Ambient. New Age. Japan. The tags almost write the post itself, right? Yet, we still have to talk about this intriguing turn by Akira Mitake. Akira Mitake’s Himawari (or Sunflower) was released in 1987 as a complement to, don’t quote me on this: NHK’s 8-part documentary, 日本～その心とかたち～, Japan – Its Heart and Shape, a historical account of Japan’s influential, ink-based painting techniques and art. Himawari was its gorgeous, seemingly, quiet soundtrack, a personal work meeting its expressionistic vision with delicate music. Unfortunately, like many things, it’s been unfairly lost to those who never had a chance to tune in to its original run showcasing Akira’s meditative electronic vignettes.
Was it always supposed to be this way? It shouldn’t have. Together with close friend Masami Tsuchiya, Akira had born this band, Ippu-Do, in the late ‘70s, providing Japanese audiences an outlet for those who wanted pop music of a different sort, one aware of little crevices in “alternative” music yet to be fully explored (at least, in their neck of the world).
From his home city, Tokyo, Akira and Masami took their art school leanings into the realm of music, using New Romantic aesthetics and Krautrock-influenced sonics to play something far different than what their more known compatriots in YMO were releasing. In Ippu-Do, Akira had the responsibilities of composing, arranging, and playing keyboards, while letting violinist/guitarist Masami (perhaps, unfairly) take the spotlight and assume the role of songwriter and singer.
What began as an electro-pop trio with drummer Shoji Fujii, led to quietly successful albums and tours to promote their earliest releases like the art rock-leaning Normal and their star-making turn on 1981’s Radio Fantasy where they would shed much of their earlier punk leanings for something more angular, funkier, and atmospheric. Just a year later, huge Japanese cosmetic company Kanebo’s use of “すみれ September Love” in a commercial campaign launched what was once this a much harder sell as a musical unit, into the larger world of mass popularity.
Ippu-Do’s Plant Music, their followup, as amazing as it was, would mark a turning point for what was now the duo of Akira and Masami. Joined by Japan’s Richard Barbieri and Steve Jansen, together, they created something in spirit with the impressionistic music of heroes like Brian Eno, Steve Reich, and new school ambient musicians. Masami had already signalled that his artistic vision was already exceeding what the rest of the crew wanted to explore. 1982’s Rice Music and ‘83’s Alone are testaments to this. Akira’s 1983 release, Out Of Reach, his reply back, signalled to Masami that he had space to catch up.
To what might have been the chagrin of their record company, the leading single from 1983’s Plant Music, “African Nights”, wasn’t enticing enough for their large audiences to understand what the hell they were going for here. Separately and together, this group had finally hit upon something distinctly theirs. They managed to reconcile the outer leanings they both had explored recently. Less European and American, it’s that sound heard here that would lead to smaller audiences, perhaps not ready for what was going to come next.
Just a year later, in 1984, Ippu-Do would abruptly call it an end (by acknowledging the end of their creative agreements). Live And Zen can’t help but be seen as the bittersweet live album full of personal hits and new directions they both wanted to take.
While Masami would go back to successfully explore the fringes of Japanese synthpop on albums like Tokyo Ballet and Life In Mirrors, Akira sought to make a living behind the scenes. His failed star-making turn planted a seed that perhaps he was better suited to help others who wanted that limelight. Akira’s plentiful and varied credits arranging, playing or contributing to pop singers like Tsukasa Ito, Kyoko Koizumi, and Hiromi Go. Professionally, this kind of work was enough to keep him going. Steady jobs soundtracking TV dramas, commercials, and anime, in effect, sidelining his solo ambition for a steady income. However, when NHK came calling it appeared to rekindle something in Akira.
On a musical level, Himawari shares more in common with the atmospheric work he contributed to Plants’ Music. Count on your fingers how many instruments you can count on songs like the titular track “向日葵” or “懐古の雫”. Retreating from the maximalism of before, on Himari, Akira mostly uses keys and barely heard pads to approximate the sonorities required to properly give the subject he was meant to soundtrack its due. Its romantic minimalism has more in common with the pastoral work of the late, great Masahide Sakuma than it does with the shiftless wallpaper BGM favored by today’s network TV.
This tone of hovering music, one that skims right above you, allows songs like “冷艶の窓辺” (Cold, Glossy, Windowsill) to maintain this hazy mystery that’s very much intimate and inviting. Other songs like “愛しの玲衣” move, just, so, approximating introspective lullabies or relaxing circular music. That naval-gazing is what makes “螢雪” (or Firefly), a one-man violin piece, bigger than the sum of its parts. There’s a delicate weaving, at least, compositionally, that makes you wonder what would have been the case if Akira let this side come out earlier.
Oh well, those are just the kind of things (and questions begging for an answer) one dreams about while letting songs like “蘭麝の園” circle around and Himawari, itself, breeze away.