「iLL」と一致するもの

うー、午前3時間の試合は生活のリズムが狂いますなー。しかし、泣いても笑っても今週までです。
で、ロシアといえば、じつは今週から来週にかけて、モスクワをベースに活動しているプロデューサー／DJ／演奏家／ヴォーカリスト、ケイト・シロノソヴァによるソロ・プロジェクトKate NVが単独としては初の来日ツアーをしています。

2016年に〈Orange Milk Records〉からリリースしたファースト・アルバム『BINASU』がシンセ・ポップ傑作として各所で絶賛され、その類い稀なるセンスは現代エクスペリメンタル・ミュージック・シーンの最先鋭レーベル、 〈RVNG Intl.〉の目にとまり、契約を果たし、ぐっとミニマルなエレクトロニック～アンビエント・ミュージックへアプローチしたセカンド・アルバム『для FOR』を6月に発売予定。さらにはAngel Deradoorianとの共作でも注目を集める中、絶好のタイミングでの来日となります。

今回の来日公演では、シンセポップ的な『BINASU』セット、ミニマル〜アンビエント寄りの『RVNG』セットの両方を披露する予定です。是非ご来場ください。


https://www.artuniongroup.co.jp/plancha/top/news/kate-nv-japan-tour-2018/





PLANCHA 10th Anniversary Vol.2

KATE NV JAPAN TOUR 2018

7/16(月・祝): 大阪 @SOCORE FACTORY (BINASU / RVNG mix set)
7/19(木): 東京 @KATA (RVNG set)
7/20(金): 東京 @KATA (BINASU set)
7/21(土): 新潟 @木揚場教会 (BINASU / RVNG mix set)



 

大阪公演
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Osaka Supported by POW




日程：2018年7月16日(月・祝)
時間：開演/16:00
会場：大阪 @SOCORE FACTORY [https://socorefactory.com]
料金：前売2,500円(1ドリンク込) / 当日3,000円(1ドリンク込)

LIVE：
Kate NV [BINASU / RVNG mix set]
テンテンコ
CVN

DJ：
BIOMAN
souj
miharu
POW (zico, BABY)

※チケット予約は『POW 前売り予約フォーム』からご予約が出来ます
【https://goo.gl/forms/TN3VpYTumsyQHTU42】
お名前、メールアドレス、枚数をご記入のうえ送信ボタンを押してください。

主催：POW
https://popowpowpow.tumblr.com/


 

東京公演①
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Tokyo Day 1 [RVNG set]



日程：2018年7月19日(木)
時間：開場 19:00 / 開演 19:30
会場：恵比寿 @KATA [https://kata-gallery.net/]
料金：前売3,000円(別途1ドリンク代) / 当日3,500円(別途1ドリンク代)
(Day 2にもご来場の方は500円のキャッシュバック）

LIVE：
Kate NV [RVNG set]
dip in the pool (Special Guest)
角銅真実

DJ：
Shhhhh

主催：PLANCHA


 

東京公演②
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Tokyo Day 2 [BINASU set]



日程：2018年7月20日(金)
時間：開場 19:00 / 開演 19:30
会場：恵比寿 @KATA [https://kata-gallery.net/]
料金：前売3,000円(別途1ドリンク代) / 当日3,500円(別途1ドリンク代)
(Day 1にもご来場の方は500円のキャッシュバック）

LIVE：
Kate NV [BINASU set]
Aya Gloomy
emamouse

DJ：
青野賢一（BEAMS RECORDS)


主催：PLANCHA


 

新潟公演

experimental room #28
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Niigata



日程：2018年7月21日（土）
時間：開場 17:00 / 開演 17:30
会場：木揚場教会（新潟市中央区礎町通上一ノ町1957／TEL 025-229-1870)
料金：前売 3000円／当日3500円／県外2500円／18才以下無料

LIVE:
Kate NV [BINASU / RVNG mix set]
NYANTORA
LIVING ROOM

DJ:
IXALODS

SHOP:
OOHATA COFFEE

◯前売券メール予約ご希望の方は件名を
「7/21チケット予約」としてinfo@experimentalrooms.comまでご氏名・枚数をお送り下さい。

主催：experimental rooms
https://www.experimentalrooms.com
info@experimentalrooms.com

 


KATE NV：
ロシアはモスクワをベースに活動しているプロデューサー／DJ／演奏家／ヴォーカリスト、ケイト・シロノソヴァによるソロ・プロジェクト。元々はSonic YouthやDinosaur Jr.などに影響を受けたオルタナティヴ・ロック〜ポストパンク・バンド、Glintshakeのヴォーカルとして活動。また、同時に20世紀のクラシカルなミュージシャン達とCornelius Cardewのアイデアとアヴァンギャルドなコンポーズを再構築するMoscow Scratch Orchestraのメンバーでもある。それらと平行してソロとしてNVを始動させ、2014年にジャパニーズ・ポップスやニュージャックスウィング、90’s R&Bなどの影響を感じさせるEP『Pink Jungle』を発表し注目を集め、同年、Red Bull Music Academy Tokyoで初来日を果たす。2016年に待望のソロ・デビュー・フル・アルバム『Binasu』を2016年にGiant ClawとSeth Graham主宰の重要レーベル、Orange Milkからファースト・アルバム『BINASU』をリリース。各所で絶賛され、世界各国をライヴで飛び回る。その才能はエクスペリメンタル・ミュージック・シーンの最先鋭レーベルであるブリルックリンのRVNG Intl.の目にとまり、契約を果たし、同レーベルからセカンド・アルバム『для FOR』のリリースが決定した。

Soundcloud
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
YouTube




Artist: Kate NV
Title: для FOR
Cat#: ARTPL-104
Format: CD / Digital

※解説：館脇悠介
※日本のみでCD化
※ボーナス・トラック：食品まつり a.k.a foodman Remix収録

Release Date: 2018.06.15 ※日本先行発売
Price(CD): 2,000 yen + 税

ロシアはモスクワをベースに活動する才女Kate Shilonosova（ケイト・シロノソヴァ）によるソロ・プロジェクトが名義をNVからKate NVに変更し、エクスペリメンタル・ミュージック・シーンの最先鋭レーベルであるブリルックリンのRVNG Intl.に移籍しての新作『для FOR』を完成。

more info

 


Artist: NV
Title: Binasu
Cat#: ARTPL-081
Format: CD
解説: Dirty Dirt
※歌詞・対訳付き
※日本のみでCD化
※ボーナス・トラック2曲収録

Release Date: 2016.11.02 ※タワーレコード先行(10/19)発売
Price(CD): 1,900 yen + 税

ロシア発！ポストGrimes的シンセポップ超新星NVが遂に日本デビュー！
ボーナス・トラックにDeradoorianとの共演曲「Konicchiwaa (ft. Deradoorian)」収録！

more info

 

大阪公演出演者

 


テンテンコ：

1990年8月27日生まれ。北海道出身。身長142cm。 2013年BiSに加入し、2014年の解散とともにフリーランスとして活動を始める。 2016年にTOY’S FACTORY / MIYA TERRACEとマネージメント契約。 「90年代からの日本の”インディー霊”を全て背負っているといっても過言ではない、ヴァリエーションに富んだアヴァンギャルド表現者」と人は彼女を評し、オーバーグランドとアンダーグランドを自由に行き来し、朝から真夜中まで型にはまらない聖域なき活動を行っている。

WEB : https://tentenko.com
Twitter : https://twitter.com/tentenko_ooo?lang=ja
Blog : https://tentenko142.blogspot.com

 


CVN：

Grey Matter Archives主宰

Orange Milk, Where To Now?, Angoisse, CNDMM, Solitude Solutionsなどから作品をリリース

https://greymatterarchives.club/
Soundcloud : https://soundcloud.com/cvntrack

 


BIOMAN：

奈良県出身、大阪市在住。DJ、デザイナー、イラストレーター。音楽関係を中心にデザイン及びアートワークを多数手掛ける。DJではアートプログラムからクラブイベントまで幅広い分野に出演。DJ集団、風工房’98の一員でもある。所属する“青春ビザールディスコバンド”neco眠るではシンセサイザーを担当、2014年に発売された2ndアルバム『BOY』ではメインコンポーザー及びジャケットデザイン・ディレクションを務める。2015年にはイラストレーターの沖真秀との二人展「赤ちあん」を開催。

BIOMAN info : https://bio-man.net
Soundcloud : https://soundcloud.com/bio_man
Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/bio.man.37

 


souj：

dark jinja主宰

Soundcloud : https://soundcloud.com/user-656605415

 


miharu：

京都市在住20歳。幼少期より音楽に親しむ。高校生の時に作った和モノセレクト集「和モノ high school mellow」や「日本メロウ大学」がネットレーベルAno(t)raksより配信。現在は「Light Mellow West」「木菟燈籠」「City」等に出演し、関西を中心に活動している。

Twitter : https://twitter.com/rinpa1120 

 

東京公演①出演者

 


dip in the pool:

1983年に作/編曲を担当する木村達司（track）と、作詞担当の甲田益也子（vo）が結成したデュオ。独特の音楽センスとファッショナブルなヴィジュアルが話題を呼び、86年にイギリスはROUGH TRADEよりデビュー。国内では86年MOON RECORD（現在はワーナーミュージック内のレーベル）よりデビューアルバムをリリース。過去にレコーディング参加したミュージシャンは、佐久間正英、清水靖晃,、窪田晴男、富家哲、トニー・レヴィン、ミノ・シネル、モーガン・フィッシャー、ピーター・シェラー（アンビシャス・ラバーズ）、といった個性豊かな実力者ばかりであった。
マイペースな活動と並行して、甲田益也子が89年に映画『ファンシイダンス』で役者としてもデビューし、映画『白痴』では主演をつとめた。木村達司は他アーティストのプローデュース、アレンジやCM、映画音楽制作等、個々の活動も多彩に展開している。
一時期の活動休止を経て2011年に本格的に再始動、14年ぶりになるアルバム「brown eyes」をリリース。
2013年には木村達司がモーガン・フィッシャー、安田寿之と共にアンビエント・エレクトロニカ・アルバム「Portmanteau」をリリース。甲田益也子がゲストボーカルとして4曲参加している。
2015年1月に伊藤ゴロー、古川初穂らをゲストに迎えた10枚目のアルバム『HIGHWIRE WALKER』をリリース。
2016年にアムステルダムに本拠を置き世界中に多くのファンを擁する復刻レコード専門レーベルMusic From Memoryから89年に発表した「On Retinae」が12 inch・シングルとしてリイシューされ世界的に再評価される。
2017年にはアメリカのアンビエント・デュオVisible Cloaksからの依頼を受けシングルを共作リリースし、来日イベントでは共演も果たしている。
2018年６月には初のオーストラリア・ツアーを行う。

https://dipinthepool.com

 
photo by Tatsuya Hirota
角銅真実：

音楽家 打楽器奏者
マリンバをはじめとする色々な打楽器、自身の声、身の回りの気になるあらゆるものを用いて、インスタレーションやアートプロジェクトでの制作、ダンスや映像作品、CMへの楽曲提供、制作など作家としての自由な表現活動を国内外で展開中。
2017年Basic functionより初のソロアルバム”時間の上に夢が飛んでいる”を発表。ドラマーの石若駿のEP”Song book1,2”ともに歌詞と歌唱で参加。
また、2016年よりバンドceroのパーカッション・コーラスでのライブサポートやアルバム制作に関わるほか、
2018年ポーランド ワルシャワ のKrolikarnia 美術館で展示されたインスタレーション形式の映画、Square/Karolina Bregla の音楽を担当した。

https://manamikakudo.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/kakudouma

 


Shhhhh  (El Folclore Paradox)：

DJ/東京出身。オリジナルなワールドミュージック/伝統伝承の発掘活動。フロアでは民族音楽から最新の電子音楽全般を操るフリースタイル・グルーヴを発明。
13年に発表したオフィシャルミックスCD、『EL FOLCLORE PARADOX』のコンセプトを発展させた同名レーベルを2017年から始動し、南米からNicola Cruz、DJ Spaniolらを招聘。ブラジルのパーティ/アートコレクティブ集団、VoodoohopのコンピレーションLP『Voodoohop Entropia 1.5』のプロデュースなど。
dublab.jpのレギュラーや、オトナとコドモのニュー・サマー・キャンプ”NU VILLAGE”のオーガナイズチーム。
ライナーノーツ、ディスクレビューなど執筆活動やジャンルを跨いだ海外アーティストとの共演や招聘活動のサポート。
全国各地のカルト野外パーティー/奇祭からフェス。はたまた町の酒場で幅広く活動中。

https://soundcloud.com/shhhhhsunhouse
https://twitter.com/shhhhhsunhouse
https://www.facebook.com/kanekosunhouse

 

東京公演②出演者

 


Aya Gloomy：

Aya Gloomy（アヤ・グルーミー）1994年生まれ、 東京都出身。 高校生の頃から曲を作り始め、 作詞作曲アートワーク全て自身で行っている。

2017年2月、 初のデビューEP『Ennui Ground』を原宿のレコード・レーベル BIG LOVE Records の新レーベル「STBO Records」からリリースした。

2018年4月25日にファースト・アルバム『陸の孤島/RIKU NO KOTŌ』を発売。

https://twitter.com/aya_gloomy
https://soundcloud.com/ayagloomy

 


emamouse：

現代アート的電波アイドル風ハードコア調シンガー・トラックメイカー。
現実逃避で没入したゲームの世界（仮想空間）を、仮装することで現実世界とアイデンティファイしている。
つまり皮膚という設定のマスクを被って2015年よりLIVE活動を開始。自身をモチーフとしたイラストレーションや、実際には無いゲームのサウンドトラックを制作。
Psalmus Diuersae、Visual Disturbances、Gauss PDF等のレーベルから音源をリリース。
2018年、NZのトラックメイカーyeongrakの曲をRemixしたアルバムをQuantum Nativesからリリース。同作にてTiny Mix TapesのEUREKAを獲得。

https://emamouse.bandcamp.com/
https://twitter.com/emamouse

 


青野賢一（BEAMS RECORDS)：

個人のソフト力を主に社外のクライアント・ワークに生かす「ビームス創造研究所」に所属するクリエイティブディレクター。音楽部門〈ビームス レコーズ〉のディレクターも務める。また、ファッション、音楽、映画、美術、食といった文化全般を横断的に論ずる文筆家としても活躍。『CREA』（文藝春秋）、『ミセス』（文化出版局）などに連載を持つ。DJとしては1987年より活動開始。現在のクラブでのレギュラーイベントは山崎真央、ANGELYUKA（水原佑果）、最高の夏と行っている「SUNDAY DISCO SESSION 日曜日が待ち遠しい！」（青山zero）。

https://twitter.com/kenichi_aono

 
 
 

新潟出演者

 


Nyantora：

ナカコーのアンビエント・プロジェクト「Nyantora」。ナカコーの中で最長キャリアのプロジェクト。2001年、「９９－００」（2001年5月9日）をリリース。その後、「COSMOS」（2003年4月2日）、「夜を忘れなさい/97-03」（2006年1月27日）、「この作品はフェードインフェードアウトで構成されています 音があらわれては消えるその繰り返しただそれだけ」 （2009年12月1日）、「White EP」（2011年5月18日）、「duenn feat. Nyantora」（2012年1月12日）をリリース。そして、完全受注版「High Strangeness」（2013年10月30日）をリリースした。コンスタントにリリースをしていたものの、特にライブ活動はなかった。しかし、2014年6月にプライベートでも親交のあるduenn氏のイベントより、待望のライブ活動をスタートさせた。長きにわたり多種多様な音楽を作リ出すナカコーの、音響に精通した世界観が遂に体感できるようになった。FUJI ROCK、RISING SUN ROCK FESTIVAL、OTO TO TABIなどのフェスや、トリエンナーレ、更にはロック・アーティストとの対バンまで幅広く出演している。また、Nyantora+duennのライブ音源が日本人としては、前人未到のベルギーのエクスペリメンタル・レーベル『Entr’acte』からリリースされるなど、海外でも評価がひろがり始めている。そして2018年6月20日Nyantoraとしては、7年振りとなる全国流通版のCD「マイオリルヒト」を発売する。

KOJI NAKAMURA
KOJI NAKAMURA soundcloud
MELTINTO (JP label)
SLOWDOWN (JP label)
ENTR’ACTE (BE label)
DUENN (JP label)
NOON (JP label)
SUPAERCAR
LAMA

 


Living Room：

Tatsuya Saitoによるソロプロジェクト。主に現行のエレクトロニックミュージックに影響を受け、2015年より活動。ジャパンレーベル「Solitude Solutions」のコンピレーションアルバムに参加。DJとしても活動。

LIVING ROOM soundcloud
SOLITUDE SOLUTIONS (JP label)

 


Ixalods：

国内外の先鋭的なアーティストを招聘し、アート・エキシビションやクラブ・イベントなどを行うイベント・プロジェクト、red race riot!を主宰し、またDJとしても活動するjacob（ヤコブ）と、電子音響＋映像ユニットのmikkyozとしての展示やパフォーマンス、またソロとしてもライヴやDJを行うle（レ）のふたりによるDJユニット。

RED RACE RIOT!
MIKKYOZ

Interview with JACOB
Interview with MIKKYOZ

　シンガーソングライターとは因果な生き方だと、『ゴッズ・フェイヴァリット・カスタマー』を聴いているとつくづく思う。1曲め、哀愁に満ちたフォーク・ナンバー“Hangout at The Gallows”、アンサンブルが激しくなるとジョシュ・ティルマンは朗々と歌い上げる。「きみにとって政治とは？　宗教とは？　きみは何を摂取し、何を生きる理由にしているのか？」──この問いにすぐ答えられる人間などめったにいないだろう（いたとしたら、そんな奴はちょっと信用できない）。だがティルマンは、ほかの多くのミュージシャンやシンガーと同じように、これに似たような質問をインタヴューと称して受け続けてきたのだろう。内面や思想、社会や政治に対する見解からプライヴェートに至るまで──自らのもっとも内側にあるものさえを、売り渡して生きていくということ。本作はソングライターという特異な人生を選んだ自分を描いたセルフ・ポートレイトであり、と同時に、それを商品としてパッケージしたエンターテインメントである。悩ましげに頭を抱えるジャケットの彼の姿はポーズなのか？　リアルなのか？　ティルマンはわたしたちリスナーがそんな下世話な興味を抱く生き物であることをよく知っている。

　ビリー・ジョエル、エルトン・ジョン、キャット・スティーヴンスといった70年代のヒット・チャートを席巻したシンガーたちを臆せずに参照し、その叙情的なバラッド群をアメリカのショウビズとコメディ文化でくるんでポップ・スターとなったファーザー・ジョン・ミスティ（いまやビヨンセやラナ・デル・レイのコラボレイターである）。「リアル」な態度が要求されがちなソングライター界にあって彼のトリックスター性はつねに異端だったし、それでこそ輝いていたとも言える。いっぽうで彼の本心（と感じられる言葉）を綴ったラヴ・ソングもまた絶品で、その絶妙なバランス、歌におけるスリリングな駆け引きこそが聴きどころであった。ところが『ゴッズ・フェイヴァリット・カスタマー』では、そうしたバランスがこれまでとはまた違ったものになっている。
　アメリカと世界の混乱を黙示録的に俯瞰的に描いた前作にして大作『ピュア・コメディ』とは対照的に、ぐっとパーソナルに内省に傾いたとされる本作。収録時間も前作の半分ほどに近いコンパクトなものだ。ファーザー・ジョン・ミスティという「キャラクター」ではなくジョシュ・ティルマンそのひとに迫ったものであると、その評価は間違っていないだろう。だがまずは2曲め、思いきり自己言及する“Mr. Tillman”を聴いてみよう。サイケ・フォーク風のサウンドに合わせたおどけた調子の歌い回しが愉しく、ティルマンが実際にしていたというホテル生活をコンシェルジュから「ティルマン様」に向けた語りとして歌詞にしたこの曲、最初のヴァースをそのまま引用したい。「ティルマン様、またのお越しをありがとうございます。チェックインの前に未決済のお支払いをご精算いただければと。ええと、こちら、ミニバーの冷蔵庫内にパスポートをお忘れになってました。また伝言によりますと、写真は本人のものではないようです」……。大笑いである。すでに伝えられている通り、これは妻エマとの仲がこじれていた時期のホテル生活だったらしく、けっこう真剣に落ち込んでいたそうだが、それでもティルマンはスタンダップ・コメディアンのように面白おかしく語らずにいられないのだ。ジョン・レノンとの決定的な違いがそこにある。
　おそらく本作のキーとなるのは2分半弱しかない“Disappointing Diamonds Are the Rarest of Them All”だろう。歌詞を読むとそれは愛や人生についての真摯な考察のようだが（「誰もが史上最高の物語を紡がねばならないのか？」）、情熱的なメロディを持ったこのロッカ・バラッドはよく鳴るエレキと叩きつけられる鍵盤、管楽器による豪奢なアレンジとともに高まっていく。アウトロで粋に歌い上げるサックス・セクション。それはやはりテレビの歌番組のショウのようで、ティルマンは自分がエンターテイナーであることを了解している。“Please Don't Die”や“God's Favorite Customer”のようなフォーキーで比較的簡素なアレンジのナンバーもあるが、それにしてもティルマンの書く曲はその完成度の高さゆえ、生々しさよりもウェルメイドぶりで勝負する。ハクサン・クロークのような先鋭的なプロデューサーが参加している曲でもまた、楽曲のフォルムを崩すような危うい瞬間が訪れることはない。バンドのアンサンブルは達者でよく練られており、つねにダンディだ。

　これまでの作品では自己演出したパフォーマーを気取りながらふと素の横顔を見せていたファーザー・ジョン・ミスティだが、本作においては内面を切々と綴りながらそれでも大衆娯楽としてのポップスに向かっていく。自分はシンガーソングライターになってなければただのバカ野郎だったと自嘲気味に語っていたティルマンは、逆に言えば、ソングライターとしての圧倒的な才能を「持ってしまった」人間であることをここで覚悟したのではないだろうか。その量産体制といい、私的なモチーフをエンタメ化する態度といい、『ゴッズ・フェイヴァリット・カスタマー』はカニエ・ウェストの『Ye』の横に並べたくなるアルバムだ……というのは言いすぎにしても、現代のポップ・スターのひとつのあり方を代表している作品に違いない。妻にソングライターである自分の業と愛を囁きかけるその名も“The Songwriter”は、あるいは聴き手に娯楽として受け取ることを絶対に許す懐の深いバラッドたちは、紛れもなくジョシュ・ティルマンのリアルである。

　これは驚きの、そして待望のニュースです。デリック・メイが2003年にデトロイトで始動させたフェスティヴァル《MOVEMENT》が、なんと東京でも開催されます。題して《MOVEMENT CLUB EDITION》。デリック・メイ本人はもちろんのこと、テックハウスの第一人者 Mr. G がライヴで出演するほか、Hiroshi Watanabe や JUZU a.k.a MOOCHY、今春 Gonno & Masumura として強烈なアルバムを届けてくれたばかりの Gonno らも参加します。7月14日。これはもう行くしかないですね。
　なおデリック・メイは同時にジャパン・ツアーも開催、福岡・札幌・大阪を巡回します。また Mr. G も翌15日に DJ BAR Bridge にてファンク～ソウルのDJセットを披露してくれるとのこと。

　ロンドンの4人組のバンド、プレップ。降り注ぐ太陽と透明なプールサイドを思わせる彼らの音楽は、80年代という時代特有の煌きを2018年に再生する。モダンなシティ・ポップ？　むろん懐古主義ではないし、そもそも過去は再生できない。そうではなくプレップの奏でる音楽は、ポップ・ミュージック特有の「エンドレス・サマー」を提示しているのだ。終らない夏。永遠の夏。
　それは幸福の記憶である。それゆえ刹那のものでもある。すぐに消えてしまうものである。存在しないものだ。夢だ。だからこそ切ない。胸を打つ。求める。プレップは、そんな感情を弾むようなメロディと、美しいハーモニーと、踊らせてくれるリズムによって結晶する。

　結論へと先に急ぐ前に、彼らの経歴を簡単に記しておきたい。プレップのメンバーは、ルウェリン・アプ・マルディン（Llywelyn ap Myrddin）、ギヨーム・ジャンベル（Guillaume Jambel）、ダン・ラドクリフ（Dan Radclyffe）、トム・ハヴロック（Tom Havelock）ら4人。活動拠点は、ロンドンであり、近年はアジア諸国での評価も高く同地でツアーを敢行し、好評を博しているという。日本にもこの2018年5月にツアーで訪れ、演奏を披露した。
　メンバーについて簡単に説明をしておこう。まず、ルウェリン・アプ・マルディンはクラシック／オペラ・コンポーザーで、キーボード奏者である。彼の豊かな音楽素養によって生まれるハーモニーは、プレップの要だ。そのルウェリンに声をかけた人物が、「Giom」名義でハウス・ミュージックDJとして活動するドラマーのギヨーム・ジャンベル。彼がバンドのビートを支えている張本人である。
　ふたりがデモ曲を制作し、「ドレイクやアルーナジョージなどのレコーディングに参加し、グラミーにノミネートされたヒップホップ・プロデューサー」のダン・ラドクリフにデモを送り、結果、メンバーが3人になった。サンプリングを駆使したモダンなトラックメイクはダン・ラドクリフの手によるものだ。
　さらに、ダンの友人でもあるヴォーカリストにしてシンガー・ソングライター（Riton、Sinead Hartnett、Ray BLK等と共作歴あり）のトム・ハヴロックも加わり、超名曲“Cheapest Flight”が生まれたというわけだ。一聴すれば分かるが、この曲にはポップの魔法が宿っている。微かな切なさが堪らなく胸に染み入る。

　こういった1970年代から1980年代にかけて流行した音楽のテイスト、いわばAORやディスコ、フュージョン、ブルー・アンド・ソウル系の音楽は「ヨット・ロック」と称されている。サンセットビーチやリゾート感の心地よさや切なさを表しているのが理由らしい。言いえて妙だ。夏の陽光、黄昏、哀愁、美しさ。優れた作曲と卓抜な編曲と演奏によって支えられた音楽ともいえる。たとえばネッド・ドヒニーなどを思い出してみても良いかもしれない。
　また、近年、世界的に再発見されているらしい山下達郎、大貫妙子などの日本の70年代後半から80年代前半のシティ・ポップや、近年のニューエイジ・ムーヴメントともリンク可能である。つまり「いまの時代ならではの再発見音楽の現在形」ともいえる。われわれの耳は「同時代的な感覚として80年代的なリゾート感覚」を強く求めているのだ。
　2016年にプレップは、“Cheapest Flight”を含む4曲入りのEP「Futures」をリリースしたわけだが、どうやら“Cheapest Flight”以降、日本のシティ・ポップをたくさん聴き、自分たちの音楽との近似性を確認したようである。「Futures」のオビがいかにも日本の80年代風なのはその表れだろう。今年の来日時、SNSで佐藤博の『awakening』（1982）のレコードを嬉々としてアップしていたことも記憶に新しい。

　彼らは「バンド」といっても、運命共同体的な重さはない。聴き手にとっても、そして作り手にとっても「心地よい音楽」を生み出すことを目的としている。「一種の音楽工場」と彼らは語るが、そこから生まれる音楽は、なんと混じりけのないピュアなポップ・ミュージックだろう。
　ふり注ぐ光のように清冽で、透明なプールサイドのように美しい。そしてそれらがとても儚いものだと感じさせるという意味で、どこか切ない。だが、そんな儚い美しさの瞬間があるからこそ辛い人生は尊くもなる。そんな感情を“Cheapest Flight”は放っている。当初、匿名的であった彼らだが、この曲のヒットによって音楽ファンに広く知られることになった。“Cheapest Flight”は、Spotify再生回数300万回誇るという。

　本作『Cold Fire』は、2年ぶりの新作EPである。オリジナルは計4曲収録で、日本盤CDにはさらに2曲のボーナス・トラックが加えられている。
　1曲めは人気の韓国人R&Bシンガー、ディーンがバッキング・ヴォーカルで、アンダーソン・パークの楽曲のプロデュースも手がけた〈HW&W Recordings〉のポモがリード・シンセサイザーで参加しているタイトル・トラック“Cold Fire”。 シンセのリフもキャッチーで耳に残るポップ・チューンだ。大胆に転調するソングライティングも見事。
　2曲めはポートランドのウーミ（Umii）のメンバーであるリーヴァ・デヴィート（Reva DeVito）が起用された“Snake Oil ”。アンビエント／R＆Bなムードのミディアム・テンポのなか小技が聴いたトラック／編曲に唸ってしまう。
　3曲めはウルトラ・ポップ・トラック“Don't Bring Me Down”。夏の光を思わせるどこまでも爽やかな曲だ。テーム・インパラのMVの振付けを手掛けたTuixén Benetによってロサンゼルスのコリアタウンで撮影されたMVが印象的だ。
　4曲めはメロウ＆ポップな名曲“Rachel”。どこか“Cheapest Flight”の系譜にある曲調で、夏の切なさ、ここに極まるといった趣である。まさに黄昏型の名曲。

　そして5曲め（日本盤ボーナス・トラック1曲め）は、マイケル・ジャクソンの“Human Nature”のカヴァー。マイケルのカヴァーというより、作曲・演奏をしたTOTOへのオマージュといった側面が強いようである。自分たちとTOTOを良質なポップ・ミュージック・ファクトリー的な存在として重ねているのだろうか。曲の本質を軽やかに表現する名カヴァーといえる。
　ラスト6曲め（日本盤ボーナス・トラック2曲め）は名曲“Cheapest Flight”のライヴ・ヴァージョンである。録音版と比べても遜色のない出来栄えで、彼らの演奏力の高さを証明しているようなトラックだ。録音版より全体にシンプルなアレンジになっている点も、「Futures」と「Cold Fire」の違いを表しているようで興味深い。以上、全6曲。程よい分量のためか、何度も繰り返し聴いてしまいたくなる。なにより曲、編曲、演奏、ヴォーカルが、実にスムース、ポップ、メロウで、完璧に近い出来栄えなのだ。

　世界はいま大きく動いている。普通も普遍も現実もまったく固定化されず、常に変化を遂げている。変動の時代は人の心に不安を呼ぶ。そのような時代において、あえて「普遍的なものは何か」と問われれば、「一時の刹那の、儚い夢のような幸福感」かもしれない。しかも「幸福感」は人の心に残る。それをいつも希求してもいる。だからこそポップ・ミュージックは、どんな時代であっても幸福の結晶のような「永遠の夏」を歌う必要があるのではないか。
　プレップはそんな普遍的なポップ・ミュージックを私たちに届けてくれる貴重な存在なのだ。サーフ・ミュージックのザ・ビーチ・ボーイズ＝ブライアン・ウィルソンが実はサーフィンと無縁だったように、ヨットとまったく無縁でもプレップの音楽に心を奪われるはず。そう、ポップ・ミュージックだけが持っている永遠の／刹那の煌めきがあるのだから。

　昨年RDCで来日したパームス・トラックス、あるいはヴェニスのスティーヴ・マーフィやブダペストのルート・8（ジョージリー・シルヴェスター・ホルヴァート）などのリリースで知られる〈ロブスター・テルミン〉、最近〈ブレインフィーダー〉からのリリースで話題を集めているロス・フロム・フレンズの12インチもここから出ていましたけれども、ロンドンのこの奇特なレーベルが設立5周年を迎え、現在ヨーロッパや北米でショウケース・ツアーを展開しております。そしてこのたび、そのアジア版がソウルおよび東京・大阪でも開催されることが決定しました。レーベル主宰者のジミー・アスキスと、看板アーティストのルート・8が来日します。アンダーグラウンド・ダンス・ミュージックの熱い息吹に触れられるこの絶好の機会を逃すまじ。

　囁き声、ウィスパー・ヴォイス。声帯を震わせることを逃れた空気は、音から求心性と核を奪い、むしろ拡散させる。拡散された音は、まるで垂らし落とした蜜が水の中に希釈さていくように、どこまでも膨らんでいく。だから、ウィスパー・ヴォイスは「小さな囁き声」だとしても、どこまでも、遠く我々の内部にも浸透してくる。クロディーヌ・ロンジェの声…、シャルロット・ゲンズブールの声……。そして佐藤奈々子の声。

　今作『Golden Remedy』は、前若手ユニット「カメラ＝万年筆」とのコラボレーション作『old angel』以来約5年ぶりとなる新作である。
　アーティスト名表記も「Nanaco」と改めた彼女が今回コラボレーターに選んだのは、アヴァンギャルドからヒップホップまでジャンル横断的な活躍を見せるNY在住の若手鬼才ギタリスト、Riki Hidakaだ。
　一見意外と思われるこの組み合わせだが、これまでの佐藤奈々子のキャリアを振り返るならば、ごく納得のゆく共同作業だとも思える。70年代屈指のシティ・ポップ名盤とされるファースト・アルバム『ファニー・ウォーキン』ではソロ・デビュー前の佐野元春との共作だし、80年に結成したニューウェイヴ・バンド「SPY」では加藤和彦をプロデューサーに迎えていた。また、2000年作『sisters on the riverbed』ではR.E.M.を手がけたプロデューサーであるマーク・ビンガムとも邂逅するなど、その時代時代において自らの鋭敏な感性の元旺盛なコラボレーションを行ってきたのだから。
　かつて70年代後半同時期にデビューしたベテランたちに、ドメスティックなポップスを再生産する道を選んだ者たちが少なくないなか、佐藤奈々子の身軽さ、そして時々の音楽へのシャープな眼差しは傑出していると言えるだろう。

　今作は、まずRiki Hidakaによって作られた楽曲に対して、Nanacoがメロディと詞をつけていくという作業によって制作が進めれたという。Riki Hidakaによる楽曲は、そのギター・プレイの独創性はもちろん、メロディー／歌詞先行による制約が無いからであろうか、非常に奔放だ。マリアンヌ・フェイスフルによる名作『ブロークン・イングリッシュ』における特異な音響処理とシューゲイザー的世界が融合したようなM1“Old Lady Lake”、ヴェルヴェット・アンダーグラウンドとニコによる“オール・トゥモローズ・パーティ”を思い起こさざるを得ないドローン揺らめくM4“I Will Mary You”、硬質且つストイックなフォーキー世界がまるで森田童子を思わせるM5“美しい旅人”、堅牢にして靭やかなバンド・サウンドがコートニー・バーネットの楽曲にも通じるM7“未来の砂漠でギターを弾く君と私”など、これまでの佐藤奈々子の音楽を大胆に更新し、NanacoとRiki Hidakaによる音楽を新たに作り出そうという喜びに溢れている。
　しかしそれでもなお、いやだからこそというべきか、我々聴くものの耳、そして内部にもっとも広く深く浸透してくるのは、Nanacoの歌声とその言葉なのだ。聞き手がどれだけ様々な音楽と重ね合わてみようとも、やはりそのウィスパー・ヴォイスによって、Nanacoが特異な存在であるということが明示されるのだ。
　
　そう、Riki Hidakaによる楽曲は、あくまでNanacoの歌声が浸透圧を上げることに一番の作用を発揮している。ウィスパー・ヴォイスに含まれた空気成分が、汎空間的な音像と一体になるとき、歌声はいよいよその到達範囲を広げていく。
　その声は、空気に絆されホロホロと芯を解体していき、我々の内奥に浸り来ることになる。そして時に慄然とするほどに言葉が意味を運び込みもする。だからこの作品は、その先鋭的な音楽的相貌に反して、第一級の「ヴォーカル・アルバム」であるとも言えるだろう。もしかすると、囁き声ほどに我々が心をそばだててしまう音は無いのかも知れない。

　『JAMAICA 1982』は、『ミュージック・マガジン』などで活躍中の写真家・ライターの石田昌隆の写真集。タイトルにあるように、1982年のジャマイカ（の主に音楽シーン）をとらえたもので、同年の7月7日から8月25日までの53日間滞在して撮影した写真が編まれている。サウンドシステム、スラム街、レコード店、ナイヤビンギ、人々……写真を見ているとベースの音が聞こえてくる。ハーブの香りも匂ってくる。この時期のジャマイカの音楽シーンの写真としては、世界的にみても貴重なものばかりじゃないだろうか。石田さんの撮り方／構図がじつにキマっているので、どの写真も格好良すぎるほど格好いい。石田さんの目には、ジャマイカがこのぐらい格好良く見えていたんだろう。貧しい、しかしこいつらは絶対に格好いい。なんにせよ、これで石田さんが見てきた風景のいちぶをぼくたちも共有できる。まったく嬉しい限り。発売は7月6日。石井志津男さんのオーヴァーヒートからのリリース。
　写真集の刊行に併せて、原宿のBOOKMARCにて写真展も開催される。この機会にぜひ、迫力満点の生の写真も見て欲しい。

Laetitia Sadier Source Ensemble Find Me Finding You Drag City Amazon

　Initially emerging as a curiously conceptial bubblegum pop tangent from the shoegaze scene, Stereolab throughout their career embodied a series of tensions – between accessible and experimental, complex and grindingly simple, personal and political. Their music was never purely bubblegum: it had to be John Cage Bubblegum, it was never purely avant-garde: it had to be Avant-Garde AOR.
Stereolab’s roots lie in guitarist/main songwriter Tim Gane and lead vocalist/lyricist Laetitia Sadier’s time with jangly indiepop band McCarthy, with whom Stereolab shared similary explicit leftwing politics.
However, where McCarthy’s lyrics were typically sarcastic dissections of the absurdities of contemporary political life, Stereolab’s politics tended to be more reflective and even romantic, revelling in their own uncertainty, feeling out the relationship between self and society with less confidence and more innocent curiosity.
Their early records were infused with a gushing enthusiasm for the motorik rhythms of Neu!, which they then filled out with organ drones, and it’s probably fair to say that, along with Julian Cope, Stereolab were in large part responsible for the UK music scene’s rediscovery of Krautrock in the 1990s. However, from around 1994’s Mars Audiac Quintet, and more explicitly on 1996’s Emperor Tomato Ketchup, the band’s sonic palette broadened considerably, incorporating influences from ‘60s film soundtracks, French pop, jazz and a more sophisticated use of electronic elements.
Through all these mutations, the group’s unique and instantly recognisable sonic identity was Laetitia Sadier’s vocals, which simultaneously embodied a cool detachment and an unaffected romanticism. Sadier’s vocal foil for much of the ’90s was keyboard player Mary Hansen, and the interplay between the two singers helped to define the group up until Hanson's death in a road accident in 2002. Their combination of deadpan delivery and breezy “ba-ba-ba”s reflected a broader dynamic within the band’s music between pop’s desire to give you everything all at once and an avant-garde wariness of making things too easy.
From the start, Stereolab infuriated the UK music press with cryptic song titles and obscure puns alongside what seemed like a contrarian insistence that what they were doing was pop. And it was pop in the sense that, at its heart, Stereolab’s music was generally simple and melodic, drawing on familiar chords and rhythms – the song Transona Five was built around the instantly recognisable beat of Canned Heat’s On The Road Again, for example.
It also reflected a punkish rejection of the grownup world and a love of childish thrills. It’s there explicitly in song titles like We’re Not Adult Orientated, but also in the dadaist delight in nonsense that led to them describing the tracks on Transient Random-Noise Bursts With Announcements with gnomic nuggets of hi-fi wisdom like “subjective white noise” and sci-fi surrealism like “underwater aztec”.
In some ways, Stereolab were like a precociously smart teenager experiencing first love: so keen for you to like them, but always holding something back; complicating every simple expression of their feelings, but also underscoring every attempt to be cool and aloof with something disarmingly honest.
In the end though, perhaps the band themselves were always their own best reviewers, so it may be best to leave the last words to them:
“Constantly evolving, curious / Sombre, obscure, dark and luminous / Vitriolic, stringent, prophetic.”

Yeah, and I think that’s the beauty of pop: that it is this simple, conservative structure that lends itself perfectly to being disturbed and disrupted.

IAN:
Since this issue of the magazine is focused on avant-pop, I’m interested in how you feel about that term. With me, I find that I use it a lot without ever really thinking about what it means. It’s certainly a term that has often been used to describe Stereolab, but was it a term you ever felt comfortable with?

LAETITIA:
Well, as you know, artists don’t like to be pigeonholed in any way, so no term would suit. But if I were to choose one, this would actually be quite legitimate, because there were strong pop references in our music, and it was our structure for a lot of what we were doing. And there was an immense liberty between a verse and a chorus, where Tim might want to try out some ideas, so there would be these “avant” ideas perhaps between parts four and seven of track three on the album. That’s how I understand the “avant” in “avant-pop” – it’s taking liberties and being free to explore inbetween a rather simple structure, without our music being “avant-garde” strictly speaking.

IAN:
It also seems to me that the term “avant-pop” embodies a contradiction. There’s something fundamentally conservative about pop, in that it’s music that wants you to feel comfortable in how you already are, whereas the avant-garde is about taking you out of your comfort zone.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and I think that’s the beauty of pop: that it is this simple, conservative structure that lends itself perfectly to being disturbed and disrupted. I think The Beach Boys were masters of hiding an incredible amount of complexity and even darkness beneath something that on the surface is so shiny and friendly – when inside it’s just plain weird! So in that regard pop can be very subversive and can be a danger to society! (Laughs)

IAN:
You mention about the the importance of simplicity, and I remember reading something that Tim said about how a lot of the simplicity and minimalism of early Stereolab was dictated to a large degree by your own limitations as musicians.

LAETITIA:
Yeah. Indeed, you have what you have, and you have to work with that. In a sense it’s more liberating to accept the physical limitations. It’s much more hindering to have too many possibilities and have to narrow it down rather than have a much more narrow terrain to work with and think, “How do we exploit this bit of land here and how do we extract the gems?” There was a fair amount of limitations because we were not schooled musicians. But the aim wasn’t to be virtuosos, and I guess that’s also part of the pop thing. You don’t have to be a virtuoso: you just explore your capabilities within the context of being a normal human being, not some supreme creature touched by the hand of God! It was more punk: do the best with what you’ve got.

IAN:
Within punk, there seemed to be a lot of affection – sometimes a little ironic and sometimes more sincere – for the bubblegum extremes of pop music. The Sex Pistols covering The Monkees etc., despite them not seeming ideologically compatible on the face of it.

LAETITIA:
But they were! I don’t know if I can make the class system step in, but I will! It was about the working classes taking power, exercising their self-determination, so that’s very important and very dangerous. You know, The Who and The Kinks were probably seen with an air of suspicion by the authorities because they had an incredible amount of sway with the youth. They were a bit threatening, and of course so were the punks. And the punks made a point of saying, “I didn’t go to school for this, and I’m going to make it as simple and direct as I can to show that anybody can do this!”

That’s what I find so appealing in that sort of pop, is that it was very political. Not political with a big “P” but it was about people taking matters into their own hands through their art. That’s how I educated myself politically: it was through music, not through reading Karl Marx.

IAN:
Yeah. When Stereolab started, one of their most audible influences was Krautrock, which was a music with its own kind of simplicity. But Krautrock also embodied this thing that wasn’t only a class thing but also this attempt to get away from the Anglo-American hegemony over rock music.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and again there was a big element of self-determination and saying “Fuck you!” to the man. That’s what I find so appealing in that sort of pop, is that it was very political. Not political with a big “P” but it was about people taking matters into their own hands through their art. That’s how I educated myself politically: it was through music, not through reading Karl Marx – because it’s hard to read Karl Marx! And far less immediate than listening to a pop album.

IAN:
Of course, as your career progressed, you all became better musicians and so some of those limitations fell away. How did you keep in touch with that simplicity?

LAETITIA:
The watershed point would be “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”. That’s where it shifted to something more overtly complex. I didn’t write the music, so it’s difficult for me to answer this clearly, but as far as I know, each album stemmed from an idea, and it would imply some kind of restriction. One album was written entirely where none of the notes from the melodies appeared in the chord that was sustaining the melody – which I think is great. It brings about more tension. It wasn’t dissonant, but I think “tension” is the word that springs to mind, and that for me makes it an interesting song. Another example was “Margarine Eclipse”, which was essentially three albums, because we had one on the left speaker, one album on the right speaker, and then you had the sum of the two, which created the third album, so that was another sort of conceptual idea. There were often little tricks like that, which sustained entire albums.

IAN:
You’ve mentioned the idea of “tension”, and your work often has a kind of tension between music that on the face of it seems cheerful, happy, pleasant, and lyrical content that’s quite dark or angry. I’m thinking particularly of “Ping Pong” off “Mars Audiac Quintet”, where the lyrics about the cycles of economic downturn and war seem ever more relevant with the way the world seems to be heading now.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, absolutely. It’s difficult for me to say why I write certain things, but I know what you mean, especially with Stereolab, there was more darkness than originally suspected from a first glance. We were very serious about what we did. It was our way of making sense of our lives and of being autonomous. And of course I’ve always been very very sensitive to the way the world is going, and in fact since I was born it’s just getting worse. I always felt that we could organise ourselves a bit better, and I don’t mean a utopian society where everybody’s cool and the sun shines every morning – I just mean, “Hold on a minute: we can do this a little bit better so that it works out for more of us who are living on this planet.” And yet it seems that, “Oh, my God, we can’t!” The pathology has only gotten worse and deeper, at least on the surface. Because there’s a lot of good things as well that are happening, and people are getting organised in more silent ways – silent in the sense that you might not hear about it. People are going, “You can’t expect anything from governments: we’re going to have to do it ourselves!” and that I view as a good development: people taking matters into their own hands on a local level.

IAN:
Do you think there’s a parallel between what you’re describing there and the music scene? Something about the idea of organising independently of power structures?

LAETITIA:
I don’t know, because in my own experience, in my band, there were a lot of power structures actually. It wasn’t a democracy, in the sense that Tim monopolised the entire musical field and operated as a kind of “soft tyrant”. I mean, I had all the freedom lyrically speaking, but only because he couldn’t do it! (Laughs) So I don’t have an idealised view of being in the band. I’ve never been in a band where everyone wrote together. Even in my own band, I write almost everything. Sometimes on certain songs I give my bassist Xavi (Munoz) the chords and he writes a bass line, and then I have to write a melody on top of that, and it’s like, “Shit! He took all the melodic feel!” but it’s great because you have to dig deeper. So this thing about relinquishing control is probably difficult if you have a very strong artistic expectation, which I think Tim had. But also as a result I think our music was very reined in. It might seem crazy, but I’ve been listening to Stereolab’s old records recently, and they’re very repressed. But it’s really hard to let go and to let things flow, and I think that’s the reserve of some really, really great musicians where the’re totally on top of their instrument and go beyond.

IAN:
Do you think that having your creativity channeled narrowly into your lyrics and vocals influenced the way you make your own music?

LAETITIA:
Yeah, yeah, of course! And also what it forced me to do was start my own band, which was Monade, and I think Tim was very relieved! (Laughs) And, yeah, so that was a creative way around this issue, because I wanted to write my own songs, I had my own ideas, which are actually very similar to Stereolab, so I think I could have co-written much more with Tim. I’ve done seven albums now, and to my dismay I’m like, “This is still very influenced by Stereolab!” It’s really strange how each time I try to let go of that, I’m always face-to-face with that root, which I created. And I listen to what Tim is doing, and it’s still also... there’s no escaping it! It’s absolutely crazy! I don’t know, I could maybe write some reggae stuff to break it, but then it wouldn’t be me!

IAN:
But also one of the most powerful things music can do is that it creates a world. People fall in love with bands because they create worlds that they’re able to immerse themselves in and feel comfortable with. I wonder if the difficulty you describe in escaping Stereolab is a measure of how immersive the world you created was.

LAETITIA:
I don’t know. I find myself quite good at getting out of my comfort zone, at least when I compare myself to people I know. So I don’t know if what I’m looking for is something comfortable that I recognise, that I identify as safe. And particularly in the artistic field, where I feel that’s where you should be most free, and most adventurous. There’s no danger of hurting anyone because, as you say, it’s a world we create.

Yeah, and also coming from psychoanalysts themselves. It was always around “the problem came from your parents,” never from society.

IAN:
That comes back in a way to the “avant” side of avant-pop, right? The need to step out of your comfort zone, and also to take the listener out of their comfort zone.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, this is the duty! But maybe that’s where one can act and maybe not have that pretension of taking anyone out of their comfort zone, and simply do what comes best, and not be too complicated. I worked with Colin Newman recently, and his wife Malka Spigel who was in (Belgian postpunk band) Minimal Compact. I didn’t know that they worked with a looper where things had to be four and four and four and four, and so I was sending something which I found quite interesting and fun and not too complicated, and they totally rejected it! What they did was they took parts of the song and then they looped it. And it worked fine, but I realised that, compared to what they were sending me, it just gave me a glimpse of how complex I make things and how I could simplify it a lot. I’m not saying it’s good or bad; it’s just an insight.

IAN:
A friend of mine once remarked to me that he thinks Stereolab must be the band whose lyrics contain the word “society” more than any other. And I was thinking how this idea of looking at the structure of the world in many ways goes against the rather individualistic world of pop or rock music.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, there’s a dichotomy between a world of egos and society. And I wanted Stereolab’s lyrical work to bridge the very intimate and personal and society; where does political start and where does it end? Because the way I saw it was let’s be as complete as we can, and for me being complete is talking about things that matter to me. Some people view pop music as a means to escape reality, so if you talk about mindless things, or if you “settle the accounts” with somebody, or express the world of feelings around a relationship. I do explore emotional stuff as well – that wasn’t excluded. It just seemed to me that let’s talk about important stuff, because there’s enough of it going on out there that we can discuss or at least question, because a lot of what I talked about in my lyrics were just questions for myself. Even the capitalist, the individualist, all this is stuff I could feel within myself. It was like, “No, I can be that monster too, and I’d like to interrogate that.”

IAN:
It seems that we’re often being encouraged by society to think very internally and to not really interrogate the relationship between ourselves and the outside world. In the song “The Well-Fed Point of View” by yours and Tim’s old band McCarthy, the lyrics tackle this quite directly.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and also coming from psychoanalysts themselves. It was always around “the problem came from your parents,” never from society. And in fact, I got very interested in a guy called Cornelius Castoriadis. He wasn’t just a psychoanalyst, he was many things, but he was married to a very famous psychoanalyst (Piera Aulagnier) in the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s in Paris, and they both were some of the first in the field to interrogate the impact of society on the human psyche. But it’s amazing to see that they were rare ones. Like, as if society did not impact your psyche, your unconscious, which I find extremely dubious! Of course it’s going to have an impact: everything has an impact on us: the architecture, the way the streets are laid out. It’s like if doctors are saying whatever you eat doesn’t impact your health: how can you say that?

IAN:
You mention architecture, but that’s true of music as well, right? The aesthetics, or the “internal architecture” of music also has an impact that goes beyond the lyrics.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, I think so. And the production of the song will say a lot. It’s a language.

IAN:
There seems to be an ease pop culture in Japan has in disconnecting the aesthetics from the content. But at the same time, maybe that’s impossible because the aesthetics have an impact of their own that is connected to the content.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and I think there was enough happening aesthetically in our work that people would suspect that it had a revolutionary intent: that this wasn’t your regular pop group. And I think in Japan people were very savvy as well when it came to music. People knew their stuff! Not to mention that we called one of our albums “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”, which was named after a super-revolutionary Japanese movie.

IAN:
By Shuji Terayama, yeah.

LAETITIA:
I haven’t seen it! I haven’t read Marx and I haven’t seen “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”! (Laughs) Don’t tell them!

IAN:
It’s too late. It’s on tape! With the many collaborations you’ve been involved in, do you think that enriches your music?

LAETITIA:
Definitely. Like I said, it gets you out of your comfort zone, and it forces you to a sort of activity to be productive, because anything could make you go out of productivity: feeling a bit depressed or this or that or the other. It’s good to be kept in action. And stuff comes out that wouldn’t normally come out, so it’s very instrumental in keeping the creativity bubbling and active.

IAN:
Are there any particular projects that you’ve worked on with other people that stand out as being especially rewarding experiences for you?

LAETITIA:
When I worked with Jan and Andi (Mouse on Mars). It was so brilliant. We had a tour of Greece and Italy booked up and we had to come up with an hour’s worth of music, and it was the first time I was working like this outside of Stereolab. It was really difficult for me because I wasn’t confident that I could do this. I then learned that if I’m asked to do it, that means that I can do it! So that became my sort of motto. And yeah, somehow we did it and we had such a fun tour – it was such an adventure! But working with people, each time it’s a different adventure. I’m currently working with a Brazilian band called Mombojó, and we created a group together called Modern Cosmology – we made a video called “C’est le Vent”, “It’s the Wind”, which gives an idea of our collaboration. I can only see the positives of working with other people and “crossbreeding” (laughs) your creativity.

IAN:
So you made three albums with Monade, then three just under your own name, and then more recently one as Laetitia Sadier Source Ensemble. It seems like there’s a period there where your identity is subsumed within this idea of a band, then three albums where you push your own individual identity to the foreground, and then finally this third stage where you’re trying to reconcile the collective and the individual. Would you say there’s something like that going on in the process?

LAETITIA:
Yeah, thank you for summing it up so beautifully! Yeah, it’s true that there’s time where you’re in the playground and you’re working out who the hell you are like, “This is me.” And then there are some times where you open it up and it’s like, “This is me in the world, this is me and my friends, and this is collective me.” And even when I was in my “this is me” period, Laetitia Sadier, I was still well aware that nothing that I do is just the product of solely me: it’s the product of many people’s involvement. And it seemed to me that it was an important point to make when I “Source Ensembled” Laetitia Sadier, because we’re told that “This is just you, and you and you and you alone!” and that’s wrong: that’s a lie. We are all connected here.

IAN:
Jumping back to Stereolab, I think it’s interesting that the band is in many ways a product of the 1990s and the age of CDs. For example, most Stereolab albums are far too long to fit onto a single piece of vinyl. But at the same time, they’re also albums that seem designed to be appreciated on vinyl.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, like any music that respects itself! (Laughs) It’s true. I have a turntable in my kitchen and a CD player, and I’m not attached to the object at all, and I would prefer to listen to CDs because you don’t need to worry about turning it over. But now I realise there’s something different about vinyl. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just more music-friendly.

IAN:
I think the way it forces you to constantly attend to it by turning it over every fifteen minutes encourages a different, more attentive sort of listening.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, it’s funny how this kind of alienation in fact gives you more connection with the record.

IAN:
Perhaps it goes back to the idea of tension again. In this case, rather than tension within the music, it’s tension between the listener and the medium itself that engages the listener. The other extreme would be Spotify or something, where you just put on a playlist while you’re cooking.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, you just consume it. I don’t have Spotify, but my son’s got it and it’s amazing though. Just say a band and there you have it. I think I’m going to have to get it, especially because I’m going to be on Spotify as of this month (April 2018). The Drag City catalogue is on all the streaming platforms, which it wasn’t before – Drag City have given in! It’s tricky but times are changing and people just have new ways of listening to music. There’s a lot of people out there – have you seen all this youth out there! (Laughs)

IAN:
OK, I guess before we finish, I should just ask if there’s anything more you’ve got coming up that you’d like to tell us about.

LAETITIA:
Well, really the main thing at the moment is my project with those Brazilian boys, Modern Cosmology. Apart from that, I’ll make it to Japan again maybe not this year but next year, one way or another.

　梅雨明けはいつになるやら。たまの晴れ間は猛暑だし、基本的にジメジメしてて陰湿な今の季節、外に出るのもおっくうになっちゃいますよね、わかりますよ。いざクラブに足を運んでも、エントランスに置いてた傘をパクられて濡れてタクシー拾うハメになるのなんてゴメンですよね、わかります。だけど、しばらくクラブで踊ってなかったり、イヤホンだけで音楽きいてもフラストレーション溜まっちゃうじゃないですか。だから本ちゃんの梅雨の期間である6月を乗り越えて7月になったらその溜まりに溜まったものを吐き出しにどこかへでかけませんか。
　7月7日、七夕の夜に開催される「PROCARE」と第された本パーティは、Anthony NaplesやButtechnoなんかを東洋化成製ヴァイナルで発売するレーベル「City-2 St. Giga」、原宿の外れに位置する刺繍屋さん「葵産業」が主催。この時点でメジャーな感じが一切香ってこないですが、それがイイですね。
　ラインナップはマイアミを拠点とするCSPGのPX$H6XDことPOSHGOD（Metro Zu！ 懐かしい！）に、自称テクノおじさんことみんな大好きワンドリさん（1-Drink aka 石黒景太）、今年8月に日本をあとにするウルトラデラックスなDJ HEALTHYくん、などなど盛りだくさん。
パーティ会場では前述したPOSHGODと1-DRINKの音源を含む全12曲収録のコンピCD『PURE-FESSIONAL』がマーチャンダイズとして販売。Will DimaggioやUon、Khotinを含む全員が未発表音源を提供しているなかなかに豪華な仕様です。帯の文言、アートワークもなかなかダサくて（褒めてます）ついつい手を伸ばしちゃいそうですね。
　ここまで読んだみなさん、パーティのスローガン「安心・安定・安全」を合言葉に重くなった腰をどうにかして、この日は中目黒へ遊びにでかけましょう。

Jim O'Rourke sleep like it’s winter NEWHERE MUSIC Amazon

Writing about a musician like Jim O’Rourke is always a challenge. His work is rarely what it seems to be on the surface, its mechanisms carefully concealed so that how it works on you as a listener is the result of an almost invisible creative process. A huge amount of complexity and musical intelligence underscores music that feels completely natural and even obvious, as if it’s always existed. If his creative approach includes a strong element of academic discipline, his finished music nonetheless has a lot of heart.
On O’Rourke’s previous relatively high-profile release, his unexpected 2015 return to something like rock songwriting with Simple Songs, instantly familiar-sounding rock hooks would merge imperceptably into completely unexpected musical territory without you ever noticing how you’d travelled. His latest album, Sleep Like It’s Winter, released from the new, ambient-focused NEWHERE label, sees him in a radically a different sonic landscape again, with an icy, uneasy, breathtakingly beautiful 45-minute instrumental track.
Between Simple Songs and Sleep Like It’s Winter lie twenty-two separate releases in O’Rourke’s Steamroom series, which he puts out at a rate of about one every couple of months from his Bandcamp page. While some of these releases are old tracks deemed worthy of exhuming from his archives, this rapid flow of releases may also include something for those of us hoping to find clues as to his working. Certainly some of the Steamroom releases that most immediately preceded Sleep Like It’s Winter share similarities.
None of them are quite as richly layered and textured though, and while ambient music is almost by definition music that defies analysis, working primarily on the fringes of consciousness, Sleep Like It’s Winter at the same time feels like a very conscious album, full of ideas and revealing something new on every listen.

I mean, most people would say Eno. Actually it would go back to Michael Nyman’s book Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond. It’s a great, important book that I read when I was in high school.

I：
I always find it a bit difficult to talk about music that often gets described as ambient or drone…

J：
Right, well, the fact that they even asked me to make an ambient record for them, that’s why I decided to take the challenge. I didn’t set out to make an ambient record but it’s sort of about making an ambient record more than it’s an ambient record (laughing) you know? Pretty much everything I do is about what it is as opposed to being it.

I：
You’ve said before something along the lines of that you approach making music in a way kind of like a critic.

J：
Yeah, I don’t make music ‘cause I enjoy it. (Laughs) Yeah, I have said something like that. I’m not comparing myself to him but when I was young I read this quote from Godard where he said, “The best way to critique a film is to make another film,” and that stuck with me since I luckily read that as a young boy. That’s fundamental to how I work.

I：
How long did this new album take?

J：
That took about two years.

I：
Were you still living in Tokyo when you started work on it?

J：
I was still in Tokyo, yes, when they first asked me. But there was also a lot of extraneous work around that time also because I was moving. So the first six months of working on it was probably more thinking than actually putting anything down. Just thinking about what the hell that term “ambient” meant, and it means different things to different generations. At the beginning, when they asked me, it was like “We’re starting an ambient label,” and I was like, “Okay…” (laughs) Just making any record in terms of “make a record in this genre” is anathema to me, but I decided to do it because it was such a revolting idea! (Laughs) Not that I dislike ambient music – I don’t mean that. That’s just not the way I think when I make things, so it was such a bizarre proposal that I decided to do it.

I：
For ambient music what is your first natural frame of reference?

J：
I mean, most people would say Eno. Actually it would go back to Michael Nyman’s book Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond. It’s a great, important book that I read when I was in high school. There’s a bit about Eno in there talking about, and (Eno) didn’t use the word “ambient” yet, he refers (Erik) Satie’s idea of “furniture music”. And it might be on the back of his Discreet Music record, which was a big deal for me when I was a kid, because on the back of the record it’s all just him talking about these ideas and there’s also diagrams of technically how he made the music. When I think of ambient music I don’t necessarily think of Eno because Eno’s actual ambient music, when he moved on, you know those “Ambient” records, I actually don’t like those very much – no disrespect to him, but it’s just not my cup of tea. In a way I like Satie’s definition of it more: that it’s “furniture music”, that it’s like BGM: it’s not something that’s meant to be listened to with the active mind, which implies that you’re not following the formal structure of what’s going on. So it’s a sort of shift of standpoint that means “ambient” to me. For me, in making this record, the most important thing was, “Where is a line where you decide to give up on formal structures completely?” and, “Where is a line where formal structures can still be perceived but they’re not being shouted at you?”

I：
Speaking of formal structures, going back to Eno, he often seems interested in the idea of taking the musician completely out of the music

J：
For me, in that way of thinking of music, which I’ve been moving towards my entire life slowly but surely (laughs), Roland Kayn was the biggest guy for me. Someone could call his music ambient but it’s way too aggressive for that. The idea of his music is you create the system and then you just let it go. The challenge is how can you create a system that still represents the ideas even though you’ve let it go. If you look at some of the last decade or so of Cage’s scores, like the number pieces, they create these systems. These later Number Pieces of his are really interesting because, if you do them correctly, they’re really constraining even though they don’t seem to be. Whereas someone like Kayn and what Brian Eno were doing, especially in the 70’s, they still want a result but they want to be hands off about it.

I：
For those of us listening to you, it’s almost like we get to hear you, well not in real time but now it almost feels like every couple of months there’s a new thing on Bandcamp

J：
Yeah, Bandcamp is one of the few things the internet has created that I really like. I do like that it’s just there for the fifty people who want it and nothing else gets attached to it. Everything that comes with releasing records, if I have nothing to do with it that’s the happiest I could possibly be. For me, you’ve got to understand, once it’s done it’s done: I’m already gone.

I：
Did your work on those releases inform your work on this new album?

J：
I think one or two might have been failed versions. (Laughs) I mean the Bandcamp stuff, honestly it’s for the 50 or 80 people out there who want to hear that stuff. It’s just being able to be, “Here, you guys want this: go ahead.” Not that I don’t put as much work into those things. For every Bandcamp work I put up, there’s like 80 failed Bandcamp things.

I：
In Sleep Like it’s Winter, there are a lot of sounds that are happening just on the edge of hearing, where it drops to near silence for a while before the sounds build back up again.

J：
Yeah, that’s true. A lot of my really early stuff in the late ’80’s, early ’90’s was a lot of that but I think, because I was young, I was still in the mode of imitating people. I was imitating silence (laughs) because there’s a lot of that, especially in (Giaconto) Scelsi’s music, which I was really really into when I was in college. And I really appreciated the amount of silence in a lot of Luc Ferrari’s work, which I was also really really into.
Also, at that time, things like the Hafler Trio, P-16 D4a, blah blah blah, but I don’t think I really understood how to use that until later in life. Because silence is just as much a part of the dynamic as something loud. In the act of actually listening to something, time means a lot and silence is also time because you perceive time differently in silence than time with sound. Hopefully, the use of silence stretches your perception of time – it’s the same thing as having a good drum fill or something.

Well, in terms of structure, the one thing that music can’t really do eloquently, like the other art forms, is deal with time backwards. Music can really only change time by making reference, and that can only be done if the music has a formal structure because you’re making structural reference or a melodic reference.

I：
So silence can be a function of the overall rhythm of the piece.

J：
Right, yes, exactly, yeah. Another thing I had to think about a lot when making this record is the idea that just because the music is “ambient” and doesn’t have percussion elements or whatever, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a rhythm. So, what role does rhythm take in this and how does it manifest itself is also something I had to think about a lot. And silence is part of that. Silence is kind of like an audio punctuation as well and it can be a comma or it can be a period. Or a semi-colon. Of course it matters what comes before and what comes after, but you really can hear the difference between a period and a comma. There’s definitely a moment of silence on this record that’s a comma and then there’s one that’s 3 periods in a row. At least that’s the way I think of it.

I：
Did you find, while making this record that there are cliches in ambient music?

J：
Oh, there definitely are. I kind of knew them before I started this because that’s mostly the reason I don’t listen to ambient music. I mean, pretty much all ambient music is major 7th chords, so harmony was going to be a big deal – how to approach harmony with this. Major 9th is also very popular: those are the two go-to harmonies in ambient music, if it isn’t just a perfect 5th. How to deal with harmony on this! I didn’t want it to just be about the overtones, because with the drone route really you’re dealing with overtones and not dealing with harmony – that was something I knew firsthand from doing it. In my memory, all the failed versions are sort of mixed up in it. Once I’ve finished the record, the only time I’ve heard it since mixing it is to check the mastering, so I kind of forget what happens in it. I learned a lot of what it wasn’t, but I don’t know if I learned what it is. I would rather find the next question than find the answer: that’s just the way I am. I mean, I don’t really believe in answers. A solution should lead to the next question.

I：
A bit like a filmmaker working in a genre, you have a choice: “Am I going to take this convention and play with it or am I going to confound this convention?”

J：
That’s a really apt comparison for me, because those kinds of filmmakers were a much bigger influence on me than music really was when I was young. I always wanted to be a filmmaker and then I found out how expensive it is and what kind of life you have to lead so that didn’t happen. Someone like Robert Aldrich or Richard Fleischer, these kinds of filmmakers were a really big deal for me because I loved watching them do all sorts of things despite being in this supposed cage of genre convention. William Friedkin is like a superhero to me: I love William Friedkin. To Live and Die in L.A., that film is amazing in what it does with genre conventions. I have a huge poster of it staring in my face right now. My way of thinking on that stuff really comes more from film than anything else. Just it really taught me a lot about approach.

I：
I wonder as well if, compared to pop music where the story is told in a very concise nugget, ambient music, where a single piece might be stretched over an entire album, works in a more cinematic rhythm.

J：
Well, in terms of structure, the one thing that music can’t really do eloquently, like the other art forms, is deal with time backwards. Music can really only change time by making reference, and that can only be done if the music has a formal structure because you’re making structural reference or a melodic reference. And that’s really only calling back, that’s not restructuring time. Kurosawa Kiyoshi, in the ‘90s, was the king of that. He deals with time in his films in the most extraordinary manner, especially Hebi no Michi (Serpent’s Path) and Kumo no Hitomi (Eyes of the Spider). The way he restructures everything you’ve seen with just an image, and your perception of time in everything you’ve seen can change from just an image. You can do that in all the visual arts, and obviously you can do that in writing, but music doesn’t have the tools to do that in such an eloquent manner. It’s really kind of clumsy. That’s something that’s always fascinated me since college, because when I was in college and studying all the Stockhausen and all that shit, that was the stuff I was really interested in. There’s this whole period of Stockhausen doing these “moment works”. I mean, the 60s and 70s was when all those guys were trying to address the problem of time in music, and the fact that they did is awesome, but it was really kinda hamfisted. It’s still a problem in music and that’s the thing I think about a lot, and film is the thing that reminds me of that constantly, more so than music does.

I：
You’ve mentioned before constantly creating roadblocks for yourself in the creation of your music.

J：
I don’t think I do that as much as I used to. When I was younger I think I needed to. I think now I sort of trip myself up naturally. I don’t even consciously do that: its just the way my brain works. I think when I was younger I had to do that. And also, when you’re younger, when you have no gear or anything, that’s a great thing, you know? Having too much gear is one of the worst things in the world. The more gear you have, the less you do. That’s a concrete restriction that you’ve got to think about, “I’m not even gonna touch any of that stuff”. There’s only three instruments on this record – no, four, sorry, if you count a short-wave radio as an instrument.

I：
Were you working with any collaborators on this record or is it all you?

J：
Yeah, it’s just me. There was one version that was going to have drums on it but it didn’t work. So there’s a hard-drive full of this stuff with drums on it that will rust away (laughs).

I：
You’re living in the countryside now. Since moving there has that impacted the way you work.

J：
I just get to work more. There’s not much distraction at all. It’s the closest to when I was in my early twenties, really. I mean, I wouldn’t sleep for days at a time: I’d really be in my room with my tape machine and just doing that non-stop. That’s not something I’d want to do now, but I can get to that frame of mind again, which is something I haven’t been able to do for a long long time.

I：
You produce a wide range of music under the name of “Jim O’Rourke”, but there’s often this sense, particularly in Japan, that “this is what this project is and this is what it sounds like”. I remember a friend of mine was playing a show and at the end the manager of the venue commented, “Yeah, that should be three different bands, what you played there”

J：
Yeah, that’s a very reductive way of thinking. I think it is more common here than anywhere else.

I：
You’ve spoken in the past that people have a hard time considering an artist’s work as a whole rather than each thing discretely.

J：
Right, I think that’s more common in music. I mean, you say “Hitchcock “ – people might mention a film or two as their favourites but they’re generally thinking “the work of Hitchcock”. But it is true in music; you would think of “the works of Morton Feldman” but that’s because that world of music does tie into that socio-political way of thinking. But in terms of popular music that really has more to do with commodity than a way of thinking, there really aren’t that many people who approach it that way. Whether you like him or not, Frank Zappa is someone who could be seen as an exception to that: people generally think of “the work of Frank Zappa”, although he was generally making records with a rock band. People think that way about someone like Bob Dylan. So there are exceptions, but in general there aren’t.

I：
Do you feel there are themes that keep coming back in your music?

J：
Oh God, yeah! (Laughs) It’s all the same thing. They’re all the same thing really. I mean, I think it’s something Picasso said or someone said it about Picasso: “You’re really just making the same painting over and over again.”

One silly example, I remember when I was younger, I would read Naked Lunch every year, and I noticed that every year I re-read it, I learned more about me than I did about the book. Because I saw more of how I had changed, in that time, than the book had changed. Because the book, of course, hadn’t changed at all: it’s always been there.

Jim O'Rourke sleep like it’s winter NEWHERE MUSIC Amazon

I： What do you think links an album like Simple Songs to and album like Sleep Like it’s Winter or maybe Kafka’s Ibiki’s Nemutte?

J：
I guess I would say it’s that I made them. (Laughs) It sounds like a joke, but in a way I think that’s really kind of the best answer. Certain aspects of what I’m trying to do come out stronger on some things more than others. But they’re kind of all there on all of them.

I：
One thing that connects them, when I listen to them, is that I hear multiple layers to the way things transition on your records.

J：
I don’t know if you’ve heard this record I did called The Visitor.

I：
Yeah, I was listening to that today, actually.

J：
I mean, that’s probably the closest I’ve ever gotten. It still has lots of problems, but that’s the closest ever to sort of doing what I wish the music would do. And that’s really all about the transitions, really – the flipping and the flopping, as Kramer would say. I don’t think in the abstract about the transitions – I don’t think “OK, now I’m going to make this kind of transition,” – it’s not an abstract idea or an exercise, but that really is a big part of how I put things together. It’s like weaving a rug. I don’t know if that’s an apt analogy, but you don’t want the work put into the music to show. The best rug you ever saw, if you look at the way it’s put together, that work never overshadows the overall effect, hopefully. That’s the hardest thing, I think, in making music - to hide the work. You’ve gotta hide it. That’s really really important to me.

I：
Has that always been a key part of your approach?

J：
It’s always been there. I’m trying to think of where I learned that lesson, but I know I learned it very young. Definitely since like… it was like ’91, ’92 where I got out of the habit of highlighting the work more than what the work was supposed to produce.
That’s kind of part and parcel of how I work. A big percentage of the work is in hiding the work: it needs to live once you’ve killed it, you know what I mean? (Laughs)

I：
Part of the fun of listening to some of your recent records was that on multiple listens, it continues to fundamentally change.

J：
You’ve reminded me. I know I’ve said this before, but this was a big deal for me and it relates 100% to this. When I was in high school there was a movie theatre within like two hundred yards of our house and, because I would go there every day, they eventually just let me go in for free. So I was going there every day. And one day I was going there to go see a movie and my father said, “You saw that movie already, why are you going to see it?” and I remember saying to him, something to the effect of, “All of these people put like a year of their lives into making this movie. How arrogant would it be for me to think I could understand it all in two hours?” That was one of the things I really love about film: that good films didn’t have it all out there on the surface like somebody serving you a whatever course dinner. You had to dig in, and some things don’t work without that resonance, that’s very important, ‘cause time equals resonance, you know? One silly example, I remember when I was younger, I would read Naked Lunch every year, and I noticed that every year I re-read it, I learned more about me than I did about the book. Because I saw more of how I had changed, in that time, than the book had changed. Because the book, of course, hadn’t changed at all: it’s always been there. So that was also kind of a profound thing for me when I was a young ‘un.

I：
Perhaps there’s also this idea of having the space to find you way into something. It took me forever to get into Bowie because at first I thought it was “classic rock”, which just had so much baggage attached to it. But because there were so many entry-points into his work I eventually found one that worked for me.

J：
I can understand that. I had that a few years ago with Keith Jarrett. He was someone I knew I was supposed to like and I should have ‘cause I love ECM –70s ECM, the stuff I grew up on. And of course, he’s like a towering figure in that world and it took a long long time. It’s really only in the past two or three years that I finally cracked the code with him.

I：
I can understand that. I guess the point for me is that there wasn’t a single door. There were multiple doors in and I had to find mine.

J：
Right. Well I think there has to be like one initial door and when you open that door there’s all the other doors. Just like… (Laughs) I immediately thought of Genesis, sorry!

I：
You don’t have to apologize for Genesis!

J：
Oh, I will never apologise for Genesis! You’re never going to find a more hardcore Genesis fan than me – Peter era, of course. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is my favourite album of all time. But, you know, Genesis wasn’t embarrassing when I was growing up.

I：
Maybe “I will never apologise for Genesis!” is a good sentiment to end on. Thanks!