The news of the death of Ryuichi Sakamoto on Sunday, March 2, at the age of 71, was not the most surprising, since he himself prepared us by declaring the degenerative course of the disease that struck him in the intestines. In short, he prepared us for his death. It is hard, of course, to come to terms with the fact that the great artist no longer shares oxygen with us…

Born in Tokyo in 1952, he formed the band Yellow Magic Orchestra in the late 1970s, combining elements of electronic music, regular percussion, electric bass, sounds from electronic games of the day, extensive use of the innovative Roland TR 808 drum machine, and a parody of Western image of the Land of the Rising Sun: covers of Maoist aesthetics, references to the powerful Japanese car industry and strange arrangements of Beatles songs and Martin Denny’s exotic hymns. Almost the entire electro-pop scene of the 80s was based on the YMO-Kraftwerk-Yello triptych. The Yellow Magic Orchestra were superstars back home, but Sakamoto didn’t want to be a pop star. He turned the page, met with commercial recognition with award-winning soundtracks that were also loved in our country, but his priority now became the ultimate artistic take-off: Sakamoto literally did everything, equating the exemplary with the term “crossover”. Some examples:

• Through his personal recordings, he has convinced prominent personalities from across the world’s music scene to work together under his direction. Where exactly do you rate records featuring Iggy Pop with Bill Lasswell and Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys with Senegalese Youssou N’Dour?

• Wrote music for the 1992 Olympic Games in Barcelona, ​​pieces for a fashion show by designer Yohji Yamamoto, an industrial symphony in four parts (“Sorrow – Anger – Prayer – Atonement”) called “Strife”, composed his first opera (“Audio Life ” , 2000) for the 120th anniversary of the prestigious newspaper Asahi Shimbun, in 2008 Krug Champagne commissioned him to compose music “inspired by his bubbles”, took his favorite Japanese children’s fairy tale “PeachBoy”, he wrote brand new music inspired by it and convinced actress Sigourney Weaver do the narration.

• When the Yellow Magic Orchestra briefly reunited in 1993, they used samples from songwriters…William Gibson and William Burroughs for vocals!

“That’s what I strive for in my music. To be able to fly in space. And take the time.”

• In 2001, after meeting Scotsman Chris Moon, who lost his leg after stepping on a forgotten mine in Mozambique, he took the initiative to raise public awareness about the huge problem of mines in areas of Korea, India, Tibet, Bosnia and Angola, inviting musicians from all over the world to collaborate with him in the NML (No More Goldmine) project. He did well and convinced Japan members, Brian Eno, Kraftwerk, DJ Krush, Cyndi Lauper and many more!

• After all this, he got bored again and decided to turn to the avant-garde, to the younger, experimental minimalists, with his latest and productive collaboration with Alba Noto from Germany.

I was fortunate enough to interview him on behalf of the “Symbol” insert of the “Investor” newspaper in 1996. I remember him saying this: “I’ve been listening to a lot of bossa nova lately. I like. But obviously I can’t imagine myself listening to just one type of music. This is the magic of music, its diversity. Today bossa nova, tomorrow something orchestral, in the future something electronic again, in between traditional, acoustic music, always a bit of jazz… Sometimes I travel a lot and don’t live in one place all the time, but if , for example, most people, I constantly lived in my hometown, I again traveled through music. You Greeks know this well: you have Vangelis, a citizen of the world. His music can be heard on a skyscraper in Tokyo, on a bridge in New York, outdoors in Rio, and it suits everyone. However, at the same time, she never ceases to be Greek. It’s obviously not easy to achieve this, but that’s what I strive for in my music. To be able to fly in space. And take the time.”

• In 2018, at his favorite Japanese restaurant Kajitsu in the Manhattan area, Sakamoto called on Chef Hiroki Onto. He, surprised, as he knew how pleased his countryman was with the food, went up to his table. “We have a problem,” Sakamoto told him. “I mean music. I can’t stand it. My problem is not volume, but that it has no meaning, it does not fit in with the space, or with the approach to food, or with colors, or with decoration nor with the logic of the restaurant. Since I come often and do not want to stop coming, I would like to ask you to allow me to choose music from now on. “The chef agreed, Sakamoto got to work and … you can search his playlists on the Internet as “Kajitsu playlists”.

Later, when The New York Times asked him about it, he put it this way: “I don’t usually complain about music in public places. I came to the conclusion that this is usually annoying and shows that no one has bothered to fiddle with the parameters that come from the speakers. So I’m used to just refusing. But I didn’t want to deprive myself of the pleasure of Kajitsu. His food had the beauty of Katsura Rikyu (Kyoto Palace, the epitome of wabi-sabi aesthetic), but his music was like… Trump Tower!”

Piano earthquake and tsunami, reminiscent of the ephemerality of life

• As recorded in the documentary Ryuichi Sakamoto: Koda, based on filmmaker Steven Sible, who spent five years with the honored man, Sakamoto was shocked by the devastating earthquake and tsunami that hit northeast Japan in March 2011. affected areas, and in one school he found a damaged piano. He ordered that it be pulled out and sent for repairs to be in working order but not fully repaired. He wanted to bear the traces of the damage done. He even programmed an automatic way to press keys based on seismic vibrations recorded by seismographs around the world. He called this instrument “Tsunami Piano” and also used it on the track “Zure” from his 2017 album “async”. In the documentary, we hear him say, “This piano reminds us of the ephemeral element of life.”

On July 1, 1996, he appeared in Herodium. It was a full moon that night, and Sakamoto played in an apparent ecstasy.

We have modern culture, science, technology. But everything is so fragile – we must not forget about it. Unfortunately, however, disasters come and remind us of this. And it’s a shock we never get over. And the problem is that until we digest it, we will probably forget again. But I think that we should constantly think about it. That is why I want this particular piano to remain, so that it is not lost, so that it reminds us of it … “.

• It was July 1, 1996 when Sakamoto appeared at Herodium: himself on the piano, accompanied by cello and violin. There was a full moon that night, Sakamoto was clearly delighted with what he was playing in this hall, and the fascinated audience listened to wonderful melodies, exemplary performance, seeing in the background a magical moon, sometimes hidden by clouds, and sometimes “torn apart” by clouds. facade of her chambers. At almost the end of every part, Sakamoto would look up, trying to fix in his mind a perfect “shot” of the moon, centered over the “ancient rocks”. At the end he monologues: “Come on, show yourself!”.