Why not begin the week with something slow, and quiet, and beautiful?
Jürg Frey (1953-), Petit fragment de paysage (Ko Ishikawa, shō; Mari Adachi, viola), Wen 16 (Seiko Takemoto, cello), Petit fragment de paysage (Mari Adachi, viola; Seiko Takemoto, cello); Wen 29 (Mari Adachi, viola); Petit fragment de paysage (Ko Ishikawa, u; Seiko Takemoto, cello), live, Tokyo, 2016
even poorly planted
slowly, slowly . . . green!
—Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), translated from Japanese by David G. Lanoue
string quartet festival
Elliott Carter (1908-2012), String Quartet No. 5 (1995); Pacifica Quartet, live, Tokyo, 2004
The book itself is sort of a perfect metaphor for a human being. It’s got a front and a back, it’s got a spine, and it’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.
Ever heard this instrument before? (Me neither.)
Kazue Sawai (1941-), bass koto, live, Tokyo, 2009
All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
—Samuel Beckett (1906-1989), “Worstword Ho” (1983)
Close your eyes.
If you don’t have time for this, what do you have time for?
Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996), From me flows what you call Time (1990); La Jolla Symphony (Steven Schick, cond.), live, San Diego, 2008
of this painful world.
—Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), translated from Japanese by Lucien Stryk and Takashi Ikemoto
sounds of Japan
Frothiness is next to godliness.
Perfume, “Pick Me Up,” 2015
Why start the week with the same old stuff?
Derek Bailey (1930-2005, guitar), Min Tanaka (1945-, dance), Japan, 1993
For you fleas too,
The night must be long,
It must be lonely.
—Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828; translated from Japanese by R. H. Blyth)
the beat goes on
Nineteen hundred posts—and counting.