One of my favorite instrumental albums needs a bit of backstory. First of all, Satsuki Shibano’s Rendez-vous is not entirely a work of hers. Be that as it may, it’s entirely her own vision you see rework French neo-impressionist composer Pascal Comelade’s prior oeuvre into something far more intriguing. Joined by Yoshio Ojima, and released in 1991 on the WACOAL label, Rendez-vous showed her spreading her influences to their expanse, striking a pose that’s still remarkably contemporary. Electronic, organic, and (at points) ready for the dance floor, it sounds like little else she’s known for.
Satsuki has always had a special heart in Japanese culture. As a young musician, she studied in Tokyo, under Aiko Iguchi, mastering her piano technique. Under Jean-Joël Barbier, one of the world’s eminent Erik Satie scholars and teachers, Satsuki would advance her own method, turning out in Paris to perform one of her first impressive Satie concerts and recitals. That swift rise in notoriety, from 1983–1984, gave her the impetus to come back to Japan, to fully explore her impressionist influences, in a contemporary form.
In Japan, she managed to befriend a young Yoshio Ojima and begin a quite long and fruitful, musical relationship together, and (in a way) with the new avant garde. Her first release would be Erik Satie (France 1866-1925), on Satoshi Ashikawa’s Sound Process record label, a complete collection of new Satie interpretations, seemingly out of step with what most thought was in line for her.
Rather than head to the classical world, Satsuki went into the world of environmental music. Understanding the original concept Satie presented, Satsuki put her effort with those closer to its spirit. So, this third part of the Wave Notation Series presented a brilliantly arranged and performed collection that really posited how close Satie got to this new idea of interior sound design.
After this release, Satsuki would release two definitive collection of Satie classical albums and afterward began her peering, at other places to explore. Going inward, Satsuki would work with Hiroshi Yoshimura (arguably Japan’s answer to Satie) and perform on 静けさの本 (Static), a collection of piano works Mr. Yoshimura thought her capable hands would be the best to perform. Under the influence of Harold Budd and Brian Eno, as well, by then, Satsuki’s playing can audibly be felt as more ambient and minimalist. It’s something she’d further extend into the work of future WACOAL label mate Motohiko Hamase.
In Motohiko’s ♯Notes Of Forestry, Satsuki would freely glide over the complex, rhythmic New Age music that Mr. Hamase was creating. On this, the first recorded session with Yoshio Ojima, Satsuki’s crystalline piano playing was given the ability to shape-shift and become even more hazy and meditative. In between all the sonic interplay and technological overgrowth, somehow, it was Satsuki’s playing that truly grounded Motohiko’s latest work. In 1991, now with all this personal advancement, Satsuki found a new composer’s work particularly intriguing.
Hearing the breath of Pascal Comelade’s work, Satsuki understood that this, his style was a genuine evolution of that impressionist work she’d heard in Satie and Debussy. It was intangible for her why she fell in love with his music, but she knew she had to perform it. For her next work, she had to give Pascal’s work the proper interpretation it demanded. Knowing his creative process, burgeoning on rigorous or deliberately free-form, meant that she couldn’t perform it straight, Satsuki would need to further her ideas even more. Although, Pascal’s work were minimalist, they had an edge to them that Satie’s didn’t. Adding that extra edge to her own interpretation gave the album ideas that were brimfull to explore.
This time around, working with Yoshio Ojima, Satsuki would introduce samplers, drum machines, computers, prepared pianos, found percussion, and all sorts of new gadgetry to augment her normal setup. This time around, vocals, largely sung by Satsuki, would add expression to the music. It was something that meaningfully pushed her out of her comfort zone. Surprisingly, though, it allowed her to have fun and open up to this music.
What this album actually doesn’t sound like is classical music. Strains of ambient pop seem circle songs like “Jac B. and His Dancing Dogs”, sublime minimalist balladry floats around songs like “Wyatt Ah Um”, and deep house music seems to infiltrate her reimagining of “Courant D’air Sur Le Pommier Du Japon”. There are gorgeous strains of that neo-impressionism Pascal perfected in songs like “Les Filles Du Calvaire” but never does it sound “straight”.
Tasteful, unlikely choices — perhaps in judicious samples and inorganic sonic twists — by Satsuki and Yoshio keep all this music firmly forward-thinking and featherweight. Somehow, it’s like if Satsuki took Pascale’s own imaginative covers of others’ songs, then put the mirror back on the spirit behind those reworkings. For this and other reasons, to this day, it’s still a fascinating album, hopefully, one you can understand why it throws every windy curveball at you.