I’m still processing the death of Maestro Ryūichi Sakamoto. What an influential composer, musician, activist, intellectual! To me, Mr. Sakamoto was capable of everything. His output speaks for itself.
I never had a chance to see him live in concert. For one reason or another, I wasn’t able to see him perform. Now, that’s one big regret that will haunt me forever — having not shared the sacred space of a live performance with Ryūichi.
One of my favourite albums of his is Async (2017). I find it to be a perfect conjuring of sound and emotion. It was written and recorded soon after after his recovery from throat cancer. One of the tracks, I think is very special — fullmoon. I would say it’s the real centerpiece of the record. The song opens with author Paul Bowles reading an excerpt from his book The Sheltering Sky (that went on to become a film directed by Bernardo Bertolucci, featuring an iconic soundtrack composed by Sakamoto). The excerpt gets repeated throughout the song in different languages. Bertolucci himself reads it in Italian at the very end. The first time I listened to the piece, I was so impressed. It definitely stayed with me.
I have recently watched an interview with Sakamoto from around the time the album was released. At one point, he asks the interviewer: «Have you seen the full moon 20 times?» to which the interviewer responds: «This will encourage me to do so». Then Sakamoto adds: «This makes you feel that way. Makes you regret not having seen the full moon, doesn’t it?».
It’s true. We take so many things for granted. I now have a habit of looking up at the sky every night, when I take the trash out. It’s one small mundane gesture I do every day, yet I can give it some special significance by lifting my eyes up and taking a look at what lies above. I’m stunned every time. And whenever I see the full moon, I think about this song and Maestro Ryūichi Sakamoto.
“Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times. And a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood. Some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty, and yet it all seems limitless.”
