Ayako Sasaki “Sora”
“Sora”
(Chitei Records) 2003
Ayako Sasaki: Piano, Vocals
Daisuke Fuwa: Bass
Ken Tsuno: Drums, Percussion
Mari Sekino: Percussion
Naohiro Kawashita: Tenor Sax, Soprano Sax
Keiko Komori: Alto Sax, Soprano Sax
Yoichiro Kita: Fluegel Horn
Aya Murodate: Flute
Ayako Sasaki isn’t exactly a jazz singer—her style is too complex to fit categories—but she sings and writes captivating, affecting jazz-ish songs in Japanese. Perhaps because of the different structure of the Japanese language, the rhythms and melody lines she performs are very different from jazz standards, stretching out into different meters with non-English-standard accents. They are intriguingly different from the four-beat, punchy conjunction of rhythm and word of the Great American Songbook. Sasaki’s are deeply Japanese, and deeply beautiful.
Sasaki is probably best known for her association with the rollicking Shibusa Shirazu tribe of musicians. Their earthy, unpredictable style is vastly popular around Tokyo’s underground music scene, as much with jazz maniacs as with alternative music fans and Deadheads alike. Their unplanned, intuitive manner of working songs forms a great deal of the fascinating texture to this CD, though at its core are Sasaki’s singing, playing and composing.
The raucous, open riffs and relaxed playfulness of Shibusa Shirazu musicians, many of whom perform on “Sora,” is, however, toned down and focused into more meditative and emotional arrangements on Sasaki’s solo work. The opening tune, “Tabishibere Song” is a heartbreaker. Sasaki stretches the melody until it sounds like weeping, then balls it back up into resolution and strength. The lyrics, in Japanese, are honest and confessional. The second tune, almost as beautifully fragile as the first, “Aozora,” explores the same reflective, sensitive areas. On both numbers, the band members follow her piano playing to add counterpoint and variegated textures that float through her complicated expressiveness.
On the next two numbers, “Noise” and “Ayako,” the band explodes mid-song into squeals, wails and cries over thumping drums and rattling percussion. Then, as if calling all the emotions back home, Sasaki’s piano lines slow things down and her husky vocals come back in to deliver another chillingly lovely refrain. Somehow, these huge swings of the emotional and sonic pendulum work wonderfully.
The melody for “Tao” sounds like a pop tune, but with a more complex range of thoughts and feelings. The band leaps in, as always, with equal parts disruption and total agreement. The band fits together with her singing, giving her space, and time, to extend her lines, or cut them short. The last tune, “Yotaka,” takes off with even greater urgency and Sasaki really lets loose. The band’s many wild additions never get in the way, but add emphasis to her at times mournful, at times exuberant, vocals. They have masterfully captured a style that seems natural and casual, yet is obviously practiced and considered.
Sasaki’s vocals and lyrics are at the heart of this work. Her voice has a pleasing, honest roughness to it, and her lyrics, though complex, are calming even while being clever and analytical. For jazz fans who wonder why more singers don’t sing in Japanese, this CD is a good reason why they should. For jazz fans who love affecting, unique music, this CD will be a real pleasure.