Let’s have a conversation about elegance. What is elegant? The textbook definition of this term seems to strike at two different ideas. One is that something that is elegant is something that is marked by dignity, grace, and simple beauty. The other definition posits that we are elegant (or something is) due to our high quality and/or value. I don’t know about you, but something about how we define “elegance” strikes me as contrapuntal. I know when something is elegant just by looking at it. I think elegance is something that is inherently graceful and beautiful because it has some universal value we all can appreciate. And, boy, today, you won’t hear anything quite as elegant as the gorgeous music of the Shakuyaku Trio and their Shakuyaku Jidai (芍薬時代) (otherwise known as “Peony Era”).
As much as I think it, it’s rare that I talk about something you can share easily with those not too in tune with my oddball tastes. However, Shakuyaku Jidai (芍薬時代) is that rare bird you can put in the background of any person’s world. Unless your parents were born in the thickest, most far flung of backwoods, there’s nothing inherently weird, foreign, or off putting, about the music of Debussy, Bach, Borodin, and Brahms. It’s one of those things: you put on any interpretation of Suite bergamasque, wait for everyone’s favorite movement, and watch people immediately quiet down and imbibe the atmosphere.
However, as we go back to the meaning of elegance, we know there are levels and values of this worth. It’s this ability to surpass expectations and redefine interpretation, to exude grace and dignity, that the violin, piano, and cello trio of Yae Nishikawa, Reiko Nomura, and Yoko Yamaura traffic in. The way they interpret this music (with the help of one Yasuo Higuchi) is still refreshingly different.
Sadly now defunct, the Shakuyaku Trio was founded in 1987, as a trio of elite musicians fresh off graduating from a few of Japan’s most sterling of musical colleges. Hoping to capitalize on their good looks, record companies came calling trying to get them to sign on, trying to market them as cutesy, MOR, classical instrumental fodder for the Japanese masses. Real life, thankfully, turned out to be a different story.
Immediately after signing on to the Victor label they went a different direction. Inspired by the contemporary experimental scene they wanted to explore merging their classical sensibility with progressive ideas. They did so by inviting the unceasingly prolific arranger and composer Yasuo Higuchi to help steer their idea of how classical music can sound like.
For about a year the trio would hunker down in Tokyo selecting a swath of music that touched on highlights from Western classical music. Impressionist songs from Debussy. Baroque classics from Bach. But the vast majority would come from the Romantic era, compositions by Brahms, Borodin, and Saint-Saëns that (seemingly) always feel like they’re open for reinterpretation but rarely are treated with any kind of just abandon.
Using the strictures of the past, to explore all the territory within that canvas, is how Shakuyaku Jidai (芍薬時代) lands on it grace. Unafraid to let the gals have a light and playful touch worked wonders during the session. Reiko’s lyrical piano playing never remained too rigid, allowing herself to integrate that same phrasing to (who would think!) electronic bits and bobs. Yoko’s cello playing adopted a very vocal framework, coming close to matching Hajime Mizoguchi’s take on neoclassical technique. Frequently working in tandem with Yae, they both approximated a world of phrasing in a violin and cello duo.
I just think it’s wonderful that someone could release such a fascinating and playful version of “Le Carnaval Des Animaux-Fantaisie Zoologique” that lives in our world (as much as it breathes the optimistic world of its creation). The beauty of Brahms and Bach shine in their own way with arrangements that fall just right on this side of engaging with its audience. However, this album shines on the tracks where Mr. Higuchi writes special songs just for them.
Songs like the “Prelude” and “Impromptu” and the final “Intermezzo” highlight his own study and fully devoted inspiration to the Impressionist wing. Whether mimicking the hustle and bustle of neo-Tokyo, sweeping you off your feet with jazzy improvisations waiting for a special heartwarming scene, or giving you the aural version of laying a cozy blanket on you after a long day, all of these tracks have sonic things that add up to more than just quirks. This is stuff that still pricks your ears just when you think you were beyond stuff like this.
In the end, it’s a shame that after their next album together, this trio plus one, who would strike even more personal tomes together on 1988’s 芍薬トリオ(Dance), would call it a day. Much like Yukie Nishimura, one wonders what might have happened if things worked out differently for them. Elegant in myriad ways you probably recognize somewhere in your past, Shakuyaku Jidai (芍薬時代) is background music that plainly makes it case to stay at the foreground…and at least for today, I’m not complaining.