ‘Symbol’ is the perfect example of this. Yokota uses samples from Tchaikovsky, Debussy, Erik Satie and Meredith Monk and laces them with other styles into this futuristic and yet timeless dreamscape.
His sound dissolves all ideas of ‘genre’ and presents music as an one expanding and infinite tapestry. It makes sense: Yokota’s music practice was deeply informed by his visual one - he was know to describe sound as an ‘infinitely transforming kaleidoscope of light.’ And truly, when you listen to it you will see - it’s almost like this artist had an ability to stand at the end of time, look upon it and dance with all of it.
Daria Challah
July 2026
Original Review in Korean:
Susumu Yokota가 대중에게 익히 알려진 바로는, 일본을 넘어서 세계적으로 2000년대 초를 뒤흔든 하우스 음악의 귀재다. 그러나 그는 『sakura』(1999)를 통해 엠비언트 음악의 역량을 보여준다든지, 『Sound Of Sky』(2002)의 「Sea Blue」와 같이, 인트로 트랙으로 아프리카 퍼커션이나 스피리추얼한 vox들을 사용하여 토속적이고 주술적인 엠비언스를 꾸준히 채택해왔다. 그 중에서도 『Symbol』은 신화적 분위기와 인상주의의 태동을 다시 상기시키면서도, 그가 조금씩 감각적으로 풀어놓던 엠비언스들을 적극적으로 차용한 가장 응집력 높은 음반이다. 이전부터 트랜스나 테크노 등 댄스 음악에서도 영적 차원의 주술성이 강한 메세지들을 숨은 곳곳에서 찾아볼 수 있는데, 『Symbol』에서 그 감각이 전면적으로 정점에 달하는 걸 볼 수 있다. 나는 『Symbol』을 그가 꽤 비전면적으로 해쳐놓던 감각을 집합시켜 온전히 드러낸 음반으로 꼽을 수 있고, 나는 이 음반을 통해 Susumu Yokota가 시사하는 ‘모호성의 가능성’이라는 것에 대해 이야기하고자 한다.
Susumu Yokota는 감각을 그린다. 이것을 내가 첫 문장으로서 강조하는 이유는, 그가 단순히 사운드 설계나 클래식 음악 샘플링에 도가 튼 일렉트로닉 아티스트가 아니라는 점을 분명하게 짚고 넘어가기 위해서다. 내가 그를 부를 수 있는 가장 적확한 말은 ‘콜라주 아티스트’다. 우리는 콜라주 작품을 볼 때, 무어라 해명할 수 없지만 감각적인 데서 한 가지로 수렴하는 강한 이끌림의 순간을 경험한다. 뿔뿔이 흩어져 있는 것들이 한데 모이고, 어긋남 속에서 일관된 감정을 갖게 되는 순간, 그것은 하나의 덩어리가 될 테니까. 나 역시 사진 콜라주를 작업하며 이유가 해명되지 않는 이끌림만으로 이질적이지만 유독 같은 타이밍에 끌리는 사진들을 수집했던 경험이 있다. Susumu Yokota의 콜라주 작업은, 채집한 것들을 작품 속으로 끌어들여 클래식과 전자음악을 병치하면서, 충돌에서 오는 이질성을 감추고 긴장에 가깝게 병존시키는 유기 체계를 만든 일이다.
라벨과 드뷔시, 슈만 등 작품 속에 등장하는 클래식 음악은 Susumu Yokota가 생전에 좋아하던 음악이다. 그것들은 그의 작품으로서 소용 가치를 갖기 이전에, 마치 순수한 마음으로 꾸린 그의 보물상자처럼 느껴진다. 분명 그의 콜라주에 쓰이는 재료들은 모두 채집물이다. 또, 하나의 인용문처럼 사용되고 있지도 않다. 클래식의 정서와 어떠한 맥락도 요하지 않고, 소리라는 외연으로 겉을 감싸고 있을 뿐이다. 그래, 그의 음악은 하나의 천이다. 그런데 나는, 하나의 천을 만들기 위한 가장 중요한 질료로서 그것이 파편된 클래식 샘플들이라 한정 짓고 싶지 않다. 그의 작품 속에서 발견할 수 있는 클래식 음악은 단지 우리에게 전달되거나 보여지는 하나의 이미지일 뿐이다. 그리고 이미지들 사이의 괴리 속에서, 오히려 새로운 감각적 포착의 가능성이 생겨난다. 주요한 것으로 꼽자면, 그가 작품을 만드는 방식에 있어 도무지 원인과 과정만으로는 해명되지 않는 어떤 감적인 체계가 잠재되어 있다는 것이다. 그 감각은 트랙 하나하나에 이름을 붙이는 것과, 아트워크를 고르고, 트랙 순서를 배치하는 모든 순간들에 작동되고 있는 듯하다. 그렇기 때문에, 그는 어떤 의도성과 엄격한 기준대로 클래식 작품을 엄선한다거나, 그것들과 전자음악 사이의 교집합도 일일이 찾아내지는 않았을 것인데, 이질적이지만 하나로 수렴하는 그의 창작 방식이 그 과정 속의 모든 곳에서 일관된 감각으로 발전되었다는 느낌이 그것을 증명한다. 샘플링도 단순히 병렬하는 방식이 아니다. 가령 따로 떼어 놓고 보았을 때는 완전히 상충되는 것이, 거대한 질량으로 불어난 하나의 덩어리가 되어 맞부딪칠 때 서로의 틈새를 속속 메우는 결합이 이루어지고 있다. 그렇게 되면 그 덩어리가 가지고 있는 모호성이라는 것이, 되려 명확하고 끈끈한 것이 된다. 본래 두 가지의 대상이 충돌할 때 우리는 쉽게 오차를 느끼겠지만, 이러한 단위의 충돌에서 어긋나는 지점을 찾기란 어려운 일일테니 말이다. 그로 인해 우리는, 작품 속에서 교묘하게 피해가는 불안정성을 감지해낼 수 없다.
그가 조각 단위의 충돌에 혈안 되어 화성학적 기법에 몰두했다면, 덩어리 단위의 충돌에서 오는 협화를 깨닫지 못했을 것이다. 예컨대, 「Traveller In the Wonderland」에서는 각 샘플들 간의 조성조차 일치하지 않고, 심지어는 뚜렷한 Major(장조)의 선율과 Minor(단조) 선율이 Call&Response1식으로 번갈아 나온다. 초반부부터 끝에 달할 때까지 모호한 이중조의 음색 때문에 마치 빛과 그림자가 교차하는 듯하고, 음색의 차이에서 누설되는 서로 다른 감정들이 뒤섞여 몽환적인 분위기를 환기한다. 또 「Song Of The Sleeping Forest」에서는 브라스 악기들이 Open Voicing2으로 연주되다 어느 한 지점에서 Close Voicing3을 통해 맥락 없는 전조를 해버린다. 그런데 이와 같은 이례적인 전개와 충돌들이, 마치 모두가 다른 언어로 이야기하고 있지만 같은 주제를 이야기하는 것처럼 느껴지고, 더 나아가 작품 속에서 우리를 인도하는 가상의 청각적 공간이, 변함없이 그대로 유지되고 있다는 것을 알 수 있다. 가령 브라스 악기들은 유니즌 선율을 통해 전조를 진행하는데, 그 지점으로 하여금 심연으로 끌려 들어가는 듯한 미학적 순간을 맞이하고, 몰입의 층위를 더 두텁게 만든다. 그로인해 우리는 더 이상 개별적인 음적 차이들 따윈 신경 쓰지 않게 된다. 오히려 그 밀집된 질량이 만들어내는 거대한 압도감에 짓눌리게 된다. 바로 그 타이밍에서, 미세한 불협과 같은 파편된 충돌은 무의미해지고, 거대한 덩어리의 울림이 새로운 협화로 작동하게 되는 것이다.
회화에서의 붓터치는 가까이에서 보면 분절되어 있으면서도 멀리서 보면 질량감 있는 하나의 색면, 하나의 ‘톤’으로 만들어지듯, 노이즈가 화음의 간극을 덮어버리듯, 모호성은 되려 빈틈을 남기지 않는다. 덩어리째의 충돌은, 오히려 맞부딪치는 대상 간의 질량 틈새를 메워 더욱 단단해진다. 나는 그것이 우연에 기인한, 의도할 수 없는 일이라 믿는다. Susumu Yokota가 악기들의 음가를 일일이 계산하며 치밀한 설계 방식이 이루어졌다면, 모호성의 충돌에서도 협화가 이루어질 수 있다는 사실을 깨닫지 못했을 것이다.
우리는 『Symbol』에서 이질성의 유기화를 포착해내야만 한다. 창작가들에게 중요한 것은, 무엇을 레퍼런스로 삼고, 우리는 왜 이미 존재하는 작품들에 개인의 사유들이 덧붙여져 끊임없이 향유해야 하는가에 대한 질문이 던져진다. 궁극적으로 더는 완전한 무에서 유를 창조하는 것이 불가능해진 시대에서, 사유를 통해 끊임없는 결합과 재구성을 시도하는 우리에게 재미있는 탐구 주제가 될 것이라 여긴다. 그의 작업 방식은, 우리가 각기 다른 형태와 낯선 지점들에서 동시에 이끌리는 것들이 있다면, 가령 화성학적인 지식과 같은 학문적 정당화 없이도 순전히 우리가 느끼는 이끌림과, 감각을 제한 없이 끌어다 해석할 수 있는 가능성을 열어준다. 또 ‘음악적’으로 ‘허용되는 것’과 ‘허용되지 않는 것’ 사이에서 갈등하는 부담을 덜어주기도 하며, 불편하고 이질적인 것에서 친숙함을 느낄 수 있도록, 쉽게 허용되지 않는 것이 그렇게 그대로 남겨지지 않도록, 자유로워질 것이다. Susumu Yokota는 분명 이 창작의 과정을 감각적으로 증명하며, 이론적 제약이나 허용/비허용의 경계에서 우리를 해방시킨다.
English Translation (via Google Translate):
Susumu Yokota, widely known to the public, is a master of house music that shook not only Japan but the early 2000s worldwide. However, through 'sakura' (1999), he demonstrated his ambient musical prowess, and as in 'Sea Blue' of 'Sound Of Sky' (2002), he consistently adopted folk and magical ambience using African percussion and spiritual vox as the intro track. Among them, 『Symbol』 is the most cohesive album, recalling the mythological atmosphere and the birth of Impressionism, while actively borrowing ambience that he gradually expressed sensually. Even in dance music like trance and techno, messages with strong spiritual magic can be found hidden throughout the scene, and in 『Symbol』, this sensibility reaches its peak across the board. I can consider 『Symbol』 as an album that fully reveals the sensibilities he had somewhat unraveled in a rather unconventional way, and through this album, I want to talk about the 'possibility of ambiguity' that Susumu Yokota suggests.
Susumu Yokota paints sensibilities. The reason I emphasize this as my first sentence is to clearly point out that he is not simply an electronic artist focused on sound design or classical music sampling. The most accurate word I can call him is 'collage artist.' When we view collage works, we experience moments of strong attraction that converge into one thing from the sensory perspective, though it is impossible to explain. When scattered things come together and form a consistent emotion amid the discord, they become a single lump. I myself have had the experience of collecting photos that seemed alien but happened to be drawn to the exact timing while working on photo collages, driven solely by an unexplained attraction. Susumu Yokota's collage work involves drawing collected elements into the work, juxtaposing classical and electronic music, hiding the alienity that arises from clashes, and creating an organic system that coexists close to tension.
The classical music featured in the works, such as Ravel, Debussy, and Schumann, was a favorite of Susumu Yokota during his lifetime. Before they have any value as his works, they feel like treasure chests he has built with a pure heart. Clearly, all the ingredients used in his collages are collectibles. Also, it is not used like a single quote. It requires no context or emotion of classical music; it simply wraps itself in the outer shell of sound. Yes, his music is a single cloth. However, I do not want to limit it to the most important material for making a single fabric, as it is fragmented classical samples. The classical music found in his works is merely an image conveyed or shown to us. And within the gaps between the images, a new possibility of sensory capture arises. One major point is that in the way he creates his works, there is a latent emotional system that cannot be explained by causes and processes alone. That sense seems to be at work in every moment of naming each track, choosing artwork, and arranging track order. Therefore, he likely did not carefully select classical works with any intention or strict standards, nor did he individually find intersections between them and electronic music; the sense that his heterogeneous yet convergent creative approach developed into a consistent sense throughout the process proves this. Sampling is not simply done in parallel. For example, when viewed separately, what seems completely opposing becomes a single mass swelling into a massive mass, and when they collide, they gradually fill the gaps between each other. When that happens, the ambiguity that the mass possesses becomes clear and sticky. Originally, when two objects collide, we easily sense errors, but it is difficult to find the point of misalignment in such a unit collision. As a result, we cannot detect the instability that is cleverly avoided within the work.
If he had been obsessed with collisions at the fractional level and immersed in harmonic techniques, he would not have realized the harmony that comes from collisions at the mass level. For example, in "Traveller In the Wonderland," even the key between the samples does not match, and distinct Major and minor melodies alternate in a single call & response system. From the beginning to the end, the ambiguous double tone makes it seem as if light and shadow intersect, and the differing emotions revealed by the differences in timbre blend to evoke a dreamlike atmosphere. Also, in "Song Of The Sleeping Forest," brass instruments play Open Voicing but at one point play Close Voicing to create a contextless prelude. However, these unusual developments and conflicts make it feel as if everyone is speaking in different languages but discussing the same theme, and furthermore, the virtual auditory space guiding us within the work remains unchanged. For example, brass instruments advance the prelude through unison melodies, creating an aesthetic moment where one feels as if drawn into an abyss, deepening the layers of immersion. As a result, we no longer care about individual musical differences. Instead, the overwhelming overwhelming force created by that dense mass is overwhelming. At that very moment, fragmented collisions like subtle dissonance become meaningless, and the resonance of a massive mass operates as a new harmony.
In painting, brushstrokes appear fragmented up close but appear massive, forming a single color plane or 'tone,' and noise covers the gaps in chords; ambiguity leaves no gaps. The collision between the masses actually fills the gap between the objects they collide with, making them even harder. I believe it is an accidental and unintended event. If Susumu Yokota had meticulously designed and calculated the pitch values of each instrument one by one, he would not have realized that harmony could be achieved even in the clash of ambiguities.
We must capture the organization of heterogeneity in 『Symbol』. What matters to creators is what to use as a reference, and why we must continuously enjoy personal reflections added to existing works. Ultimately, in an era where it is no longer possible to create something from complete nothingness, I believe this will be an interesting subject of inquiry for those of us who constantly attempt to combine and reconstruct through thought. His approach opens the possibility that, if we are simultaneously drawn to things in different forms and unfamiliar places—for example, without academic justification such as harmonic knowledge—we can freely interpret the attraction and sensations we feel. It also eases the burden of conflict between 'musically' and 'allowed,' allowing people to feel familiar with uncomfortable and alien things, so that what is not easily allowed is left unchanged, and that it becomes free. Susumu Yokota clearly demonstrates this creative process sensuously, freeing us from theoretical constraints and the boundaries of permissibility and non-permissibility.
Originally originating from African traditional music, it is a concept established in blues, jazz, gospel, and similar genres, referring to a dialogic structure where one side presents a musical phrase (call) and the other responds (response) in a dialogue structure. Today, it is not limited to a specific genre but is also used as a general term referring to all forms exchanged like conversations, with different melodies, rhythms, and tonals appearing alternately.
A technique of widely spreading the notes that make up a chord. It's not just about raising pitches; the tonal layers expand spatially, allowing each part to sound independent without interference. For example, instead of stacking Do–Mi–Sol side by side, the notes are arranged as Do–Sol–Mi to create a wider and more open resonance. Especially in brass, this method allows harmonies to scatter through the air, giving a sense of solemnity or spatial presence.
A technique of arranging chords as narrowly and close together as possible. It's not just about 'gluing notes' together; as the density between notes increases, a strong sense of connection is created. In brass, close voicing forms a compressed sound block and acoustically increases vertical tension. When a widely spread sound suddenly shifts to close vocicing, the listener feels the 'tonal shift' more sharply and prominently in the unexpected compression.
Subin
9th September 2025
I wanted to list the classical music Susumu Yokota sampled for this album, but it got huge fast. He uses more than one piece per track, so lets say if you are familiar with popular and not-so-popular classical music, you will recognise much of Symbol. But thats only the beginning of what hes done, because although the samples are there and prominent, they have been overlaid with percussion, female vocals and other synthetic sounds. Its an amazing and unique record that recalls Brian Enos old variations on Pachelbels "Canon in D, or the more modern work of Murcof, though this is much more accessible and less eerie. Its ambient, relaxing and should bring a smile to your face as some of classical musics best wash by in a thoroughly modern take.
Philip Downey
1st August 2005
It's admirable for Susumu Yokota to want to incorporate classical works into modern electronic music contexts. Symbol represents the veteran techno/ambient producer's gung-ho attempt to lend some rhythmic heft to time-tested gorgeous melodies by Tchaikovsky, Mahler, Ravel, Cage, Debussy, Beethoven and many more deceased biggies. While some pieces seem ill-fitting and saccharine, the bulk of Symbol achieves a sublime fusion of incongruous elements, especially when fluid, Steve Reichian marimbas and samples of Meredith Monk's haunting chants intertwine with grandiose violins or urgent pianos. Symbol reveals Yokota's stunning arranging skills-and slyly educates neophytes about classical music's splendors.
Dave Segal
October 2005
On vinyl for the first time courtesy of Lo Recordings is this 2004 album by the late Japanese electronic music pioneer Susumu Yokota. It was seen perhaps as his best work, and cleverly blends samples from the likes of John Cage, Meredith Monk and Debussy into a patchwork quilt of pure ecstatic musical beauty.
Phil Leigh
28th November 2006
Bedroom composer compiles most of his latest release with classical music samples.
As time goes by and the albums pile up, Susumu Yokota's bedrock musical preoccupations have moved to the fore. Symbol, his latest album, is in a sense the finest encapsulation yet of his core aesthetic. It's not his best record (I am still partial to the restraint and austerity of Sakura), but is perhaps the clearest rendering yet of how he hears the world.
Most of the sounds on Symbol come from sampled classical music. Choice bits from famous and not-so-famous pieces are plucked from history, placed alongside Yokota's synths and programmed drums, and looped incessantly to create a dreamy quasi-ambient fabric of sound. The sample credits stretch on like a Dust Brothers album but most of the pilfered have been dead for 100 years or more. Generally the sources lean toward the romantic. Favored throughout are the rich, swirling strings and piano from composers like Debussy, Ravel, and Tchaikovsky, and Yokota finds something pop in all of them. The wordless and ethereal female voice, a long established obsession of Yokota's, is also present. In addition to some original vocals several tracks incorporate samples of Meredith Monk, with her elastic tone veering from childlike whimsy to quasi-liturgical seriousness.
Setting works by famous composers set to beats was a pretty sizable cottage industry in the late 1970s and early 80s, but Yokota's approach is far removed from Hooked on Classics. Rather than using long and familiar sections of pieces, Yokota taps into the emotional material embedded in the sounds of certain instruments and severely truncated melodic fragments. Many samples remain for me, a classical novice, just below the identifiable threshold, something I've heard before in another context but can't quite place. This works to the music's advantage, as it toys with memory and the associations inherent in certain types of sound without giving itself away completely. Obvious exceptions like the loop of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" and swell of Mussorgsky's "A Night on Bald Mountain" stuck into "Flaming Love and Destiny" break the record's spell, but these are exceptions.
It's an aesthetic that's easy to like, with a relentless prettiness so extreme at time it takes on an almost surreal quality. Something about Symbol says "ecstasy album" to me, with a mix and arrangements seem designed to highlight the music's considerable tactile qualities above all else. There's nothing life changing about Symbol but it's not that kind of record; ultimately it's a lush, ornate, and elegant celebration of the oft-maligned pleasure of pure surface-level beauty.
Mark Richardson
15th September 2005
Susumu Yokota moved back to the suburbs of Tokyo after living in Europe, where he told one writer that he visited the mountainside a few times a week. ‘The smell of grass and trees, the air in the woods makes my mind clear,” he said, “‘and it gives good effects for making music. Walking amongst the big trees, I can hear my heartbeat and the echoes of the earth.’ For “Symbol,” Yokota didn’t mince words when it came to titles. Exploring philosophical ideas, myth and the natural world, tracks include “Song of the Sleeping Forest,” “Blue Sky and Yellow Sunflower” and “Symbol of Life, Love and Aesthetics.” The album was primarily composed using samples from classical orchestral pieces, such as Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite and Saint-Saëns’s Carnival of the Animals, as well as more modern compositions by John Cage and Meredith Monk.
Having made an almost perfect musical statement with 2000's 'Sakura', Susumu Yokota is often accused of not living up to that album's sprawling scope and diffused ambience. Marking his 25th album (25!) Yokota has decided to answer those critics with a record that combines the detached aura of 'Grinning Cat' with the directness of his more truculent offerings, claiming it to be his "masterpiece". Built around hordes of classical samples (Puccini, Debussy, Mahler and Beethoven amongst them) 'Symbol' is a grand document that raises two pertinent questions; is it pretentious and is it any cop? The answers; probably and certainly. Opening with 'Long Long Silk Bridge' it's easy to stare cynically at the crate load of Juniper scented strings Yokota conjures up, dipping in and out as over-wrought choirs take to the stage with bare floorboard beats underfoot, but somehow it all works wonderfully. Yokota is barely finished on this prologue epic before he sends the listener into another huge arrangement ('Purple Rose Minuet') that sets harpsichords against some eerily echoing Japanese vocals, again to startling effect. Although his panache for bloody stupid song titles pervades throughout ("The Plateau Which the Zephyr of Flora Occupies"/"Fairy Dance of Twinkle and Shadow"), you get the feeling it's not as po-faced as you are first led to believe with a playful spirit evident on most tracks. Closing with the effeminacy of 'Music from the Lake Surface', 'Symbol' is undoubtedly overblown but in Yokota's affable hands it becomes an indulgent treat. Lovely.
The combination of electronic dance beats and “classical” music has never been cool. Electronic music, much like the technology that creates it, is notorious for the haste with which it goes stale. Most records in the genre have an exceedingly short shelf life, and splicing in a few bars of something that seems eternally resonant such as “Moonlight Sonata” aids this problem not at all.
An example?
You need look no further than Enigma’s 1990 surprise hit “Principles of Lust”, which made strange bedfellows of slinky trip-hop beats and Gregorian chants (with a whispering French lady thrown into the mix for added erotic value). Although it probably made a great soundtrack for the most intimate experiences of about a million yuppies ten years ago, these days you would stand a good chance of finding a copy of the CD under somebody’s glass of milk.
So what to make of Susumu Yokota’s new CD Symbol? Yokota at least feels that he has crafted his masterpiece. Weaving together samples of classical and contemporary concert music to create a tapestry of seemingly disparate sounds wedded at times to electronic backbeats and ambient textures, the record is nothing if not intricate. However, despite Yokota’s feelings the question remains: is it cheese?
Having made a name for himself working in the Japanese dance scene throughout the 1990s, Yokota finally came to greater international attention through the ambient albums he began to release on the Leaf label near the end of that decade. His 2001 release Grinning Cat was an absorbing record of delicate piano cut-ups, gently programmed rhythms and quietly shifting moods.
Despite any of its faults, Symbol is without a doubt a huge step forward for Yokota. At its best the record seamlessly combines samples drawn from throughout the history of western music into compositions that carry their own distinct identity. “The Dying Black Swan”, which finds its roots in the haunting melodies of Meredith Monk only to slowly introduce a lilting piano and string accompaniment, stands out as some of the best, most engrossing work on the record. Other tracks like “Capriccio And The Innovative Composer” find a way to side-step plugging in obvious backbeats, and instead form rhythms based on the give and take of different interwoven samples.
At its worst, Symbol loses balance while straddling the delicate line between innovation and schmaltz. “Symbol of love, life and aesthetics” suffers not only from its own overbearing title but also an obvious and dry programmed beat that waxes near Enigma territory. The larger problem, however, occurs when Yokota samples themes that are too obvious in their origin. “Flaming Love and Destiny” lifts unmistakable passages from works by both Beethoven and Wagner to almost hilariously overdramatic effect, not to mention an intense sense of deja-vu. It is tracks like this that seem to have the least independent identity, sounding like mash-up remixes of the original material.
In the end, no matter how much time passes, Enigma’s “Principles of Lust” will forevermore be one step away from being an ironic soundtrack for a scene in a summer teen sex comedy. Its time has come and gone. Yokota’s Symbol, though it may never prove that matching beats to themes cribbed from Bach can be “cool”, will never be ripe for such parody. Despite any faults, the record is well crafted enough to be appreciated merely for its technical aspects, and the moments that do shine will stand up for a long time to come.
13th September 2005
Ambient electronic music is a genre open for abuse. Seemingly any hack with a laptop, a synthesizer, and the right software can accumulate some samples of leaves rustling and pages turning, edit them together, and tell the world that they are the next Eno. However, it is with great confidence that I tell you to cast any such fears or misgivings aside for a true master of ambient electronic in the 21st century -- Susumu Yokota. For those already familiar with his work on such releases as Sakura and Grinning Cat, this statement will come as no surprise, and his latest release, Symbol, finds him adding another fine achievement to his growing list.
For this album, Yokota has expertly selected some stunning selections of classical music to interweave with his drum programming in order to create a rich texturing of primarily romantic, but also more modern expressionistic and avant-garde musics. Most tracks feature multiple sound sources, yet they fit together so seamlessly. "Flaming love and destiny" motors along with a persistent rhythm underlying a piano sample taken from Beethoven's "Piano sonata no. 14," and punctuated by strings taken from Saint Saens's "Carnival of the Animals: Aquarium." For the finishing touch, the drama of Mussorgsky's "A Night on Bare Mountain" slides in to give it a sense of completion. And even within that one track, more sounds are invoked. With that said, the mix is so cleanly constructed that no one piece ever becomes overwhelming.
Of course, while this is nowhere near the pulsing beat of the dance music that Yokota has done in the past, it is neither as subdued as his more ambient work. This middle ground works well enough but may not appeal to those who have been drawn to the restraint of Sakura. However, the presence of so many great composers through the samples used may draw some curious classical listeners willing to dip a toe into the electronic swimming pool. My guess is that at least a few will find the water quite pleasing.
Dave Gurney
Since his death in 2015, there has been a widespread reappraisal of the work of ambient techno producer Susumu Yokota, with albums like Acid Mt. Fuji and Sakura becoming immensely popular on YouTube. Lo Recordings have now started on a series of vinyl reissues, starting with 2004 album Symbol.
It’s his most characterful project, an ambient record which samples heavily and brazenly from car-advert classical music. This is unlike other ambient music of the era with similar inspirations, like Deaf Center’s Pale Ravine or Shenzhou by Biosphere, which tended to make a virtue of being as muted and tasteful as possible. Going from a Stars of the Lid track to the blatant sample of ‘Clair de Lune’ on ‘Purple Rose Minuet’, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Yokota was taking the piss.
Reading the new liner notes from a friend of Yokota’s, journalist Tsutomu Noda, will change your mind on that point. Noda describes Yokota as an austere, slightly lonely man, quoting an early interview: “When I was a child, my parents were both working, so I spent a lot of time at home alone. I’d go into the cupboard, rearrange it and make a castle out of bedding […] and then daydream. Life hasn’t changed much since.”
That sense of slight disconnect with the world is the core of the album. Yokota wasn’t joking, but there is no overdone self-seriousness here either. Symbol is a sincere attempt to use the music most people hear incidentally here and there as children to connect with a dreaming past self. If you are still able to look at a pile of bedclothes and see a castle, you might listen to Symbol and hear your own childhood reflected back at you.
Alex Francis
4th April 2022
Yokota was at the forefront of Japan's electronic music scene as it blossomed in the early '90s. His vast and exceptional body of work found him fans from far beyond the realms of the dance community, with Bjork, Phillip Glass, and Radiohead's Thom Yorke just a few names from his long list of admirers. His music found homes on revered labels such as Harthouse, Sublime Records, Reel Musiq, Leaf, and his own Skintone imprint, and his music saw him invited to perform DJ sets at the world's best-loved dance venues. He was the first Japanese artist to play at Berlin's Love Parade, and – alongside Ken Ishii – represented Asia magnificently during dance music's halcyon days through the late '90s and early '00s. His sound veered from techno to acid, ambient to house, breaks to drum & bass, and he recorded under innumerable aliases – including Stevia, Ebi, Prism, Ringo, Yin & Yan, Anima Mundi.
Though he died tragically in 2015, his incredible back catalogue continues to shine brightly, and it's of little surprise that labels are opting to re-issue the best of his music. Earlier in 2021, UK label Cosmic Soup presented a collection of house and techno sounds Yokota recorded under the secret alias 246, and now it's the turn of his ambient-leaning 'Symbol' to enjoy another jaunt under the spotlight. Previously released on British imprint Lo-Recordings, the blissfully horizontal album is formed around a core of samples borrowed from classical music – manipulated and repurposed alongside Yokota's masterful programming.
Borrowing passages and snippets from classical masters including Debussy, Tchaikovsky, and Ravel, he expertly lifts the emotion behind the original music while uniquely reimagine the music. From the soothing strings of opening track 'Long Long Silk Bridge' to the mesmerising chants of 'Flaming Love And Destiny', the album overflows with imagination and spellbinding beauty. Yokota was a true master of electronic music composition, and 'Symbol' is among his most playfully seductive albums. Penetrable but profound, its re-issue represents a wonderful opportunity for new audiences to marvel at his studio prowess.
Patrizio Cavaliere
1st October 2021
For what's typically labeled an electronic album, from an electronic musician, the first thing you'll notice with Symbol is an ambient nature. The sub-three minute opener invites you with a lot of airiness, some peculiar percussive sounds, and swooning strings. It's a nice introduction. And then you're met with Debussy's "Clair de Lune".
With Symbol, Susumu Yokota spends forty-five minutes weaving classical music with his more avant-garde electronica styling. At its core, the album is exercise in repetition in the electronica and healthy doses of classical samples. "Traveler in the Wonderland" begins with a moment of a Boccherini minuet following straight into the famed oboe solo from Camille Saint-Saens' "Bacchanale". It's one of the more arresting tracks with the percussive nature of stringed instruments, reverberating chanting, and dazzling piano samples.
At its worst, some of the songs can be challenging. "Capriccio and the Innovative Composer" is a dizzying marriage of sounds, short but unrelenting. The aggressive strings from Schubert's "I. Allegro" seem to clash indecisively against the waltzing piano underneath it. With more Saint-Saens, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky on either side of the track, it's a minor sag.
Some of the album's explorations are reminiscent of works of Steve Reich, including but not limited to the sampling of the composer. "Blue Sky and Yellow Sunflower" begins with "Six Marimbas" dancing atop lush strings, preceding an orchestration of synth and delay-rich vocal and electronic sounds. Much of the album is structured in such a way, looping mallet percussion or some atypical rhythm maker holding steady while a familiar composition is woven in. The song ends suddenly, reminding the listener that the out of phase marimbas were playing the whole time.
Yokota also makes excellent use of Meredith Monk for vocal additions, notable in "Song of the Sleeping Forest" for their mellow nature, blending in instead of taking a frontwoman approach. Most of Yokota's meshing like this is done tastefully, curated into cohesiveness across its runtime.
Made in 2005, Symbol still feels fresh. Perhaps it was a daring undertaking that was ahead of its time, like a different kind of Endtroducing, but with a Japanese electronica musician employing revered classical composers for his sampling inspiration. Susumu Yokota passed away in 2015, but he left us with a one-of-a-kind album while we had him.
Josh D.
28th July 2022
Possibly the most unique item within Susumu Yokota's highly idiosyncratic oeuvre, Symbol finds the multifaceted Japanese electronica master defying and muddying genre distinctions to create sui generis compositions of considerable beauty and strangeness. That's not exactly new territory for Yokota, but this time there's a gimmick: the album is consists primarily of fragments taken from classical pieces, many of them highly familiar, if not always readily identifiable, by the likes of Debussy, Rachmaninov, and Beethoven -- with a particular reliance on Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker" and Saint-Saëns' "Carnival of the Animals" -- as well as bits of more recent works by John Cage and Meredith Monk, whose unearthly voice becomes a focal point for several of these tracks. But while Yokota cuts, pastes, and plunders the world of art music with a palpable exuberance akin to the mash-up artists, his contemporaries, who were doing similar things with pop, the results are more nuanced than merely novel. Nor is it entirely out of step with his previous work -- it's not as serenely ambient as the beloved Sakura (though it is generally quite soothing), and it certainly has little to do with his various dance-oriented releases, but it retains the meticulous, multilayered compositional approach of albums like Grinning Cat and The Boy & the Tree. And although the presence of electronics is kept relatively understated, the elements with which Yokota weaves together his mad grab-bag of orchestral motifs, frolicsome fragments of flute and piano, and stately string passages (there are sometimes as many as seven classical samples in a single four-minute piece) will be immediately familiar to his listeners: subtly burbling beats, wordless ethereal vocals, vaguely Asian-sounding percussion loops (as well as a marimba ostinato that could pass for a Steve Reich sample). Indeed, without the obviously recognizable nature of his sample sources (which, depending on your perspective, could be a source of distraction or a point of engagement), it would be difficult to distinguish many of these pieces from "standard" Yokota compositions -- a feat which is in itself quite an accomplishment. That it's also a fascinating and rewarding listen, and an undeniably gorgeous bit of craftsmanship, arguably elevates Symbol to near the level of its inspirations, or at least positions it as a curious bridge between too-often estranged musical worlds.
K. Ross Hoffman
Yokota weaves samples, most of them classical, into often mesmerizing electronic wholes on Symbol, with songs like the wistful opener “Long, Long Silk Bridge” and “Fairy Dance of Twinkle and Shadow” as sonically striking as their titles suggest. In one of the strongest pieces, “Purple Rose Minuet,” Yokota arranges fragments of Debussy's “Claire de lune,” Arabic vocal ululations, harpsichord filigrees, and orchestral bombast into a sparkling multi-layered fusion that shouldn't work yet somehow does. Unlike some sample-based artists, Yokota hardly camouflages the identity of his source material; samples of Meredith Monk and Steve Reich, for instance, appear liberally on “The Dying Black Swan” and “Blue Sky and Yellow Sunflower” respectively. Sometimes that's a problem; tastelessly coupling a string sample from Mahler's Fifth Symphony “Adagietto” with techno beats in “Symbol of Life, Love, and Aesthetics” does neither Yokota nor the Viennese composer any favours.
A couple of pieces veer a little closely to New Age bombast for their own good (the World Music episode “Flaming Love and Destiny,” all sawing strings, dramatic vocals, and cymbal crashes, and the raucous “Capriccio and the Innovative Composer”); more satisfying by comparison are quieter, melancholy vignettes like “The Dying Black Swan” and “I Close the Door Upon Myself.” Yokota wisely closes the album in similarly delicate manner with “Music from the Lake Surface ,” a pretty coda of strings, piano, and voice that reprises the Mascagni sample to haunting effect.
Still, as pretty as the music often is and as imaginative as Yokota's treatment of the source material may be, the worm at this apple's core is that it's at root parasitical, or at least remains too conspicuously so when samples are left unaltered. Furthermore, sometimes the sheer number of quotations incorporated into a given song is excessive (“Symbol of Life, Love, and Aesthetics” and “Song of the Sleeping Forest”) and at times their juxtaposition can be jarring; Monk's voice doesn't really merge comfortably with marimba patterns at the beginning of “Song of the Sleeping Forest,” for example, though the lovely orchestral elements (the “Intermezzo” from Mascagni's Cavalleria rusticana and Ravel's “Pavane pour une infante défunte”) that follow definitely do, making for one of the album's most affecting moments.
July 2005
Original Review in Japanese:
あとになって「発見」された日本の環境音楽やシティ・ポップとは異なり、横田進は『Sakura』以降、海外ではずっとリアルタイムで評価されつづけてきた。死後もその気運が途絶えることはなく、2019年には『Acid Mt.Fuji』（1994）がアナログ化され、〈Leaf〉からは『Sakura』（1999）が再プレス、未発表音源集『Cloud Hidden』も〈Lo〉からリリースされている。同年〈Lo〉は、ほかの音楽家たちに横田の音楽を解釈させるメモリアル・イヴェントを開催してもいる。
その影響はつくり手にも及んでいて、たとえば日本では食品まつりが横田進の作品から刺戟を受け、制作の参考にしているという（ただいまインタヴュー準備中）。とくに『Symbol』が大きかったそうだ。横田にとってちょうど30枚めのアルバムである。初出は2004年。
どこかで耳にしたことのあるクラシック音楽の旋律がつぎつぎとあらわれては消え、通りすぎていく──さらっと聴き流すだけであればモダン・クラシカルの一種として消費できてしまうかもしれないが、しかしこのアルバムはいわゆるモダン・クラシカルの作品ではない。
横田進は個人的には『Sakura』の印象が強いので、あの落ちついた音響をものした彼がこれほど騒がしいクラシック音楽のコラージュ作品を残していたことに驚く。ライナーノーツによれば、彼は本盤の制作中、意外なことにムーディマンの『Silence In The Secret Garden』（2003）と『Black Mahogani』（2004）を聴きこんでいたのだという。独自の切り口でソウルやファンクをサンプリングし、デトロイトのエレクトロニック・ミュージックに新たな局面をもたらしたケニー・ディクソン・ジュニア━━それとおなじことをクラシック音楽で実践しようとしたのがこの『Symbol』だ。
それは時代的にも先を行く試みだった。テクノのアイディアでムソルグスキーとラヴェルをカット＆ペーストし再構築してみせた、カール・クレイグ＆モーリッツ・フォン・オズヴァルドによる『ReComposed』が2006年。横田はそれより2年早い。
まずは3曲め “Traveler In The Wonderland” を聴いてみてほしい。ヴァイオリン初学者であればかならず弾くことになるだろうボッケリーニ「メヌエット」の冒頭を「えっ、そこで!?」と驚愕する箇所で切り落とし、残りは潔くごみ箱へとぽい。それだけでじゅうぶん大胆なのだけれど、横田はその残骸をサン＝サーンス「サムソンとダリラ」の “バッカナール” とかけあわせ、さらに中盤から「動物の謝肉祭」の“水族館” をぶちこんでくる。これぞサンプリングの醍醐味だろう。
とはいえ一見無節操に映る素材の切り貼りも、じつはビートを尊重すべく丁寧に処理されている。最良の証左は12曲め “Symbol Of Life, Love, And Aesthetics” で聴くことができる。同曲では中盤、ヘンデル「オンブラ・マイ・フ」にべつのヴァイオリンがつぎ木されているが（これなんだっけ？）、その音符の隙間には、リズムを調整するためにほんのかすかな余白が与えられているのだ。この間の打ち方には、正直鳥肌が立った。
なぜ彼はこのようなアルバムをつくったのだろうか。横田はたんにサンプリングの教科書としてムーディマンを参照したのではない。編集長によれば彼は、ムーディマンのファンキーな部分や怒りにではなく、その音楽がときおり見せる、崇高とも言える美に惹きつけられていたのではないか、と。
興味深いのは、ライナーノーツで横田が「象徴主義ということを意識して作った」「僕がやってきたことは象徴主義的だった」と明かしている点だ。
象徴主義とはなにか。暴力的に単純化して言えば、異化効果である。「ハトは平和の象徴」がわかりやすいが、本作でいえば、アートワークに使用されたウォーターハウスのニンフは一般的に、性欲や誘惑を暗示するものと解釈されている。ある具体的なものを、それそのものとしてではなく、なにかをほのめかすものとして捉えることにより、通常では到達不可能な領域へ到達しようとする試み。ヴェルレーヌにもランボーにもマラルメにも共通しているのが、その暗示的な想像性だ。
素材は神話上のものでなくとも構わない。たとえば、花。それを、現実に咲く花それ自体として表現するのではなく、「艹」「化」という視覚的情報や「ハ」「ナ」という音声効果のレヴェルで捉え返し、ほかの字や音と並べたり組み合わせたりすることで想像を刺戟、現実に咲く花とはべつの観念的なものを喚起する。そのようなプロセスを経て美に接近しようとする試みが象徴主義だ。だからこそそれは、個人の感情をぶちまけるロマン主義とも、「ありのまま」の世界を模倣しようとする自然主義／写実主義とも異なる、美へのオルタナティヴな到達手段たりえたのだった。
横田が大量のクラシック音楽をサンプリングしたのも、異化効果を狙ってのことだろう。ドビュッシー、マーラー、ライヒ……と、素材自体に一貫性はない。それらをもとの文脈から引き剥がし、巧みにビートと共存させることによって横田は、新たな美を描こうとしているのだ。
彼はライナーノーツのなかで「ぼくは美を求めていてそれを音楽で表現している」と語っている。気になって前後の作品を聴いてみたが、『Symbol』は明らかに異色だ。『Sakura』や『Love Or Die』（2007）のようなエレクトロニック・リスニング・ミュージックではないし、ダンスに寄った『Zero』（2000）や『Over Head』（2003）、ヴォーカリストを招いた『Wonder Waltz』（2006）ともまるでちがう。すなわち本作は、それらの手法では接近することのできない美を表現しようとした試行錯誤の記録であり、実験だったのだ。
象徴主義は、その試みの純粋さゆえ、日常や世俗の常識から遠ざかる側面も持っていた（じっさい、ヴェルレーヌは破滅的な人生を送り、逆にランボーは早々に断筆し世俗化、商人にジョブチェンジしている）。そのような世俗からの離脱は、まさに横田の活動が体現しているものでもある。だから、クラシック音楽の断片と戯れる厭世的な本作が、コロナ以降の絶望的な時代、この見るに耐えない政治状況下でリイシューされたことは、とてもタイムリーだと言える。欲しいのはワクチンでもメダルでもない。美だ、と。
English Translation (via Google Translate):
Unlike Japanese environmental music and city pop, which were 'discovered' later, Susumu Yokota has been continuously recognized overseas in real time since 'Sakura.' Even after his death, this momentum did not fade; in 2019, 'Acid Mt. Fuji' (1994) was released on vinyl, 'Sakura' (1999) was reissued by Leaf, and the previously unreleased tracks collection 'Cloud Hidden' were released by Lo. That same year, 〈Lo〉 also held a memorial event where other musicians interpreted Yokota's music.
This influence extends to the creators; for example, in Japan, food festivals are inspired by Susumu Yokota's works and use them as references for their production (interviews are currently being prepared). Apparently, 'Symbol' was especially significant. This is exactly Yokota's 30th album. First appeared in 2004.
Classical melodies familiar somewhere appear and disappear one after another, passing by—if you just casually listen to them, you might be able to consume them as a kind of modern classical, but this album is not a work of so-called modern classical.
Susumu Yokota personally has a strong impression of 'Sakura,' so he is surprised that he managed such a noisy classical music collage with such a calm sound. According to the liner notes, during the production of this album, he surprisingly listened to Moodyman's 'Silence In The Secret Garden' (2003) and 'Black Mahogani' (2004). Kenny Dixon Jr., who sampled soul and funk with his own unique approach and brought a new dimension to Detroit's electronic music—this 'Symbol' was the attempt to practice the same in classical music.
It was an attempt ahead of its time. Carl Craig & Moritz von Oswald released 'ReComposed' in 2006, cutting and pasting Mussorgsky and Ravel with techno ideas. Yokota was two years earlier.
First, I recommend you listen to the third track, "Traveler In The Wonderland." If you're a beginner in the violin, you'll definitely play Boccherini's 'Minuet' at the beginning, but when you think, 'Huh, right there!?' I cut off the rest at the spot where I was shocked, and boldly tossed the rest into the trash. That alone is bold enough, but Yokota mixes the wreckage with the "Bacchanal" from Sun=Saanes' "Samson and Darilah," and from the middle of the story, throws in the "Aquarium" from "The Animal Carnival." This is the real thrill of sampling.
That said, even the material cut-and-paste that may seem reckless at first glance is actually carefully processed to respect the beat. The best proof can be heard in track 12, "Symbol Of Life, Love, And Aesthetics." In the middle of the same piece, another violin is added to Handel's 'Ombra Mai Fu' (what was this again?). Between those notes, there is a faint margin to adjust the rhythm. Honestly, the way he played during this time gave me goosebumps.
Why did he make such an album? Yokota did not simply refer to Moodyman as a textbook for sampling. According to the editor-in-chief, he was not drawn to Moody Man's funky side or anger, but rather to the occasional sublime beauty that the music displayed.
Interestingly, in the liner notes, Yokota reveals that he was conscious of symbolism in his creation, and that 'what I have done has been symbolic.'
What is symbolism? To put it violently and simply, it's the effect of alienation. While the idea that 'the dove is a symbol of peace' is easy to understand, in this work, the nymph of the Waterhouse used in the artwork is generally interpreted as symbolizing sexual desire or temptation. An attempt to reach a realm that is normally unattainable by viewing something concrete not as it itself but as something that hints at something. What Verlaine, Rimbaud, and Mallarmé all share is their suggestive imagination.
The material does not have to be mythical. For example, flowers. Rather than expressing it as a flower that blooms in reality, it is reinterpreted through visual information like '艹' and '化' (transformation), or the level of sound effects like 'ha' and 'na', and by arranging or combining it with other characters and sounds, it satirizes imagination and evokes something conceptual about flowers that bloom in reality. Symbolism is an attempt to approach beauty through such a process. That is precisely why it was an alternative means of attaining beauty, different from romanticism, which vents personal emotions, and naturalism/realism, which tries to imitate a world as it is.
Yokota's large amount of classical music sampling was likely intended to create a sense of alienation. Debussy, Mahler, Reich...... In other words, the materials themselves lack consistency. By stripping these elements from their original context and skillfully coexisting with the beat, Yokota seeks to depict a new kind of beauty.
In the liner notes, he says, "I seek beauty, and I express it through music." Curious, I listened to the earlier and later works, and 'Symbol' is clearly unique. It's not electronic listening music like 'Sakura' or 'Love Or Die' (2007), and it's completely different from dance-oriented tracks like 'Zero' (2000) and 'Over Head' (2003), or 'Wonder Waltz' (2006) featuring vocalists. In other words, this work was a record of trial and error in attempting to express a beauty that those methods could not reach, and it was an experiment.
Because of the purity of its attempts, Symbolism also had aspects that distanced itself from everyday life and common sense (in fact, Verlaine led a ruinous life, while Rimbaud quickly stopped writing, secularized, and changed his career to become a merchant). Such a break from the secular world is precisely what Yokota's activities embody. Therefore, it is very timely that this world-weary work, which plays with fragments of classical music, was reissued in the desperate post-COVID era, under these unbearable political circumstances. What they want is neither vaccines nor medals. It's beautiful.
Takune Kobayashi
6th July 2021
The Moment Sampling Becomes a Painting: Susumu Yokota’s Symbol
Susumu Yokota's music has the power to quietly ignite something like “memories before they take shape” instead of speaking directly about emotions.
Among them, 'Symbol' (2004) is an album that shines with a unique brilliance within his body of work.
Electronic music and classical sampling melt together, and this record is packed with an acoustic magic that feels as if light is drifting through a room while reflecting off multiple layers.
'Symbol' consists of 13 tracks, totaling about 45 minutes.
By reconstructing classical orchestral works through sampling, he creates a world where “
the ghostly shadows of classical music emerge from the electronic mist”.A diverse range of sound sources are cited, including Saint-Saëns, Tchaikovsky, Debussy, Ravel, Meredith Monk, and John Cage.
When you hear 'electronic music using classical samples,' you might imagine flashy collages or emotional arrangements. However, in Yokota's hands, the sound loses its 'materiality,' and only the presence remains.
It is as if the light within a painting is slowly beginning to move.
Rather than the melody coming to the fore, 'formless colors' spread through the air.
For instance, the strings in 'Long Long Silk Bridge' have a deep resonance despite feeling almost weightless.
In 'Song of the Sleeping Forest,' Monk's voice rises like mist, only to vanish just as quickly.
And then there is 'Symbol of Life, Love, and Aesthetics' toward the end of the album. As the title suggests, there is a moment when you realize that abstract concepts like life, beauty, and love are being expressed solely through sound.
Music where the contours of emotion emerge before words do.
That is what I believe 'Symbol' is.
His untimely passing is a source of deep regret.
Kotoshika
2026
One of the most interesting upcoming releases is probably Japanese electronica musician Susumu Yokota‘s 25th (twenty-fifth!) album, Symbol, out on 6th June. Yokota is, for my money, one of the most subtle, inventive artists making ambient-ish electronica. Normally I’d recommend any album of his with absolute confidence – I bought several on the strength of hearing just one track from Sakura (alongside Grinning Cat probably his best record), and didn’t hit a dud. There are few of his tunes available to download via his label Leaf.
Symbol though is a little provocative: it’s composed to a large extent of samples of – mostly well-known – classical works. Classical mashups if you like. This is an idea I’ve always wanted someone to explore well, and by my reckoning Yokota would be the man to attempt it, so on one level I’m really pleased that he has. However, the first review I’ve read – in The Wire last month – was less than happy with the results. The BBC have three tracks available for streaming, and I’m left pretty ambivalent myself. The third track, ‘The Dying Black Swan’ is certainly the best of three – and I think stands up well to a lot of Yokota’s other work. It’s the only one of the three to completely eschew a beat, which has been the case with many of Yokota’s better tunes (much as I love the harder, housier things on 1999). The other two, ‘Purple Rose Minuet’ and ‘Song of the Sleeping Forest’ tread the fine line between inspired and naff; the limp beats on ‘Song’ definitely edging it towards the naff side. Pulling riffs from Debussy’s ‘Au clair de la lune’ at the start of ‘Minuet’ is also a pretty high risk strategy – to most people who’ve watched much British TV over the last few years it sounds like it could lapse quickly into an advert for soft cheese. The feel of the track is unmistakable Yokota – lots of lovely, rich loops, given the space to really sound – but his source material is just that bit too obvious. ‘Song’ relies much more on late 20th-century minimalism: plenty of Meredith Monk loops in here, plus some marimba riffs that I’m guessing are Reich. Yokota’s clear take on his material here make the mistake that minimalism is a comforting, relaxing, musical trend, rather than the radical, unsettling phenomenon that it is. Again this is a surprise from Yokota, since I’ve always felt that his strongest ambient work has been coloured with enough dark shades to keep it interesting, and here he’s been tempted to indulge in some cheap coffee house sounds.
‘The Dying Black Swan’ does keep that darker edge – the lack of an emphasised pulse keeps you unsettled, and a few of the samples don’t completely lock harmonically, making for some tangy clashes. On the strength of this, I’ll probably get the album when it comes out, so here’s hoping there’s more like it.
Tim Rutherford-Johnson
26th May 2005
Upon pressing play, the listener is immediately plunged in a current of ethereal introspection. A wide range of classical samples are seamlessly interlocked, sleight of hand shifting to synth melodies and back again. Symbol is beautiful, to put easily. It frames clearly what ills us, like a mirror reflecting back to us our shadow selves.
Only a few songs into the album, stabbing strings on Traveler In The Wonderland emphasize the song’s looping nature while countering samples fade in and out in a haze of reverb. Even as things grow more festive, an air of mystique is always at hand on Symbol. Following track Song of The Sleeping Forest is no exception. A 60s prom dance clashing with electronic personified exotica, melancholic tenderness carry the listener on a cloud of air before fading into the night.
Many songs, Flaming Love And Destiny for example, are far too bold to simply be considered ambient (as this album usually is). Even songs 3 or 4 minutes long seem to fly by in seconds. Still, the album is incredibly meditative, introspective, and begging to draw out the wonderment (however enlightening or horrifying) we carry deep within ourselves.
Symbol is a masterwork in musique concrète and contemporary classical composition. Each song on the album is intricately crafted, vocal samples obscured or altered resembling only the fading memory of human life. Maybe none more so than I Close The Door Upon Myself, a sonic interpretation of painter Fernand Khnopff’s 1891 symbolist work I Lock The Door Upon Myself, or perhaps of other work inspired by it. Either way, Symbol‘s introspective element is made abundantly clear in a statement such as this.
Yokota died, 54 years old, on March 27th, 2015 after a “long period of illness.” His exact cause of death is undisclosed. While Mr Yokota released many records since the early 1990s, one could spend their whole life exploring each sound, technique, and the myriad of emotional interpretations that saturate Symbol.
Susumu Yokota is a genius, a master of his craft gone too soon. Symbol is perhaps the most beautiful album released so far in the 21st century. Quoting Youtube user Ed Barret on an upload of Blue Sky and Yellow Sunflower from Symbol, “If I were to leave a piece of art this stunningly beautiful when I die, I wouldn’t need an epitaph.”
Lubert Das
21st May 2021
Ah, it’s been a while since we actually talked about music here at tunequest, so let’s pick up where we left off: Susumu Yokota. I recently posted about my discovery of his music via an Amazon recommendation for his 2001 exploration of ambient minimalism, Grinning Cat (perhaps a reference to Alice in Wonderland?). Having piqued my interest to the extreme, I started researching the man and his work.
His style is as varied as he is prolific. Indeed, one recurring thread in my reading was that Yokota cannot claim a definitive fan following because, despite his obvious talents and aptitudes, he never sticks around in any particular musical form long enough to create an authoritative body of work, becoming more an admired dabbler than a respected icon.
Yet, from everything I’ve heard, Yokota’s abilities transcend form, appealing to a more fundamental level of music appreciation. No matter what he’s doing, there’s a layer of genius to it that overrides the superficiality of style. It doesn’t matter that each record varies stylistically because the underlying music is simply wonderful. Of course, I say that having listened to only two of his records, but it is an opinion that will inform my reactions as I delve further into his repertoire.
Having previously covered Grinning Cat, I turn my attention to Yokota’s 2005 record, Symbol. Of all the choices in Yokota’s catalogue, I was drawn to this one solely by its album cover: a tightly cropped portion of John William Waterhouse’s Hylas and the Nymphs, which happens to be a favorite painting in my house.
I can’t help but wonder how the myth of Hylas relates to these recordings. Perhaps the closely cropped image is itself a symbol. Like the nymphs of lore, these songs are lush, alluring, temptuous; and if one is not careful, one could easily become lost with them. I’ll buy that; this album is nearly bliss.
Artwork aside, like Grinning Cat, this record could hardly get more beautiful, but where the previous record exists to slowly percolate its sound, Symbol fills the air with atmosphere and a subtle aura of exuberance. Each of the thirteen songs on the album is teeming with compositional splendor.
That splendor is due in no small part to Yokota’s generous sampling of classical music, which forms an orchestral underpinning of the entire experience. It is one of the most intriguing things I’ve ever heard. Classical music tends to be in its own world, distinct from the “lowly” place of popular music, so it’s fascinating to hear what are essentially classical music mash ups.
Off the top of my head, there’s Boccherini’s Celebrated Minuet, Debussy’s Clair de Lune (multiple times), Holst’s Jupiter (from The Planets), Mussorgsky’s Night on Bald Mountain and several brief samples of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumble Bee.
Even though I do appreciate the crashing of the classical gate, I also find it interesting that Yokota chose relatively popular works from which to sample. I suppose that with a concept such as this, recognizable pieces lower the barrier of entry for the casual listener, one who’s probably not very familiar with all that classical has to offer. At least there’s no Ode to Joy or Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.
In the end, Symbol is masterpiece and it excites me even further as I look forward to my next Susumu Yokota record.
24th January 2007