Morgan Fisher

Morgan Fisher plays keyboards. Other than that, it’s hard to pigeonhole him. Coming of musical age in Britain in the late 60s, the only generalization about him is a love of experimentation. As keyboardist with Mott the Hoople, he found himself smack in the middle of the progressive glam-rock scene. Not content with that, he moved on to the  keyboard slot with Queen and later produced seminal punk band The Dead Kennedys. A collaboration with Yoko Ono produced “Echoes of Lennon” in 1990.

Recently, though, he’s focused on his own diverse projects from ambient music to minimalist compilations, such as the excellent “Miniatures.” He calls Tokyo home these days, and has his own production company here. Next week, he takes the stage at Yokohama’s Motion Blue with the OK String Quartet and special guest Canadian singer Jane Siberry. The shows will feature Fisher’s compositions woven together with his lush, delicate keyboard work, the string quartet’s harmonic textures and Siberry’s lovely vocals. He took time to answer a few questions about his amazing musical trajectory over the years that’s led him to his particular fascinating blend of computer-driven ambient and minimalist musical textures.

Can you tell me more about what you describe as a contradictory mix of spirituality and humorous punk sensibility?

Well, spirituality is often considered dull, precious or boring. Humour and punk is often considered fun but not very deep. People are so afraid to accept that we naturally have these and many other qualities inside us, and love to divide and categorize.

Your influences have "electronics"--synthesizers, samples, ambient sounds--as a  consistent thread. What about the electronics appeals to you?

My experience of electronic music began when as a teenager in the late 60's I discovered pioneers like Karlheinz Stockhausen and Edgard Varese (a hero of Frank Zappa). These forward-thinking composers wrestled with the early technology and produced astounding music. Later, with the rapid rise of cheap, easily available technology, and the simultaneous rise of disco music, electronic music became monotonously rhythmic. I am happy to see that in recent years many artists such as Portishead have taken it to a much more intimate level, and indeed some of the textures they create hark back to the early years of electronic music. Computers and samplers which have, like a paint brush, no personality of their own, transform and transmogrify sounds and voices to take us into more complex realms. I always bow to the power of technology for allowing us to express wider, spiritual feelings, dreamlike images, and inner emotions.

You've worked with a large number of very hip people. Were any of them particularly influential? Who left a lasting impression with you?

On my two "Miniatures" albums, I invited artists from numerous genres and cultures to contribute a one-minute piece of music. I was "sympatico" with most of them at some level, which is why I invited them--and learned something from all of them. Those that especially come to mind, include Terry Riley, Phillip Kent Bimstein, Peadar O'Riada, The Penguin Café Orchestra, Hermeto Pascoal, Gavin Bryars, Chris Hughes, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Piero Milesi, Moondog, Robert Wyatt, Quentin Crisp, Ivor Cutler and - of course - Jane Siberry.

How did they all come together?

Initially I agonised for weeks over some kind of concept for the album. I even considered asking all the artists to record their own version of Chopin's "Minute Waltz." Thank god I rejected that idea! In the end, a minute of carte-blanche seemed the best solution. Most of the artists enjoyed the discipline of haiku-like conciseness: say what you have to say and kindly leave the record and make way for the next artist. No development, jams or variations allowed - one theme, expressed clearly with as much depth and feeling as you can. It's surprising how much longer than 60 seconds many of the tracks seem.

You draw your own bits and pieces from all over the map, with genres, styles, and rhythms. How do you pull all those together?

I think a large part of it was having my brain cells permanently modified by exposure at the tender age of sixteen or so to The Beatles later music. Strawberry Fields Forever was the ultimate rock collage, and I was gobsmacked by several Jimi Hendrix Experience concerts in small pubs in London. Rock suddenly became symphonic, oceanic, and all-encompassing. There seems to be something in British rock that allows it to absorb virtually anything. George Martin has much to be thanked for in this regard, for opening the Beatles’--and our--ears to numerous musics and technologies.

Why Japan?

I came here on a whim and on a vacation in 1985 and never left. I also love the traditional Japanese culture, which was avant-garde long, long before the term was conceived .The way Japan, like a sponge, soaks up influences from here, there and everywhere, mirrors precisely the way I have absorbed influences of all kinds since I was a child.

(Originally published in The Japan Times March 2003)