“刻” (“A Moment in Time”)
This is the first piece I have ever written that exceeds ten minutes in length.
The following text is my attempt to describe, even imperfectly and sometimes through metaphor, the sensations I experienced while creating this work.
Since it was my first time writing a piece of this scale, naturally there were many moments of “meeting the unknown.”
What struck me most was this:
Even while searching at the piano —
“Perhaps this note? This sound? This phrase?” —
the piece itself seemed to reject my choices, as if saying:
“No, not that.”
Well, I cannot say whether it was truly “the piece” speaking, but something kept responding with:
“Nope,” or,
“That one.”
So for a while, I would proceed one note at a time, wondering:
“Eh? This? Is it really this?”
And then suddenly:
Ah, I understand now. This is the image.
Once that happened, things moved forward surprisingly smoothly.
…Though reaching that point —
from “No, not that” to “Ah, I see…” —
was not particularly easy.
Until then, I had only been capable of writing short pieces.
Of course I had always searched for and chosen sounds carefully, but I had never truly wandered into such a narrow path within the fog.
If I could grasp the overall scenery, I could usually continue composing without too much difficulty.
To have an image appear before you —
it is a wonderful thing.
But perhaps, for me at least, that was also a kind of safe territory.
When the piece becomes longer,
I sometimes feel as though instructions arrive from somewhere:
“Over there.”
And perhaps…
that was precisely the place I had avoided.
That place requires ropes. It requires pitons.
No thank you.
Let us avoid such dangerous footing!
Of course, where “special equipment” becomes necessary differs from person to person.
But still —
“Over there!!!”
Where, exactly, do such instructions come from?
And of course, it was not always only:
“No.”
Sometimes it was more like:
“Well then, we have returned safely.
Let us take this path instead.”
…No?
Eh?
We are going around that way instead?
Um…
There were also moments like:
“This section is far too long…”
Eh?
The structure I planned carefully at my desk last night —
completely rejected?
Cut all of this, and leave the rest untouched?
Really?
We are doing that?
Yes.
There were many such moments.
From somewhere beyond, perhaps it was simply:
“You immature fool, requiring instruction at every step!”
Maybe so.
I have also read reflections suggesting that what is closer to the body is, in a sense, closer to chaos.
What becomes refined inevitably risks becoming more superficial —
perhaps socially so.
The visible field,
the words selected by the mind,
all pass through unconscious choices and omissions.
One could call that intelligence, perhaps.
But I hope that, little by little, I may continue learning how to move more smoothly across that boundary —
allowing deep roots and leaves shining in sunlight to coexist together.
Early Spring
This piece was written during the very early period when I had just begun studying composition.
Using the four seasons as motifs, I composed these works with the shamisen.
Today, I usually begin composing from the piano, but at that time I had never touched a piano before.
I would transfer shamisen notation (bunka-fu) into staff notation according to formal rules.
This piece does not demand any particular way of listening or performing.
Still, if you wish,
perhaps on a day when you suddenly feel at ease,
even if it is not spring,
I would be very happy if you might use it as one of the sounds you gently pluck yourself.
If you play it honestly, according to your own feelings in that moment—
The resonance of sound is not language.
It does not bind you.
Without fixing you in place,
it may carry your feelings softly into the wind,
wash away some of the burdens you have carried,
and little by little make your body lighter.
And as the tones continue to shift and fade,
perhaps they may gradually fill your own being.
Someday,
within the sunlight your heart has come to feel as warm,
if you should arrive at a place of blessing and quiet celebration,
there would be nothing that would make me happier.
I myself used this piece as practice material while studying the shamisen independently.
Recordings from different periods, as well as the score for Early Spring
(originally titled simply “Spring” before release distribution),
are also available on this website.
The version used for distribution is a remixed version of the recording originally published on this site, prepared for TuneCore.
For information regarding the copyright status of the distributed version of Early Spring, please refer to the separate article.
https://asano-kaoru.com/front-notice-early-spring-audio-recording-and-copyright-notice/
