Eiko Ishibashi's second collaboration with director Ryusuke Hamaguchi is a cryptic, serpentine rumination matching hazy, oddly-tuned drones with grandiose orchestral themes and energetic drum workouts. Remarkable stuff, the perfect follow-up to Ishibashi's beloved 'Drive My Car' score, with every nuance mixed & mastered by Jim O’Rourke.
When Ishibashi was asked to put together an A/V set for a series of overseas shows, she wondered if Hamaguchi might want to collaborate. She'd been struck by his musicality when they worked on 'Drive My Car' in 2021, and he was not only interested in the concept, but had the idea to create a 30-minute film that used Ishibishi's sound to do the emotional heavy lifting in place of dialog. As the project came to life, Hamaguchu decided to extend it into a full feature; he was fascinated by how the actors were moved by Ishibashi's music, so wrote additional sequences featuring dialog, splitting the project into two. 'Gift' was created to answer the original concept, and 'Evil Does Not Exist' became a narrative film, receiving rapturous praise when it debuted on the festival circuit last year.
Both Ishibashi and Hamaguchi see the work as a conversation - Ishibashi's music fuelled Hamaguchi's images, and Hamaguchi devised the visuals to elevate Ishibashi's sounds. That doesn't mean the score on its own is lacking anything; using violin, cello, drums and keys and bringing in Jim O'Rourke to play guitar, Ishibashi creates a poetic, deeply cinematic backdrop that's lifted by her nuanced touches. The title track is a romantic, slow-moving beauty, but the album hits an early high-point with 'Hana', when Ishibashi plays muted, watery synth tones into the theme's bare remnants, introducing subtle environmental recordings to extend the space.
Languid and hypnotic, the synthesised elements provide the album with its emotional backbone; Ishibashi fleshes them out with decorative, Satie-like piano phrases and cavernous drums, but its those woozy pads that hold everything together. On 'Smoke', she plays swift, jazzy phrases, allowing the rhythm to float to the surface above eerie, distorted drones, and on the lengthy 'Missing', she brings all the elements together. Taking time to tell its story, the track pulses like a ticking clock as Ishibashi braids together soft piano tones, subtle strings and ghostly voices before reintroducing the drums that dance around birdsong until halting abruptly.
So, so good.
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Eiko Ishibashi's second collaboration with director Ryusuke Hamaguchi is a cryptic, serpentine rumination matching hazy, oddly-tuned drones with grandiose orchestral themes and energetic drum workouts. Remarkable stuff, the perfect follow-up to Ishibashi's beloved 'Drive My Car' score, with every nuance mixed & mastered by Jim O’Rourke.
When Ishibashi was asked to put together an A/V set for a series of overseas shows, she wondered if Hamaguchi might want to collaborate. She'd been struck by his musicality when they worked on 'Drive My Car' in 2021, and he was not only interested in the concept, but had the idea to create a 30-minute film that used Ishibishi's sound to do the emotional heavy lifting in place of dialog. As the project came to life, Hamaguchu decided to extend it into a full feature; he was fascinated by how the actors were moved by Ishibashi's music, so wrote additional sequences featuring dialog, splitting the project into two. 'Gift' was created to answer the original concept, and 'Evil Does Not Exist' became a narrative film, receiving rapturous praise when it debuted on the festival circuit last year.
Both Ishibashi and Hamaguchi see the work as a conversation - Ishibashi's music fuelled Hamaguchi's images, and Hamaguchi devised the visuals to elevate Ishibashi's sounds. That doesn't mean the score on its own is lacking anything; using violin, cello, drums and keys and bringing in Jim O'Rourke to play guitar, Ishibashi creates a poetic, deeply cinematic backdrop that's lifted by her nuanced touches. The title track is a romantic, slow-moving beauty, but the album hits an early high-point with 'Hana', when Ishibashi plays muted, watery synth tones into the theme's bare remnants, introducing subtle environmental recordings to extend the space.
Languid and hypnotic, the synthesised elements provide the album with its emotional backbone; Ishibashi fleshes them out with decorative, Satie-like piano phrases and cavernous drums, but its those woozy pads that hold everything together. On 'Smoke', she plays swift, jazzy phrases, allowing the rhythm to float to the surface above eerie, distorted drones, and on the lengthy 'Missing', she brings all the elements together. Taking time to tell its story, the track pulses like a ticking clock as Ishibashi braids together soft piano tones, subtle strings and ghostly voices before reintroducing the drums that dance around birdsong until halting abruptly.
So, so good.
Eiko Ishibashi's second collaboration with director Ryusuke Hamaguchi is a cryptic, serpentine rumination matching hazy, oddly-tuned drones with grandiose orchestral themes and energetic drum workouts. Remarkable stuff, the perfect follow-up to Ishibashi's beloved 'Drive My Car' score, with every nuance mixed & mastered by Jim O’Rourke.
When Ishibashi was asked to put together an A/V set for a series of overseas shows, she wondered if Hamaguchi might want to collaborate. She'd been struck by his musicality when they worked on 'Drive My Car' in 2021, and he was not only interested in the concept, but had the idea to create a 30-minute film that used Ishibishi's sound to do the emotional heavy lifting in place of dialog. As the project came to life, Hamaguchu decided to extend it into a full feature; he was fascinated by how the actors were moved by Ishibashi's music, so wrote additional sequences featuring dialog, splitting the project into two. 'Gift' was created to answer the original concept, and 'Evil Does Not Exist' became a narrative film, receiving rapturous praise when it debuted on the festival circuit last year.
Both Ishibashi and Hamaguchi see the work as a conversation - Ishibashi's music fuelled Hamaguchi's images, and Hamaguchi devised the visuals to elevate Ishibashi's sounds. That doesn't mean the score on its own is lacking anything; using violin, cello, drums and keys and bringing in Jim O'Rourke to play guitar, Ishibashi creates a poetic, deeply cinematic backdrop that's lifted by her nuanced touches. The title track is a romantic, slow-moving beauty, but the album hits an early high-point with 'Hana', when Ishibashi plays muted, watery synth tones into the theme's bare remnants, introducing subtle environmental recordings to extend the space.
Languid and hypnotic, the synthesised elements provide the album with its emotional backbone; Ishibashi fleshes them out with decorative, Satie-like piano phrases and cavernous drums, but its those woozy pads that hold everything together. On 'Smoke', she plays swift, jazzy phrases, allowing the rhythm to float to the surface above eerie, distorted drones, and on the lengthy 'Missing', she brings all the elements together. Taking time to tell its story, the track pulses like a ticking clock as Ishibashi braids together soft piano tones, subtle strings and ghostly voices before reintroducing the drums that dance around birdsong until halting abruptly.
So, so good.
Eiko Ishibashi's second collaboration with director Ryusuke Hamaguchi is a cryptic, serpentine rumination matching hazy, oddly-tuned drones with grandiose orchestral themes and energetic drum workouts. Remarkable stuff, the perfect follow-up to Ishibashi's beloved 'Drive My Car' score, with every nuance mixed & mastered by Jim O’Rourke.
When Ishibashi was asked to put together an A/V set for a series of overseas shows, she wondered if Hamaguchi might want to collaborate. She'd been struck by his musicality when they worked on 'Drive My Car' in 2021, and he was not only interested in the concept, but had the idea to create a 30-minute film that used Ishibishi's sound to do the emotional heavy lifting in place of dialog. As the project came to life, Hamaguchu decided to extend it into a full feature; he was fascinated by how the actors were moved by Ishibashi's music, so wrote additional sequences featuring dialog, splitting the project into two. 'Gift' was created to answer the original concept, and 'Evil Does Not Exist' became a narrative film, receiving rapturous praise when it debuted on the festival circuit last year.
Both Ishibashi and Hamaguchi see the work as a conversation - Ishibashi's music fuelled Hamaguchi's images, and Hamaguchi devised the visuals to elevate Ishibashi's sounds. That doesn't mean the score on its own is lacking anything; using violin, cello, drums and keys and bringing in Jim O'Rourke to play guitar, Ishibashi creates a poetic, deeply cinematic backdrop that's lifted by her nuanced touches. The title track is a romantic, slow-moving beauty, but the album hits an early high-point with 'Hana', when Ishibashi plays muted, watery synth tones into the theme's bare remnants, introducing subtle environmental recordings to extend the space.
Languid and hypnotic, the synthesised elements provide the album with its emotional backbone; Ishibashi fleshes them out with decorative, Satie-like piano phrases and cavernous drums, but its those woozy pads that hold everything together. On 'Smoke', she plays swift, jazzy phrases, allowing the rhythm to float to the surface above eerie, distorted drones, and on the lengthy 'Missing', she brings all the elements together. Taking time to tell its story, the track pulses like a ticking clock as Ishibashi braids together soft piano tones, subtle strings and ghostly voices before reintroducing the drums that dance around birdsong until halting abruptly.
So, so good.
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Eiko Ishibashi's second collaboration with director Ryusuke Hamaguchi is a cryptic, serpentine rumination matching hazy, oddly-tuned drones with grandiose orchestral themes and energetic drum workouts. Remarkable stuff, the perfect follow-up to Ishibashi's beloved 'Drive My Car' score, with every nuance mixed & mastered by Jim O’Rourke.
When Ishibashi was asked to put together an A/V set for a series of overseas shows, she wondered if Hamaguchi might want to collaborate. She'd been struck by his musicality when they worked on 'Drive My Car' in 2021, and he was not only interested in the concept, but had the idea to create a 30-minute film that used Ishibishi's sound to do the emotional heavy lifting in place of dialog. As the project came to life, Hamaguchu decided to extend it into a full feature; he was fascinated by how the actors were moved by Ishibashi's music, so wrote additional sequences featuring dialog, splitting the project into two. 'Gift' was created to answer the original concept, and 'Evil Does Not Exist' became a narrative film, receiving rapturous praise when it debuted on the festival circuit last year.
Both Ishibashi and Hamaguchi see the work as a conversation - Ishibashi's music fuelled Hamaguchi's images, and Hamaguchi devised the visuals to elevate Ishibashi's sounds. That doesn't mean the score on its own is lacking anything; using violin, cello, drums and keys and bringing in Jim O'Rourke to play guitar, Ishibashi creates a poetic, deeply cinematic backdrop that's lifted by her nuanced touches. The title track is a romantic, slow-moving beauty, but the album hits an early high-point with 'Hana', when Ishibashi plays muted, watery synth tones into the theme's bare remnants, introducing subtle environmental recordings to extend the space.
Languid and hypnotic, the synthesised elements provide the album with its emotional backbone; Ishibashi fleshes them out with decorative, Satie-like piano phrases and cavernous drums, but its those woozy pads that hold everything together. On 'Smoke', she plays swift, jazzy phrases, allowing the rhythm to float to the surface above eerie, distorted drones, and on the lengthy 'Missing', she brings all the elements together. Taking time to tell its story, the track pulses like a ticking clock as Ishibashi braids together soft piano tones, subtle strings and ghostly voices before reintroducing the drums that dance around birdsong until halting abruptly.
So, so good.