Hiroshi Yoshimura’s lesser-known 1986 followup to his 1982 milestone ‘Music For Nine Postcards’ is a wonderful thing; all naturalistic but space-agey arpeggios and melodic cascades that ooze a sense of calm, deceptively complex wonderment.
Since Maxwell August Croy and Spencer Doran’s Empire Of Signs label issued ‘Music for Nine Postcards’ back in 2017, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s body of work has mushroomed in influence, extending beyond niche circles deep into the algorithm, where his idea of “environmental” music - composed with the specific purpose of enhancing the listener’s experience of the spaces around them - has had a real moment of resurgence where seemingly every piece he put together for museums, galleries, public spaces, TV shows, video art, fashion shows, even perfume - found itself on the reissue conveyor belt.
‘Green’ is special though; made of more complex materials to form an immersive listening experience undoubtedly designed and intended for more than just architectural enhancement. It’s undoubtedly music that caresses rather than pummels the senses, but here there’s an emotional ambiguity, a sense of melancholy that extends back to Satie’s Gymnopédies - it’s impossible to drape the work as mere decoration, such is its emotional pull.
Green was also one of Yoshimura’s own personal favourites, and as he explained in the original liner notes, the album title in the context of this body of work was not meant to be seen as a colour, but rather used to convey “the comfortable scenery of the natural cycle known as Green” - in other words, it's less about manmade structures, more about the natural world. In fact, listening to ‘Green’ in the twenty twenties feels like a glimpse at an alien civilisation, we’ve travelled so far from the source, destroyed so much, in such a short space of time.
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Hiroshi Yoshimura’s lesser-known 1986 followup to his 1982 milestone ‘Music For Nine Postcards’ is a wonderful thing; all naturalistic but space-agey arpeggios and melodic cascades that ooze a sense of calm, deceptively complex wonderment.
Since Maxwell August Croy and Spencer Doran’s Empire Of Signs label issued ‘Music for Nine Postcards’ back in 2017, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s body of work has mushroomed in influence, extending beyond niche circles deep into the algorithm, where his idea of “environmental” music - composed with the specific purpose of enhancing the listener’s experience of the spaces around them - has had a real moment of resurgence where seemingly every piece he put together for museums, galleries, public spaces, TV shows, video art, fashion shows, even perfume - found itself on the reissue conveyor belt.
‘Green’ is special though; made of more complex materials to form an immersive listening experience undoubtedly designed and intended for more than just architectural enhancement. It’s undoubtedly music that caresses rather than pummels the senses, but here there’s an emotional ambiguity, a sense of melancholy that extends back to Satie’s Gymnopédies - it’s impossible to drape the work as mere decoration, such is its emotional pull.
Green was also one of Yoshimura’s own personal favourites, and as he explained in the original liner notes, the album title in the context of this body of work was not meant to be seen as a colour, but rather used to convey “the comfortable scenery of the natural cycle known as Green” - in other words, it's less about manmade structures, more about the natural world. In fact, listening to ‘Green’ in the twenty twenties feels like a glimpse at an alien civilisation, we’ve travelled so far from the source, destroyed so much, in such a short space of time.
Hiroshi Yoshimura’s lesser-known 1986 followup to his 1982 milestone ‘Music For Nine Postcards’ is a wonderful thing; all naturalistic but space-agey arpeggios and melodic cascades that ooze a sense of calm, deceptively complex wonderment.
Since Maxwell August Croy and Spencer Doran’s Empire Of Signs label issued ‘Music for Nine Postcards’ back in 2017, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s body of work has mushroomed in influence, extending beyond niche circles deep into the algorithm, where his idea of “environmental” music - composed with the specific purpose of enhancing the listener’s experience of the spaces around them - has had a real moment of resurgence where seemingly every piece he put together for museums, galleries, public spaces, TV shows, video art, fashion shows, even perfume - found itself on the reissue conveyor belt.
‘Green’ is special though; made of more complex materials to form an immersive listening experience undoubtedly designed and intended for more than just architectural enhancement. It’s undoubtedly music that caresses rather than pummels the senses, but here there’s an emotional ambiguity, a sense of melancholy that extends back to Satie’s Gymnopédies - it’s impossible to drape the work as mere decoration, such is its emotional pull.
Green was also one of Yoshimura’s own personal favourites, and as he explained in the original liner notes, the album title in the context of this body of work was not meant to be seen as a colour, but rather used to convey “the comfortable scenery of the natural cycle known as Green” - in other words, it's less about manmade structures, more about the natural world. In fact, listening to ‘Green’ in the twenty twenties feels like a glimpse at an alien civilisation, we’ve travelled so far from the source, destroyed so much, in such a short space of time.
Hiroshi Yoshimura’s lesser-known 1986 followup to his 1982 milestone ‘Music For Nine Postcards’ is a wonderful thing; all naturalistic but space-agey arpeggios and melodic cascades that ooze a sense of calm, deceptively complex wonderment.
Since Maxwell August Croy and Spencer Doran’s Empire Of Signs label issued ‘Music for Nine Postcards’ back in 2017, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s body of work has mushroomed in influence, extending beyond niche circles deep into the algorithm, where his idea of “environmental” music - composed with the specific purpose of enhancing the listener’s experience of the spaces around them - has had a real moment of resurgence where seemingly every piece he put together for museums, galleries, public spaces, TV shows, video art, fashion shows, even perfume - found itself on the reissue conveyor belt.
‘Green’ is special though; made of more complex materials to form an immersive listening experience undoubtedly designed and intended for more than just architectural enhancement. It’s undoubtedly music that caresses rather than pummels the senses, but here there’s an emotional ambiguity, a sense of melancholy that extends back to Satie’s Gymnopédies - it’s impossible to drape the work as mere decoration, such is its emotional pull.
Green was also one of Yoshimura’s own personal favourites, and as he explained in the original liner notes, the album title in the context of this body of work was not meant to be seen as a colour, but rather used to convey “the comfortable scenery of the natural cycle known as Green” - in other words, it's less about manmade structures, more about the natural world. In fact, listening to ‘Green’ in the twenty twenties feels like a glimpse at an alien civilisation, we’ve travelled so far from the source, destroyed so much, in such a short space of time.
Green colour vinyl.
Out of Stock
Hiroshi Yoshimura’s lesser-known 1986 followup to his 1982 milestone ‘Music For Nine Postcards’ is a wonderful thing; all naturalistic but space-agey arpeggios and melodic cascades that ooze a sense of calm, deceptively complex wonderment.
Since Maxwell August Croy and Spencer Doran’s Empire Of Signs label issued ‘Music for Nine Postcards’ back in 2017, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s body of work has mushroomed in influence, extending beyond niche circles deep into the algorithm, where his idea of “environmental” music - composed with the specific purpose of enhancing the listener’s experience of the spaces around them - has had a real moment of resurgence where seemingly every piece he put together for museums, galleries, public spaces, TV shows, video art, fashion shows, even perfume - found itself on the reissue conveyor belt.
‘Green’ is special though; made of more complex materials to form an immersive listening experience undoubtedly designed and intended for more than just architectural enhancement. It’s undoubtedly music that caresses rather than pummels the senses, but here there’s an emotional ambiguity, a sense of melancholy that extends back to Satie’s Gymnopédies - it’s impossible to drape the work as mere decoration, such is its emotional pull.
Green was also one of Yoshimura’s own personal favourites, and as he explained in the original liner notes, the album title in the context of this body of work was not meant to be seen as a colour, but rather used to convey “the comfortable scenery of the natural cycle known as Green” - in other words, it's less about manmade structures, more about the natural world. In fact, listening to ‘Green’ in the twenty twenties feels like a glimpse at an alien civilisation, we’ve travelled so far from the source, destroyed so much, in such a short space of time.
Clear and Green Swirl colour vinyl.
Out of Stock
Hiroshi Yoshimura’s lesser-known 1986 followup to his 1982 milestone ‘Music For Nine Postcards’ is a wonderful thing; all naturalistic but space-agey arpeggios and melodic cascades that ooze a sense of calm, deceptively complex wonderment.
Since Maxwell August Croy and Spencer Doran’s Empire Of Signs label issued ‘Music for Nine Postcards’ back in 2017, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s body of work has mushroomed in influence, extending beyond niche circles deep into the algorithm, where his idea of “environmental” music - composed with the specific purpose of enhancing the listener’s experience of the spaces around them - has had a real moment of resurgence where seemingly every piece he put together for museums, galleries, public spaces, TV shows, video art, fashion shows, even perfume - found itself on the reissue conveyor belt.
‘Green’ is special though; made of more complex materials to form an immersive listening experience undoubtedly designed and intended for more than just architectural enhancement. It’s undoubtedly music that caresses rather than pummels the senses, but here there’s an emotional ambiguity, a sense of melancholy that extends back to Satie’s Gymnopédies - it’s impossible to drape the work as mere decoration, such is its emotional pull.
Green was also one of Yoshimura’s own personal favourites, and as he explained in the original liner notes, the album title in the context of this body of work was not meant to be seen as a colour, but rather used to convey “the comfortable scenery of the natural cycle known as Green” - in other words, it's less about manmade structures, more about the natural world. In fact, listening to ‘Green’ in the twenty twenties feels like a glimpse at an alien civilisation, we’ve travelled so far from the source, destroyed so much, in such a short space of time.