Ryuichi Sakamoto is best known for his film scores and his through-composed brand of techno pop. He has also written enough piano music (of the unplugged kind) from his student days to the present to fill a CD. The works average four to six minutes in length apiece, yet they add up to a beautifully arranged hour-plus program that takes the listener through a wide range of moods, keyboard textures, and stylistic allusions. Within seconds after the opening selection Tong Poo commences, your ears will smile at its curvaceous, light-jazz aura. The harmonically rich, Bolero-inspired Bachata is followed by an Intermezzo that might have been composed by a kinder, gentler composer than the Brahms who inspired it. I hear less Montmartre in the gorgeous tuneful Chanson than I do the late Bill Evans’ graceful ghost watching over the fragile harmonies. Lorenz and Watson, on the other hand, is an out-and-out Satie send-up. Three short Suites for piano (one minute each) date from Sakamoto’s 18th year, and reveal his latent lyric gift buried beneath slabs of clusters and torrential Messiaen chordal landslides. By contrast, La Dispersion, La Limite, Le Sable, explores the piano’s innards with minimum effort and maximum effect. Two nature-inspired encores dance off the keyboard, leaving us wanting more.
Chitose Okashiro has that rare gift for immediately establishing the right sound-world for each piece and telling its full story. She not only commands the often difficult writing with no effort at all, but also gets under the music’s skin with the same grace and idiomatic ease I’ve enjoyed in her Scriabin releases. J. Y. Song is the pianist who lends a hand (actually two) in the opening salvo. Kathy Henkel’s excellent notes tell everything you need to know. The sonics, if a little too tightly miked for my taste, are crisp and true to timbre. For unusual, memorable, light and delicious contemporary fare, this is a disc you should not miss.
