Echoes of Youth:

Exploring Childhood Soundscapes and Landscape

I am in a unique position as a pianist who performs a repertoire of Western music, including contemporary music, a female artist from the East working in the West, and a researcher researching on microtonal piano in Western research institutions using English and Norwegian, which are not my native languages.

While I am positioned outside of the so-called 'mainstreams', this also means that I possess a distinctive perspective.

In other words, my experience - the personal journey that led me to the concept of 'microtonality' - arose not from a single perspective, but from a place where multiple cultural contexts intersect.

Furthermore, as a contemporary music pianist, constantly performing works created by others requires me to assimilate each composer's cultural background, musical language, and sensibility into my own body and sensibility, and express them through performance.
Whether it's a personal encounter or a literary one, meeting with the works and the composers behind them provides me with an entrance to worlds I had not known before.

"Said: One of the striking things about the kind of work you (Daniel Barenboim) do is that you act as an interpreter, as a performer — an artist concerned not so much with the articulation of the self, but rather with the articulation of other selves.
That’s a challenge.
The interesting thing about Goethe—and also about our experience in Weimar ^[1] − was that art, for Goethe especially, was all about a voyage to the 'other', and not concentrating on oneself, which is very much a minority view today.
There is more of a concentration today on the affirmation of identity, on the need for roots, on the values of one’s culture and one’s sense of belonging. It’s become quite rare to project one’s self outward, to have a broader perspective.
In your work as a performer, Daniel, and in my work as an interpreter—an interpreter of literature and literary criticism—one has to accept the idea that one is putting one’s own identity to the side in order to explore the 'other'.”

Barenboim, Daniel, Edward W. Said, and Ara Guzelimian. 2004. Parallels and Paradoxes: Explorations in Music and Society. New York: Vintage Books.

As Barenboim and Said point out, performing others' works as a performer is a challenge to temporarily set aside one's own identity and express the self of others. It's an attempt to transcend the self and incorporate others' perspectives to reach a higher level of understanding. At the same time, this process reaches an understanding that cannot be verbalized through the physical and direct perception of the works of others.

“(…) personal identity is somehow formed out of an encounter between the self and what is outside the self; that it is both culturally constructed and inflected by intuitive subjectivity. (…) Interpres in Latin is the agent between two parties, a broker or negotiator.”

Bostridge, Ian. 2023. Song & Self: A Singer’s Reflections on Music and Performance. Randy L. and Melvin R. Berlin Family Lectures. Chicago [Illinois]: University of Chicago Press.

However, there is one of the most exciting aspects of playing contemporary music. It is the possibility of interaction between living human beings. My identity (not a singular, but pluralistic and multiple^[2] ) can also provide composers with a world they did not know.

Hokkaido to Tokyo period.

From childhood to young adulthood, the soundscape of our environment may play a crucial role in shaping our musical perspectives and worldviews. In my case, growing up in Japan and the experience of being exposed to a diverse range of music fostered a unique musical sensibility.

The annual Kohaku Utagassen^[3] watched with family at the end of each year, followed by the resonating Joya no Kane^[4], symbolized a soundscape where Japanese tradition intersected with modernity. Watching MTV over my father's shoulder opened a window to the world of overseas music, laying the groundwork for naturally accepting a fusion of Japanese and Western soundscapes.

The piano in the house was a place of direct interaction with music. Although I did not like to practice, I discovered the joy of being exposed to different genres of music and adding my own interpretations to them by playing my parents' sheet music^[5] from cover to cover. Listening to my own edited casset tapes^[6] in the car on the way to my weekly piano lessons was a pleasure to create my own musical world.

When I was around 12 or 13 years old, I insisted on playing Balakirev's 'Islamey' for the annual piano recital at my music school. I convinced my parents to buy me the sheet music, and I remember finding the practice strangely enjoyable at the time. I even went as far as recording it, so I must have really been 'on the same wavelength' with the piece. Looking back now, I realize that even before 'Islamey', I had enjoyed playing Bartók and had a preference for pieces that could be described as 'ethnic' or 'Indigenous'. Perhaps this was an early sign of my tendency to be interested in music that went beyond 12TET and what might be called normative music.

Living alone in Tokyo was an opportunity to further deepen my relationship with music. The habit of visiting Tower Records in Shibuya, listening to the recommendations on each floor (music genres were divided by floor, up to the 8th floor) and noting desired CDs, cultivated an approach to explore new musical possibilities by traversing various music genres (between the floors) and freeing myself from fixed musical notions.
Attending classical concerts by renowned domestic and international artists nightly^[7] gave me the opportunity to experience the power of live music and the special 'ma' created between performers and audience.

These diverse musical experiences merged in my mind as 'chanpon-like^[8]' musical experiences, and formed a unique musical perspective.
This led to reconsidering the possibilities of the 'fixed' instrument that is the piano, and to posing the question, "What can a piano do?"

Transcending Cultural Boundaries: Experiences in Okinawa and Bali

There's a band and its songs that are inseparable from this microtonal journey of mine:
When I was only about 10 years old, I encountered a song called 'Shima Uta (1992)' by a Japanese band called "THE BOOM." The song was about the Battle of Okinawa at the end of World War II. The subject matter and the music itself, including the unique, fleeting sound of the sanshin, had a profound impact on me at the time. I persistently begged my parents to take me to Okinawa. This wish was finally fulfilled during my honeymoon, and on the day we landed, we visited the 'Himeyuri Peace Memorial Museum'.（Read more: 'Shima Uta & Okinawa'）

The experience in Okinawa made me deeply aware of the connection between music and history.
From then on, whenever I had the chance, I would go to Okinawa, witnessing the scars of history on both the main island and the outlying islands.（Related pages: Musical Crossroads, 'Shima Uta & Okinawa'）
At the same time, I observed people engaged with music - especially on the outlying islands, when the sun starts to set, the sound of sanshin can be heard from all around, with someone singing. I felt the difference between music performed for show and music played as if pouring out one's heart.

At the time, I never imagined that this Okinawa-related experience would indirectly relate to this project, but my encounter with 'Shima Uta and the band "THE BOOM" led to my later encounter with gamelan music.

When I heard their song 'Berangkat', released in 1994, I was captivated by the enigmatic calls and the mysterious sounds of the instruments in the prelude and in the background of the song.
At the time, the internet was not yet widespread, so I came across the keyword ‘Bali’ through magazines and television about the song, looked it up on a map and immediately understood that it was too far away and gave up the idea of visiting without even asking my parents.
It was almost 25 years later that the visit came true.

The subtle fluctuations in sound that cannot be fully expressed by Western 12-TET, especially on the piano, are a common characteristic found in these musical traditions.

At the same time, I would like to note that it is important to deeply understand and respect the fact that Western music scene has created countless masterpieces within the framework of 12-tone equal temperament. Moreover, in the realm of microtonal music, we should not forget that there are people who are profoundly moved by various aspects, such as the new octave division systems or just intonation.
The key point is that the concept of ‘there are as many bubbles as there are existences’, which is also related to the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, suggests a worldview where diverse musical expressions and cultures coexist. And where these bubbles intersect, interactions arise, leading to new understandings and expressions.
With this in mind, I would like to consider the principles of 'sound fluctuations' observed in various musical cultures.

Sound Fluctuations: A Common Thread in Musical Expression Across Cultures

The principle behind these 'sound fluctuations' can be described as what in Western terms would be called vocal glissando in singing, or in gamelan music, paired instruments are tuned at slightly different pitches, and the sound fluctuations (ombak) resulting from these differences create the unique gamelan sound, or in sanshin and shamisen, the distinctive timbre which produced by the 'sawari', a unique noise（non-integer harmonics） that "falls outside the Western definition of music" produced when the vibrations of the strings touch the neck.
In Japan, many traditional instruments were modified to produce these non-integer harmonics, forming a unique musical culture.^[10]

It seems that the key lies in the 'noise that falls outside the Western definition of music,' so I'd like to examine the non-integer harmonics and the Japanese^[11] listening brain, which I touched upon in 'Timbral Revelations', as well as the concept of 'mono no aware' from Motoori Norinaga's philosophy^[12].

'Mono no aware' and Music: Exploring Japanese Sensibility

According to Motoori Norinaga's philosophy, "songs are born from knowing 'mono no aware'." Here, 'mono no aware' refers to a profound sensibility that perceives the pathos of things and the movements of the heart-mind (kokoro) as they are, encompassing a deep, often bittersweet awareness of the transience and beauty of all things, achieved through immediate and direct knowledge rather than relying on logic.

Norinaga further states, "Singing a song is an act that occurs when one can no longer contain the emotions stirred by 'mono no aware'." In other words, when one's heart is profoundly moved by the ephemeral nature of the world and the depth of this feeling becomes overwhelming, it naturally gives rise to song.

When one can no longer contain this 'mono no aware', Norinaga explains, 'The words that spontaneously bloom forth are inevitably elongated and possess a certain texture. This is precisely what we call a song.' This description of 'elongated and possessing texture' seems to beautifully capture the essence of 'sound fluctuations.'

From this perspective, for Japanese people, non-integer harmonics and subtle pitch fluctuations are not merely acoustic characteristics, but can be interpreted as musical expressions of the Japanese sensitivity to 'mono no aware'. In other words, these 'fluctuating sounds' are sonic expressions of subtle emotions that cannot be fully expressed in words, and sensitivity to the transience of the world.

Interestingly, according to Professor Tadanobu Tsunoda's research, individuals raised in a Japanese linguistic environment tend to process language, emotions, and sounds including non-integer harmonics in the left brain.
This suggests that such individuals may perceive these 'fluctuating sounds' as meaningful information, akin to language.

This Japanese musical sensibility seems to resonate with traditional music from various regions such as Okinawa, Bali, Ainu and Amami. The 'subtle sound fluctuations' common to these musical traditions appear to be deeply connected to human emotions and the perception of transience.
I can say that the emotions evoked by the history of these lands and the 'fluctuations of sound' are received and processed in the same cognitive space within me. (See also "The 'Sensation of Riding the Wave'" in 'Timbral Revelations')

However, differences in sensibilities can sometimes make our inter-understanding difficult.
For my part, while I intuitively grasp concepts like 'mono no aware' and 'ma', and deeply resonate with Japanese ways of listening to sound and philosophical reflections, I find understanding Western philosophy, particularly theories related to perception, to require significant effort.
As a native Japanese speaker, I feel Western music theory is like Norwegian or English to me - to be frank, it barely resonates with my physical sensibilities.
This means that, 'strictly speaking within the context of music', my default way of perceiving things is inherently Japanese, and when other rules (for example, Western rules) are applied to it, these rules don't sit well with me, or to put it extremely, they feel almost pathological to me.

There are two interesting examples of this. The first is the case of tenor Ian Bostridge, whose work seems to embody, in some sense, the interplay between 'mono no aware' and what could be called "norms and deviations." (See 'Beyond Boundaries')

Educated as a historian and having worked as a university-based historian until the age of thirty, my musical life was always outside this academic structure. I never learned to play an instrument, I never studied harmony and counterpoint.
Singing the Romantic songs of Schubert, Schumann, Brahms, and Wolf, my self-legitimation did not come from an academic understanding of the poetico-musical texts that I loved and sang but from a commitment to a sort of intensity of utterance and that search to be so immersed in the music that singer and song merge.
My singerly practice was never about transparency but about merger and that paradoxical escape from the self that a certain intensity of performance can bring.”

Bostridge, Ian. 2023. Song & Self: A Singer’s Reflections on Music and Performance. Randy L. and Melvin R. Berlin Family Lectures. Chicago [Illinois]: University of Chicago Press.

The second is a story I heard while working at a music high school in Oslo. A violinist who received musical training from Indian parents entered the school as an already exceptional musician. However, this violinist struggled with 'scale etudes'. The reason was that this violinist’s concept of scales was rooted in Indian scales, and 'adapting' to the twelve-tone equal temperament scale required tremendous effort.

To borrow Motoori Norinaga's words: "Even if one encounters something imbued with 'mono no aware', those who do not know 'aware' will not even think 'aware'. Without being aware of 'aware,' no song will arise."
Applying this idea to microtones, while some may be moved by the delicate fluctuations of microtonal sound, others might remain indifferent to these subtle changes. Those who cannot perceive the aware of microtones may also fail to grasp the essence of the music born from those sounds. (Refer to the 'two slightly "off" A notes' in 'Introduction')

Cultural Differences in Sensitivity and Challenges in Mutual Understanding

These differences in sensibility are deeply rooted in cultural backgrounds and individual experiences, and can become factors that hinder our interactions - and makes mutual understanding difficult.
For instance, when I presented my project at a conference, the essential aspects I wanted to convey were largely ignored or misunderstood; instead, attention was focused solely on "microtones" as a technical aspect of music theory.
Such discomfort and unease seem also related to mutual understanding. Without mutual understanding, no meaningful exchange occurs between people.
When one side imposes its own interests, its own arguments and its own comfort zone on the other, the latter often feels uncomfortable.

This experience strongly reinforced my awareness of the importance of intercultural interaction in music.
The Buddhist concept of shohōmuga ('non-self', ‘anatta’: all phenomena are without a fixed self) teaches that all phenomena are interdependent and that there is no fixed, independent self.
This idea is deeply connected to the intercultural interactions in music, reminiscent of the conversation between Barenboim and Said mentioned at the beginning. To understand and perform music with varying cultural backgrounds, whether significantly different or slightly nuanced, I believe it is necessary to temporarily set aside one's own cultural assumptions and approach the expressions of others with an open mind.

"The highest good is like water. Water benefits all things but does not compete. It dwells in places that most people disdain. Therefore, it is close to the Way."

Lao Tzu. 2006. Tao Te Ching: A New English Version.
Translated by Stephen Mitchell. New York: Harper perennial.

This passage emphasizes the importance of flexibility and humility to stay low, as symbolized by water, which has no fixed form, adapts to the shape of its container, and naturally flows to low places. This humility may be the key to fostering true mutual understanding and creative interaction.

Music and Human Interaction

The Japanese word for "human," ningen, literally means "the 'ma' between people." As this word suggests, music too derives its true brilliance from the interactions between composer and performer, performer and audience, or among co-performers.
The Japanese philosopher Tetsuro Watsuji's concept^[13] of 'aidagara' (relationality, betweenness) is also significant in this context. Watsuji argued that the essence of human existence lies not in individuals but in the 'between', 'ma', spaces of relationships between people.

Each sound has its unique tone colour and meaning, and it is through their interaction — through their 'ma' — that they ultimately form a music work.
By understanding "the sound that exists between sounds," perceiving things from the perspective of 'interacting timbral mixtures' - where individual specificities intersect to create new resonances - may hold the potential to bridge diverse musical cultures and generate novel forms of expression. (Related page: 'Interaction of Color')

As Edward Said noted in Musical Elaborations, "Music has a greater capacity than any other art form to travel, cross boundaries, and create new hybrid forms.^[14]" This recognition highlights music's essential role and its profound impact on people's lives and societies.

The value of music as a means of connecting people and sharing emotions will never be lost, even in an era of technological advancement and digitalization. On the contrary, precisely because efficiency and precision are emphasized today, it is crucial to rediscover and cherish the richness brought by live performances and face-to-face communication.

As the final Echo in 'Echos of Youth', I would like to touch upon the significant work that became the starting point for this project.

Echos of Youth：Unfolding Microtonal Perspectives

My encounter with Gérard Grisey's 'Vortex Temporum' marked a crucial turning point in my musical exploration. The piece itself embodies a process of continual generative change in the whirlpool of time, which became the spore for my journey into microtones, spreading the mycelium of new musical exploration.

In this Echos of Youth page, I have reflected on my musical experiences prior to the project, exploring the cultural context that led to my encounter with microtones.

Various encounters, much like how mycelia build relationships of varying depths with different plants and microorganisms in a forest ecosystem, generated new understanding and expression within me. This continual expansion and deepening were not limited to music but extended through encounters with cultures, histories, and people.

It is my hope that this will continue to evolve into a living network that constantly changes and grows through 'ma' and interaction.

Therefore, this research has no so-called "conclusion." This is because the only way forward, both now and in the future, is to breathe life into each encounter - the 'ma' between myself and the people, music, and phenomena I encounter - and keep my thoughts in constant motion.
While this project itself has focused on displaying the encounters and 'ma' between myself and everything beyond myself - be it people, music, sounds, objects, living beings, or places..., striving to avoid self-centeredness or bias towards anyone's fixed ideas or thoughts, I acknowledge that perfect objectivity does not exist.

Rather, could this very subjectivity not serve as a starting point for new dialogues? My experiences and interpretations continue to evolve through dialogue with others, leading to new understandings and creations. It is an endless journey, a process that continuously generates new 'ma'.

In this sense, this project is merely a passing point. However, the relationships and understandings built here will continue to grow like mycelium, developing in unexpected directions. I believe this is the essential value of this research.

1. In 1999, it was Weimar's turn to be the "European Capital of Culture." On the 250th anniversary of Goethe's birth, Barenboim and Said gathered Arab and Israeli musicians in this city closely associated with him, and together with a few German musicians, they formed an orchestra.
2. "by counterpoint I mean things that can’t be reduced to homophony. That can’t be reduced to a kind of simple reconciliation. (...) I think the one thing that I find, I guess, the most—I wouldn’t say repellent, but I would say antagonistic—for me is identity. The notion of a single identity. And so multiple identity, the polyphony of many voices playing off against each other, without, as I say, the need to reconcile them, just to hold them together, is what my work is all about. More than one culture, more than one awareness, both in its negative and its positive modes. It’s basic instinct." (Said, Edward W. 2007. Power, Politics, and Culture. Westminster: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.)
3. Kohaku Utagassen: An annual New Year's Eve musical television program in Japan, featuring popular singers divided into red and white teams competing against each other. The program showcases a mix of the year's most popular songs and traditional enka music (Japanese Tango).
4. Joya no Kane: The ringing of temple bells 108 times on New Year's Eve, not only broadcast on TV but also performed in temples across Japan. This tradition symbolizes the cleansing of the 108 earthly temptations in Buddhist belief and creates a nationwide auditory experience as the old year transitions into the new.
5. I believe it was mainly classical piano music in general, along with piano arrangements of domestic and international pop and rock music.
6. Regardless of genre, I enjoyed recording radio broadcasts, editing the parts I liked, and recording them onto casset tapes. Listening to these tapes during the hour-long drive to my piano lessons every Saturday was something I looked forward to.
7. My routine consisted of working morning shifts at my part-time job to afford concert tickets, then going to the collage, and finally attending concerts - this cycle repeated itself.
8. Chanpon: A term often used in Japanese to describe a mixture or medley, in this context referring to a diverse blend of musical experiences.
9. Here, I am limiting myself to mentioning what I have personally experienced on-site, but the music of Amami, which I encountered through Keiko Harada's work ‘唄-媒-培  (BAI-BAI-BAI)’, also shares commonalities in terms of 'sound fluctuations'.
10. Nakamura, Akikazu. Baion [Overtones]. Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2004; Koizumi, Fumio. Ongaku no Kongen ni Aru Mono [What Lies at the Root of Music]. Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1994.
11. To avoid misunderstanding, I'll write here as well. The term "Japanese" used in the text does not refer to biological classification or nationality, but to characteristics formed by the language environment. According to Professor Tadanobu Tsunoda's research, it indicates features observed in people who grew up in a Japanese-speaking environment during the crucial language formation period from 6 to 9 years old. (See the premise in the 'Introduction' and 'Echoes of Culture')
12. Motoori, Norinaga. Isonokami no Sasamegoto [Isonokami's Whispers]. 1763.
13. Watsuji, Tetsurō, and Robert E. Carter, eds. 1996. Watsuji Tetsurō’s Rinrigaku. SUNY Series in Modern Japanese Philosophy. Albany: State University of New York Press.
14. "What I mean by «transgression» is something completely literal and secular at the same time: that faculty music has to travel, cross over, drift from place to place in a society, even though many institutions and orthodoxies have sought to confine it.” (Said, Edward W. "Musical Elaborations." New York: Columbia University Press, 1991, xix.)