THE BOY AND THE TREE
“What at first seems like stillness soon starts to resonate, while what seems like random and arrhythmic percussion, is revealed as mere rhythmic complexity.”
Lauren Phelan
Inspired by his move into the fresh air of Tokyo’s outer suburbs, combined with the wolfish ecological thrust of Hayao Miyazaki’s animated classic Princess Mononoke, Susumu Yokota takes his listeners for a long walk beneath the branches of ancient trees. Nature respires, sprites dance and gentle breezes set up their own half-conscious rhythms, Sounds shimmer and ripple as if they are happening by themselves, but it’s not hard to discern Yokota’s hand carefully shaping and directing the music’s easy flow of effects. Although the mood is amiable enough on the delicate “Fairy Link” and the undulating “Grass Tree and Stone”, a darker view asserts itself on the desolate, frozen stasis of “ Blood And Snow”.
Ken Hollings
September 2002
The mercurial soundscaper, DJ and producer finds inspiration in the ancient woodlands of the southern Japanese island of Yakushima. Released in 2000, Susumu Yokota’s widely-acclaimed Sakura was such a exquisite piece of electronica it seemed destined to cast a long shadow over his career. But its follow up Grinning Cat, the more dancefloor oriented Will and Sound Of Sky, and Waters Edge (a collaboration with Rothko) all saw him restlessly covering new ground. The Boy And The Tree is very different again.
Its his deepest album yet: keyboards′ guitars and samples are used to evoke an atmosphere of aromatic forest coolness cut with sun-filled glades. Ritualistic percussion loops drift in and out and drive on the extraordinary processional of Red Swan. Yokota also shows his House producers knack with a vocal hook, but here the voices call from the distance in a way that is eerie and seductive.
These beautifully worked tableaux equal Yokota’s best work and on this sort of form he’s peerless.
Mike Barnes
2002
Yokota is something of a musical phenomenon, a supremely gifted artist who transcends genres with ease and though prolific, continues to innovate and surpass himself. After the lush tones of 2000's Sakura and last year's wildly inventive Grinning Cat, he returns with an album partly inspired by the Japanese island of Yakushima and his weekly forays into the mountains that surround the suburb of Tokyo where he lives.
Fusing the percussive tones of xylophone, harp, berimbau, wood drums and the hypnotic bells of Gamelan, this album swells on a tide of rhythm, drones and chords hanging in the air like mist. He combines naive, playful melodies with orchestrated rhythms that owe some debt to Philip Glass, wielding space and silence as an
instrument in itself.
A master of dynamics, sudden melodies flower inside your ears, while atmospherics hover in the distance, whispering to make themselves known. The spiritual voices and flutes of Secret Garden suggest a musical quest, before chiming into life, revealing the fruits of inquisition. The ritualistic Red Swan sways with a hypnotic gait, triplet strings sawing back and forth against the bells, a magisterial vista reminiscent of a Kurosawa movie.
Echoing the sounds and sensations of nature that Yokota so obviously loves, The Boy and The Tree is an ambient work that shouts to be heard, a musical tapestry sewed with a magic thread.
Mat Anthony
2002
IT has become increasingly hard to succumb to techno music's onward march into the future of sound, because most of it - even the Aphex Twin's - seems to sound the same, and thus rather passe. Susumu Yokota is the exception that proves the rule.
When he first appeared in the early 1990s as Frankfurt-Tokyo Connection, he made bangin' trance like everyone else. He has since matured into a one-man ambient avant-garde via a series of magical, meditative albums which have been salivated over by everyone from Philip Glass to Radiohead. Among those in the know, The Boy and the Tree feels like something of a highbrow event, and deservedly so. Where, before, Yokota's music has always been centred around spellbindingly minimalist piano composition and portentous hi-tech atmospheres, this time he has changed the blueprint considerably. Inspired by walking amid the rampant natural wonders around Mount Fuji, the 41-year-old uses more organic, even ancient sounds - Red Swan is like a gamelan orchestra of his own virtual imagining - for an entrancing, deeply spiritual hour's listening. Yokota's message to techno conformists: the past is the new future.
Andrew Perry
October 2002
Woollen hatted folkies and Jarvis Cocker, it seems, aren’t the only ones discovering the joys of rugged pastoralism. Ambient sound collager Susumu Yokota is a recent rustic convert, too. Since moving to the suburbs of Tokyo two years ago, he reckons the panoramic calm of mountains and rivers now inform his once architecturally urban music. Much of his mercurial touch remains strong, but the supposed scent of damp grass and decomposing leaves are some way off. Less eerily frail than the deceptively beautiful ‘Magic Thread’ album, here Yokota utilizes oriental percussion harps and reverb guitars to fashion his most spiritually uplifting music to date. If the clatter clapping of ‘Plateau On Plateau’ sounds like a Hari Krishna rally, then that’s because it really does. Yet don’t let that irk your ears. ‘Fairy Link’ is a tumbling tapestry of wiry harp strings, rusty pot tappings and radiantly ethereal chants. Few can make such mathematically precise music sound like it’s beamed in from the heavens. Yokota may be getting back to earth, but his gossamer genius remains on a higher plane. 7/10
Neil Davenport
September 2002
This Is Yokota back in ambient territory, after his excursions into deep house,
And it’s his best work since Sakura. A hypnotic, Zen, yet not always tranquil album that loops what sound like very organic sound sources (natural found sounds and some traditional Japanese acoustic instruments), until there's an ever-so gradual accretion of tones and atmosphere. What at first seems like stillness soon starts to resonate, while what seems like random and arrhythmic percussion, is revealed as mere rhythmic complexity. For those who like to pay close attention to their background music, this is as good as it gets.
Lauren Phelan
September 2002
Yet another beautiful, ambient work from this acclaimed Japanese multi-tasker. The album’s about a journey through a rainforest – and, fittingly, it feels like a slow-tempo spiritual trip. Unique in mood, approach and coherency, it proves Yokata’s standing as a master of the imagination. ****
Tim Perry
September 2002
The hyper-productive Yokota-san allows a brief pause in his stream of deep house classics to make that ‘difficult’ album. But give this time and you’ll wonder why all music isn’t like this sparse collection of strange global sounds. Ancient and modern Yokota’s going down in history.
September 2002
"Yokota makes ambient music suffused with human emotion and an otherworldly charm. It's his deftness of touch and
remarkable ear for making the most lovely noise out of the weirdest of
samples that marks him out from the pack. He says this is the soundtrack to
his 'dream story' - listen to the celluloid unravel before your ears."
Kieran Wyatt
September 2002
Kate Wharton & Max Cole fire off some questions to Tokyo in the wake of the release of electronic, Susumu Yokota’s latest release on Leaf, ‘The Boy And The Tree’.
How has jazz influenced your music?
I wasn't always interested in jazz music. What I got interested in at first was 80's fake jazz.
After that, 90's ambient music started to involve jazz and I get more interested in jazz. While I was producing 'Sakura' I, was often listening to Return To Forever/Chick Corea.
Was ‘Naminote’ influenced by any particular jazz record?
Not particularly, but it was influenced by the psychedelic jazz which I create in my mind.
Have you always listened to Western more than Eastern music?
I really don't listen to music someone else has produced because I'm always listening to the music which I'm working on. I like Bolonese Gomelan and Indian music but I'm also into Western acoustic music. I often listen to house and jazz music as I also do dance music... DJ, that is. I think I'm listening to Western music more these days.
Are you interested in the discipline of traditional musician In Japan? Or in any particular traditional Japanese instrument?
I'm very interested in it, but it's hard to fuse it with my music. Kodo is easy to use for sampling.
Now I'm trying to use Gagoku .The problem is that the Gagoku sound and rhythms are harder to use, in comparison with Bolonese Gomelan.
I cannot read a music score and cannot play instruments well. However, all tracks of 'The Boy and The Tree' have my guitar and the guitar-noises I made. I'm now thinking about constructing the music in equilibrium with sampling, beats and my own guitar sound or voice, which makes a deep and stereophonic sound.
Do you think the effort of sampling and constructing work on a laptop is more lonesome than making music in the days when live interaction was key and musicians would be round each others houses jamming all night?
Although I think both of them have a pleasurable side to them, I've never felt lonely when I was making music by myself. Ideas and inspirations come irrespective of whether I jam with someone else or not.
'The Boy and the Tree' seems to involve more eastern and world music sounds than your previous albums, as in the bamboo, flute on ‘The Colour of Pomegranates’ and the strings and percussion on 'Red swan'. Are you moving away from pure electronic sounds towards more contrasting textures?
Since the concept of 'The Boy and The Tree' is huge trees, forests and natural energy, traditional world musics were the obvious choice. The natural mystic and the mystery of traditional world music are directly connected. I wanted to make the album more structural, beyond electronic sounds.
I love the piano on ‘King Dragonfly’. Do you play any instruements or do you prefer to sample?
The Boy and the Tree’ was inspired by time spent in the mountains near Tokyo. Composers often say that when they move from the city into more natural surroundings, they become inspired in a new way. Do you feel there is a connection between music and natural forms?
I've been away from the heart of Tokyo for three years. The natural surroundings have been giving me energy instead of information. My ideal lifestyle would be to spend half my time living in the heart of Tokyo and the other half in a place surrounded by nature.
What is your most essential music technology?
Having my own imaginative power. I'm very bad at computer or electronic equipment so it takes long time to get used to using technology. However if I have strong imaginative power for what I want to do, I can make the music I want.
Do you think house and techno is limited by its inability to transfer well to any situation except a club? Is this why you started to make albums that are more about home life rather than night life?
I think it is good to transfer well though different media - arts, films, or fashion - but I don't think it has to spread necessarily.
What part of a composition would you usually start with? Do you spend more time on the effects and perfecting the sound on a micro-level, or on arrangement and organising the sound structure?
It usually takes one year to produce an album. I work on other albums at the same time. At first I pick up samples and make a lot of phrases, then mix them up as sound little by little. Then I spend about three months to perfect the sound on a micro-level.
Who are your favourite musicians creating music now?
Although I don't have any favorite especially, I respect Vincent Gallo because he creates not only music but also films and paintings - almost all kinds of arts.
‘Lapis Lazuli’ is a stone referred to in many Buddhist texts, like the Lotus Sutra. Did you mean to refer to Buddhism or does this track’s name have a purely geological meaning?
Although it's the name of a stone referred to in Buddhist texts, I really like the sound of "lapis lazuli" and the color.
Are you inspired to make music/art by any particular books or philosophers?
Although I was interested in philosophy and sociology before, now I create naturally according to my identity which is built up though my experiences.
Kate Wharton
Max Cole
2002
Japanese producer Susumu Yokota is as productive as a team of sweat shop workers geared up on industrial strength angel dust. but despite his prolific output everything he releases is worth a listen. This, his latest album, sees Yokota return to the ambient sound he last explored on ‘Grinning Cat'. However, instead of merely serving up banal whale-shagging soundtracks. Yokota integrates organic. Ethereal sounds and ethnic influences into his arrangements. In the wrong hands this kind of 'crossover’ work could sound disastrously wrong, but as the Gamelan hum of ‘Plateau On Plateau', the hypnotic chants on 'Secret Garden' and the Dead Can Dance-meets-Cocteau Twins sound track of •’Beans' all demonstrate. Yokota is adept at effortlessly integrating these elements into his dreamy framework. ****
Robert Brophy
September 2002
Susumu Yokota isn't hiding anything on his latest release. Just as the title suggests, there's a definite wide-eyed appreciation of nature running throughout, to the degree that some of the sound samples even seem cliche. Also heavily utilized are a variety of Asian instruments - what sounds like live or sampled koto, zither, harps and bells. Together, these components yield very interesting results, and are probably why his series of ambient records has proven successful. "Live Echo" is sparse, yet surprisingly funky, and "Thread Leads to Heaven" finds serenity through a simple electronic melody-not a birdcall or choral sample to be found. "The Colour of Pomegranates" and "Grass, Tree and Stone" suggest a kind of East/West fusion, something like a less ambitious Tortoise project. Still, The Boy and the Tree comes off more sincere than premeditated.
Dan Sicko
Janurary 2002
Susumu Yokota has a distinguished fan base that includes Philip Glass and with every new project he receives raptuous praise. In essence, The Boy and The Tree is ambient music with brains. Inspired by the river and mountains close to his house in the suburbs of Tokyo and the island Yakushima in the south of Japan, Yokota’s music is infused with mystery and life. Using traditional instruments alongside high production techniques this album attains a timeless, ephemeral air. It is interesting to learn that Yokota says of the album it ‘is me, and this is my dream, story’.
Rebecca Heald
Japanese producer Susumu Yokota is one of the most prolific dance/electronic artists of ‘em all, and while he hasn’t been as productive in 2002 as in previous years, this new work more than compensates for his absence. Focusing predominantly on ambient textures, ‘The Boy’ manages to fuse traditional Asian and Oriental influence with an electronic interface. Normally such notions would have us running for the hills – anyone remember Deep Forest? - but here Yokota makes his amalgamation of tribal chants, Gamelan atonality and Cocteau Twin-informed ethereal passages sound nothing short of mesmerising. All other ambient artists should take a leaf from his book
8/10
August 2002
As the term chill out becomes ever more abused, Susuma Yokota returns to show how ambient music should be done, “I go to the mountains a few times a week. Walking among the big trees I can hear my heartbeat and also the sound of the earth echo,” explains the Japanese producer. Fragile yet intense, fluid yet angular, minimal yet complex, ‘The Boy and the Tree’ is a truly evocative union of nature and machine. From the Boards of Canada-style creepiness of ‘The Colour of Pomegranates’ to the ethereal hypnotics of ‘Fairy Link’, the stripped down minimalism of ‘Rose Necklace’ and the Eastern ambience of ‘Red Swan’, this is a breathtaking piece of electronic music.
Andy Thomas
September 2002
There aren’t many artists who can utter sentences like “nature gives me energy. Natural, wonderful power makes me refresh,” without sounding like a brainstorm in the Timotei marketing department. But the guileless, serene ambience of albums like ‘Sakura’ and ‘The Boy And The Tree’ has a rare ability to lead even the most hard-bitten cynics to gush similarly bile-free lines of their own. Starting out as a techno producer, Yokota released records on Harthouse in the early Nineties and continues to fire out deep dancefloor records at a prodigious rate today. “I’m most pleased when I’m making music, and I still have many new possibilities,” he says, sagely. Crazy but true: In 1993, Yokota was the first Japanese artist ever to play at the Berlin Love Parade. He didn’t do an ambient set.
Tom Mugridge
October 2002
The Boy and the Tree is jointly inspired by Yokota's experience of Yakushima Island (a world heritage site) and the anime Mononokehime, directed by Hayao Miyazaki. Yokota moves outside the house again, heading deep into an ambient glade. In the real world itself he has indeed relocated away from Tokyo’s nerve centre, getting slightly nearer to nature. This is readily apparent in the forest―like feeling that pervades the first few tracks, Yokota concerned with the steady accumulation of atmosphere, teeming with natural phenomena. He uses almost exclusively organic sound sources, but with an artificial slant imposed by the act of looping and layering. Slow‐ twang guitars are a popular choice,
floating into the clouds beside a panoply of small folk instruments, Flute whorls and pattering bamboo, koto (or kora?), zither, sitar, gongs, gamelan cascades or prepared piano, all used to form cyclic patterns of wonderment, weaving a scintillating lattice. As the disc progresses, its bass presence grows and repeated voices creep in, with later tunes like “Red Swan“ and “Future Tiger" developing the motion of a ceremonial procession, filled with handclaps and chanting, the density and intensity of Yokota’s loops increasing by the minute.
Martin Longley
2002
Impressive planet-straddling by Japanese ambience master.
Over the past four years, Susumu Yokota has emerged as a confusing presence in electronica circles: a technocrat who makes rather bland house records and frequently dazzling quasi-ambient ones. (I)The Boy And The Tree(I) is number six of the latter, contemplative strain, one purportedly influenced by walking in the mountains outside Tokyo. Actually, the vision conjured up is more of a man locked in a small room, blurring snapshots of a much wider world on his hard drive. Temple processions, African chants, echo-laden guitars, equatorial chatter, muezzins in neighbouring states, hurdy-gurdies and Liz Fraser-esque warblers all jostle for space in Yokota's compositions, but the clutter of global sounds is often more oppressive than expansive. There's nothing terribly original here - Eno & Byrne's (I)My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts(I) and Holger Czukay's ethnographic forgeries explored similar places, allbeit with cruder gear. Nevertheless, it's hard not to be enchanted by Yokota's dense, disorienting, exquisitely-judged work.
John Mulvey
2002
With more than a couple of albums under his belt (well approximately 25), one could be forgiven for thinking that Yokota
may have run out of ideas. However, that is not the case, and this new venture for The Leaf Label is another wonderful release from the Japanese genius. An album of textures, Thoughts, visions and soundscapes, ‘The Boy And The Tree’ is strikingly beautiful representation of Yokota’s fascination with nature. 'Live Echo' sees reverbing crashed metallic drums take centre stage, while attractive keys, growing guitars and heavily altered vocals add an extra dimension. ‘Secret Garden’ is an unspoilt hideaway known only to Yokota, and the place can be visualised courtesy of floated airy synths, refined Japanese keys, Medieval spiritual vocals and earth moving percussion. ‘Red Swan’ shows the influence of other parts of Asia on Yokota’s sound, as shaked bells, an elegant minor keyed melody and a pained siren invokes apparitions of a rustling far eastern market. 'Future Tiger' looks to India for its mazy melody, while intricate horns, screeching birds and praising vocals combine beguilingly well. Yokota is a true master of ambience, who thinks nothing of baring his soul and sharing intimate secrets with his listeners.
Jon Freer
2002
Susumu Yokota's modus operandi is to construct each of his albums around a specific mood and atmosphere; they're not concept albums as such (there is no lyrical narrative here), more
extended meditations on a theme. In this case, the boy of ‘The boy and The Tree’ is Yokota himself, and the tree is one of many on the Japanese island of Yakushima that are several thousand years old. As you might expect then, 'The Boy And The Tree is a highly personal. Deeply organic work that refuses to be classified as merely ‘ambient’. Yokota seems to have a third ear that allows him to hear the trees talking among themselves, the grass rubbing together as it grows, and the molecules of the air Expanding and contracting Over the course of the day, Then reacting these sounds through the media of electronics, percussion and found sound. Yokota’s work is constantly evolving and has now reached the state where it does not require your attention, it demands it; the places that Yokota can take the listener are inaccessible even to heavy users of psychotropic drugs.
Gillian Nash
October 2002
If you want to turn the "relax" knob to eleven, pick up the latest from Japanese wunderkind Susumu Yokota. You may remember him from the massive Grinning Cat album from a few years back. On his latest disc, The Boy and the Tree (Leaf), Yokota continues on the ambitronic tip, lulling the listener into an opiated dreamstate with organic percussive textures and melodic repetition. No wonder Philip Glass is all over his shit
December 2002
The world of Susuma Yokota is a mystical realm where timings are manufactured and inconsistencies stretch the boundaries of programming. Though technically inspiring, this is not a mechanical homage but clearly a product of observation, a reflection on nature where a chime caught by the wind performs a chaotic time signature. Innocent, resonating forces collide in an addictive manner that belie formal (Western) structure yet strike a deeply familiar chord – the very structure of our own consciousness. Susumu Yokota has created an atmosphere of unparalleled harmony. Philip Glass and Thomas Newman will doubtless be aware of this brilliant artist.
Crispin Turnkentine
2002
As Susumu says "The boy of The Boy And The Tree is me, and this is my dream story. There is an island called Yakushima in the south of Japan, which is designated as a world heritage site. It rains a lot there and there are many trees that are two or three thousand years old. It is a very mysterious island." What more can I say? Beautifully minimal, this album sets a dreamy atmosphere and a sense of spirituality. The music flows through chilled moods and vibrant dreams with elegance, it is almost classical in its composition. It is a touch of the orient with
simplistic drum beats and gentle chimes, in tune with nature and just a bit new age. Very pleasant.
Oriana
Issue 193-29
Of all the Susumu Yokota records Leaf have issued in recent years, this is the first not too be instantaneously hooky. Unlike his Sakura or Magic Thread albums, The Boy and The Tree isn’t powered by strong rhythmic grooves and this throws you at first. After spending some time with the album though, the compositions begin too come alive. They take shape and the beauty of the album is revealed. Pieces like ‘Fairy Link’ are perfect examples of this phenomena – the harp and gamelan percussion uniting perfectly too create a rich listening experience.
Laurence English
December 2002
Tsutsui Yoshiaki
2002
2002
Without wishing to go overboard, the master returns. With the only thing matching his sublime musical talent being his level of productivity (this is about his fifty-fourth album this year), Susumu Yokota returns from his recent house-based excursions for Exceptional for another instalment of sumptuous ambience on The Leaf Label. Effectively the follow up to last year’s ‘Grinning Cat’ (one of the best ambient LPs of 2001), Yokota translates the inspirations of his escapist trips to the Japanese island Yakushima and the mountains near his Tokyo home, into a transcendent experience. Utilising what sounds like traditional Japanese instrumentation, and some fascinatingly elusive vocal textures, Susumu Yokota yet again manages to make time stand still, and everything outside the confines of his music seem trivially irrelevant. A great follow-up to ‘Grinning Cat’ and, more importantly, proof that Yokota is one of Japan’s finest musicians.
Steve Nickolls
September 2002
A STRONG year for music filed under the rubric of ambient, world or contemporary. The finest CDs in these areas didn't so much rattle their cages as quietly dissolve and redraw genre boundaries in mesmerising fashion. The year started with the re-release in expanded form of the 1980s classic Pirates Choice by defunct Senegalese outfit Orchestra Baobab. It sold so well, the band re-formed to record the divine Specialist in All Styles, an equally gorgeous blend of old-style Cuban music, dance music and West African sensibility. In The Boy and the Tree Japan's Susumu Yokota perfected his Zen experiments in sampling and sound layering. The result was hi-tech studio music that evoked stone, feather and wood and
provided evidence that contemporary serious music and the popular music avant-garde occupy the same head space. The same could be claimed for Long Walk Home, Peter Gabriel's finely detailed and hypnotic score for the film Rabbit-Proof Fence. In Krishna Lila San Francisco's dj Cheb i Sabbah eschewed mixing high jinks to present often unadorned Indian classical songs of startling beauty, the occasional studio enhancements blissfully restrained. And the CD of the year? Anouar Brahem's Le Pas du Chat Nair, in which a trio of oud (Arabian lute), piano and accordion created a spellbinding blend of European Gypsy music, Arabian tradition, Argentinian new tango and Erik Satie's
Lynden Barber
December 2002
His last album the Grinning Cat won critical acclaim in the eletronica field and his latest release can only enhance his reputation as one of the most influential Japanese artists. Each track fills the ears with a bizarre range of ambient sounds from across the globe. Expect to hear Eastern style instrumentation with lead electric guitar all perfectly formed to make the opening piece The Colour Of Pomegranates of particular interest to devotees of this genre. Red Swan places soprano soaring voices with Tibetan style percussion in a heady mix yet this is no mismatch of styles. The following simplistic riff could be aimed at those under fives, but grows quite rapidly into a delightful adult instrumental 'threads Leads To Heaven that gets pleasantly stuck in the mind. I don't expect MOR fans to find any comfort in these dozen abstract collages, but those putting prejudices aside will soon appreciate the many musical levels expressed within the sounds. I suppose its a roundabout way of saying that it takes time to fully appreciate the work of any masterpiece and Yokota has created another one.
Philly
Issue 41
For those that get to know Susumu Yokota at this point in time, the surprise - can not be much bigger. Susumu Yokota released many excellent records under different monikers and offering different
styles during the last ten years.
It all started when the German trancelord Sven Vath offered him a contract with Eye- O back in 1992. But things only accelerated after this. At least one album saw the light every year, and every time Susumu Yokota surprised with a different approach. As Prism he released two deep house albums, Cat, Mouse and Me was a more break-beat-inclined album. After this Yokota took time to create two more experimental works entitled Magic Thread and 'Image 1983-1998, which came out on his own label Skintone. His mainstream album, cunningly entitled 1999, foreshadowed much of the retro disco now kicking off in the UK whilst the critically acclaimed 'Sakura' revealed him to also be an ambient composer with his own singular vision.
The Boy and The Three is Yokota's eight release for The Leaf label since 1999. And again this Japanese musician offers proof of his talent. His approach heads off very
2002
The Boy & The Tree is Yokota' s eleventh album in eight years. The man is not only one of the most prolific musicians of his generation, but also without a doubt one of the most imaginative. He has equally made his mark playing techno, ambient, jazz and electronica, always taking his audience by surprise while buiIding a surprisingly consistent piece of work, making him one of the most respected composers around. Yokota's follow up to last year's blissful Grinning Cat and similarly excellent Will is yet another fascinating recording. Contrasted and impressionist, The Boy & The Tree is a delightful colIection of radically atmospheric compositions, built around ephemeral sonic trances, in the tribal sense of the word. From the opening moments of The Colour Of Pomegranates to the closing bars of Blood & Snow, Yokota delves into ethnic sonorities, using traditional Oriental percussions and instruments combined with founds sounds to focus on the most fragile aspects of music and life and create one of the most haunting pieces of music heard in recent times.
Yokota admits a certain fascination for nature, particularly feeding on the mystery of the island of Yakushima, a designated world heritage site home to hundreds of secular trees, situated in the south of Japan.
He also names one of the most successful animated films in Japan history, Mononokehime, a mystical tale depicting the battle between animal gods, as a source of inspiration for The Boy & The Tree. Yokota' s delicate compositions resound with spiritual references. Chimes, prayers and lamentations all contribute to the hypnotic effect of this record, while the tone of the flutes, tables and stings, intrinsic unworldly elements in the constructions, deflects the electronic characteristic of the record by injecting some vital energy at the heart of each track.
Ethereal voices are integrated in the lush soundscapes in astonishing fashion, never really being prominent, yet exercising an incontestable pressure on the music by stressing the ephemeral nature of life. Yokota' s mastery at carefully organizing sounds together and crafting intriguing melodies is more obvious here than on any of his previous releases. It seems as if each component has a dedicated role to play, affecting the general mood of the listener while not entirely connecting with the physicality of its source, be it human. Yokota has perhaps produced with this album his most intimate work. Moreover, perhaps will it prove to be too intricate and intense for some. There is no doubt however that The Boy & The Tree is his most soulful and best record to date. A must.
Like a long, slow walk through a cool forest or an afternoon snoozing in the grass watching clouds, Susumu Yokota’s The Boy and The Tree LP is a mystical, earthy and folksy Japanese ambient journey.
Magic Thread, Sakura and last year’s Grinning Cat albums have earnt Yokota a special place in people’s collections all over the world, making him the Leaf label’s biggest selling artist. Brian Eno and Radiohead are said to be fans. The Wire named Sakura album of the year and he has supported Philip Glass in concert. It’s certainly encouraging to see people’s desire for ambient music extend past the recent glut of generic Ibiza chill out compilations.
Yokota would be better known by some for his house production. German trance ‘meister’ Sven Vath released Yokota’s first house album on Eye-Q in 1992. There have been innumerable compilation appearances and remixes, some under such curious aliases as Ringo, Prism and Sonicsufi. But despite the growing popularity of his beatless releases, Yokota has no intention of giving up house. ‘I’m still producing house and want to continue for a long time,’ says Yokota. ‘It feels natural for me to do both dance and ambient, it’s a balance that exists within me.’
Following in the footsteps of thousands of years of Japanese folk music, Yokota’s ambient output captures the serene natural beauty of his homeland.
Having recently moved from the city, Yokota now visits the mountainside ‘a few times a week’, travelling from his home in the Tokyo suburbs. ‘The smell of grass and trees, the air in the woods makes my mind clear’, says Yokota, ‘and it gives good effects for making music. Walking amongst the big trees, I can hear my heartbeat and the echoes of the earth.’Yokota is a man with his fingers in the soil, as much as on the keyboard.
Equally inspiring for Yokota on his The Boy and The Tree, was cult anime film Mononokehime, which explores the ‘beautiful thing’ that happens when in-tune humans meet the raging gods of nature.
‘I’m trying to achieve that beautiful thing. There is always fear, rage, and ugliness existing behind beauty. I have been trying to express ki-do-ai-raku (the four emotions; joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness) through music. I would like to express even one’s hidden emotion with reality. It’s my eternal goal.’
Somehow Yokota does succeed in capturing the unseen, the mystical, the ‘ugliness behind beauty’. The Boy and The Tree features moments of extreme fluid dreaminess, with sounds that seem to echo back to you from a far off mountain.
In other moments the building rhythms and chanting are unsettling and full of dread. The combination of sampled African and Asian voices, traditional string and wind instruments, combined with Yokota’s own beats and guitar playing do not fail to express ‘the origin, root, and hidden parts of nature and humans,’ as well as sounding fantastic.
In many ways The Boy and The Tree could be likened to a soundtrack to a Baraka-style film on Japan. This filmic quality is something Yokota would be very interested in perusing. ‘I want to work on a film soundtrack very much,’confirms Yokota. ‘I would like to work with Jean Pierre Jeunet and Vinsent Giaro and if it’s possible, to work with an old director, Parajdanov. As I always produce my album like a film soundtrack, I dream that a film which has my all soundtrack music will be produced.’ However The Boy and The Tree is so evocative of Yokota’s landscapes you will be able to clearly imagine your own film.
So get yourself a big nori roll. Light up the incense. Assume the lotus position. Put the headphones on and be ready for a spiritual musical experience.
Bim Ricketson
December 2002