The hisÂtoÂry of ambiÂent music is a difÂfiÂcult stoÂry to tell in the same way we tell othÂer hisÂtoÂries, nameÂly by refÂerÂence to great men and women and the moveÂments they inspired. When it comes to ambiÂent music, there are few stars, and it can be difÂfiÂcult to lump artists togethÂer into catÂeÂgories. But what else would we expect from music designed to exist in the backÂground?
The conÂveÂnient oriÂgin point of the genre is BriÂan Eno’s 1978 Music for AirÂports, the first album released as an “AmbiÂent” record and imagÂined as music made for a waitÂing room. Eno’s spirÂiÂtuÂal foreÂfaÂther, Erik Satie, famousÂly called his minÂiÂmalÂist comÂpoÂsiÂtions “furÂniÂture music” and also thought of them as accomÂpaÂniÂment to munÂdane tasks.
Through these conÂcepÂtuÂal reducÂtions of music to its most utilÂiÂtarÂiÂan function—creating a mildÂly pleasÂant atmosphere—ambient explores the space of dayÂdreamÂing and the vague emoÂtions assoÂciÂatÂed with it. Few comÂposers of ambiÂent have purÂsued the genre’s ostenÂsiÂble purÂpose with as much pracÂtiÂcalÂiÂty and direct appliÂcaÂtion as in Japan, where “the influÂence of minÂiÂmalÂist comÂposers like Philip Glass and TerÂry Riley met a goldÂen era for elecÂtronÂics” in the 1980s, Jack NeedÂham writes at The Guardian.
JapanÂese comÂposers adaptÂed cenÂturies of traÂdiÂtion to dizzyÂing modÂernÂizaÂtion:
TraÂdiÂtionÂal JapanÂese music has mirÂrored its surÂroundÂings for cenÂturies – the shakuhachi, a sevÂenth-cenÂtuÂry bamÂboo flute, was designed to play all 12 tones of the westÂern chroÂmatÂic scale as a way to give voice to nature’s diverÂsiÂty. So in Japan’s 1980s ecoÂnomÂic boom, when cities like Tokyo were mutatÂing at warp speed and Roland synÂtheÂsisÂers replaced the clasÂsiÂcal instruÂment, ambiÂent was reflectÂing these new, hyper-advanced landÂscapes.
The music they made was “unabashedÂly corÂpoÂrate,” becomÂing big busiÂness when Takashi Kokubo’s 1987 album Get at the Wave was “givÂen away with Sanyo air conÂdiÂtionÂing units.” Andy Beta at VulÂture details how JapanÂese ambiÂent music became big in the U.S. through a comÂpiÂlaÂtion called KankyĹŤ Ongaku: JapanÂese EnviÂronÂmenÂtal, AmbiÂent & New Age Music 1980–1990. The title means “enviÂronÂmenÂtal music,” and it was also referred to as “backÂground music,” or BGM by indusÂtry insidÂers (and YelÂlow MagÂic OrchesÂtra). But whatÂevÂer we call it, we canÂnot disÂcuss JapanÂese ambiÂent withÂout refÂerÂence to the pioÂneerÂing work of Hiroshi YoshimuÂra.
Yoshimura’s Green “is an examÂple of JapanÂese minÂiÂmalÂism at its finest,” writes Vivian Yeung at Crack, “with the meldÂing of natÂurÂal sounds—via birds, runÂning water and crickets—to the artiÂfiÂcialÂiÂty of arpegÂgiatÂing synths and soft minÂiÂmal notes deployed to poignant effect.” Wet Land, from 1993, deploys soft synths in minÂiÂmalÂist melodies that recall Satie’s few, well-choÂsen notes. YoshimuÂra’s music has spread far beyond Japan through the same mechÂaÂnism as the recent boom in JapanÂese “city pop”—through YouTube algoÂrithms.
After disÂcovÂerÂing YoshimuÂra online, SPIN’s Andy Cush wrote, “Now, I lisÂten to Yoshimura’s music almost every day, both because I find it tremenÂdousÂly movÂing and because YouTube won’t stop playÂing it.” But there’s far more to the recent popÂuÂlarÂiÂty of JapanÂese ambiÂent music than algoÂrithms, Beta argues, notÂing that the “Satie boom” in postÂwar Japan led to a musiÂcal revÂoÂluÂtion that is perÂhaps parÂticÂuÂlarÂly appealÂing to WestÂern ears. In any case, as one of Yoshimura’s new “acciÂdenÂtal fans” writes, his interÂnet fame has far eclipsed his fame in life.
When he died in 2003, YoshimuÂra “was a footÂnote in music hisÂtoÂry…. His work mostÂly endÂed up as backÂground noise in museÂums, galÂleries or show homes.” BeauÂtiÂful backÂground noise, howÂevÂer, was exactÂly the purÂpose of kankyĹŤ ongaku, and comÂposers like YoshimuÂra did not exceed the brief. Instead, he perÂfectÂed the form conÂceived by Eno as “ignorÂable as it is interÂestÂing,” music made to “induce calm and a space to think.” If you’re cravÂing such an atmosÂphere, you may need to look no farÂther. You can samÂple Yoshimura’s key albums here, and find more of his works (where else?) on YouTube.
RelatÂed ConÂtent:
Hear the Very First Pieces of AmbiÂent Music, Erik Satie’s FurÂniÂture Music (CirÂca 1917)
Josh Jones is a writer and musiÂcian based in Durham, NC. FolÂlow him at @jdmagness.
If we set BriÂan Eno’s “Music for AirÂports” Tape Loops as a parÂaÂdigm, this music fails to grasp the funÂdaÂmenÂtal aesÂthetÂic genius core of what makes Eno’s music revÂoÂluÂtionÂary. NameÂly, it’s NOT MUSIC!. The endÂless loops are timed to introÂduce the next sound in a kind of ranÂdom interval(s) the way in which natÂurÂal sound occurs. If you sit quiÂetÂly and observe how nature sounds enter your body in earÂly mornÂing maybe you’ll get it. YoshimuÂra is makÂing music! HE is makÂing the deciÂsions: which phrase when. So you end up with MUSIC TO LISTEN TO. It requires focused attenÂtion to it. WhereÂas Eno’s music is much closÂer to just being there. Like breathÂing. Yoshi’s music clashÂes with ambiÂent nature sounds occurÂring in my room while playÂing. E.g. the birds outÂside sound irriÂtatÂing to the music. WhereÂas with Eno it’s all works.
This is not to say Yoshimura’s music is “bad”. It’s fine if you like it. Eno’s sound is beyond ENO: a genÂerÂaÂtive art process that will perÂhaps reach a point where the lisÂtenÂers’ bodÂies, bio-rhythms, moods co-creÂate sounds, temÂperÂaÂture, colÂor in a 3D interÂacÂtive enviÂronÂment called your home.
BeauÂtiÂful. While you’re at it, why not a post on Harold Budd, who sadÂly passed away at 84 from Covid-19 on DecemÂber 8.
With or due to covid? HardÂly anyÂone makes the difÂferÂence but it matÂters a great deal…
Is it ok to use these works as backÂground music for my upcomÂing video game?