The Living Music List #36: On Realizing the Raw and the Real (Part II)
If art is the question, what is the answer?
Currently listening to: 20220123 by Ryuichi Sakamoto
RIP Ryuichi Sakamoto. In 2023, the legendary Japanese composer released his final album, 12, just 2 months before he passed away from cancer. It is a solemnly beautiful album, understated in its earnestness to represent the contrast between Sakamoto’s failing health and unfaltering spirit. On 12, Sakamoto presents himself plainly—through these recordings, titled only for when they were recorded, we can hear and see him in his final months exactly as he was. His fingers wander slowly, gently across the piano’s keys, but the reverberating notes are accompanied by something unexpected—the presence of his labored breathing hovering behind the music like a ghost, as if a piece of him had already departed from his body. 12 is one of the most gorgeous and haunting records I’ve listened to, and it was a fitting final release from Sakamoto who, at the penultimate period of his life, hid nothing and revealed everything—his dying breath, his musical surrender, and his peace made willingly with it all.
Reflection
Hello, friend.
If I asked you about yourself, how much would you be willing to reveal?
Would you tell me about your job, or the music you like to listen to? Or would you feel comfortable going deeper to tell me about your fears, your vulnerabilities, and your moments of weakness? Why do you get up in the morning? What do you most desire? Who is capable of lowering all your defenses and how?
Are your answers to all of these questions the same as they would have been five or ten or twenty years ago?
In last week’s letter, you’ll remember that I discussed the idea of socially constructed realities—the theory that our communication, the way we present ourselves to others, and the way we perceive our conscious reality, might all be inherently affected by our existence within a society of other people. We wear different faces, and we cater our image with and without intention.
Yet we also crave sincerity and authenticity. We crave connection, and deep down, we want it to be as genuine as possible. How can we achieve genuine connection when we are all struggling to convey ourselves without catering, without censoring, without upscaling our lives, as products (or perhaps prisoners) of a venn diagram of societies and symbolic universes?
Sincerity is Scary, a track by British alt pop band The 1975, has two lines that have stuck with me since it released:
And why would you believe you could control how you're perceived
When at your best, you're intermediately versed in your own feelings?
This question illustrates the issue we find when seeking realness and genuine connection. As humans, we tend to develop a false sense of control over our identity. We can obsess over how we present ourselves to others, especially online. In truth, other people will perceive us how they will, from their own biased points of view. And we ourselves are always developing our own understanding of who we are and how we feel.
I believe that this incomplete relationship with our own identity, this incomplete self-awareness, is at the core of why we make art. From last week’s letter:
…so often, we make [art] because we are trying to express ourselves privately in the pursuit of understanding ourselves more deeply—in the pursuit of realization. Through the act of creating, we may realize thoughts and feelings we had not fully understood prior to taking part in the creative process.
We all have an innate ability to both create personas and recognize them in others—we all sort of understand that there’s more to a person than we can ever truly see. But we often seem to forget or ignore the fact that we don’t even ever necessarily see the full picture of ourselves.
That’s why I’m listening to a song today like Ryuichi Sakamoto’s 20220123. Without words, he was able to convey something real, something raw and vulnerable. Through the music, he gave us an unedited glimpse into his emotional and physical state at the end of his life.
Sakamoto spent decades creating instrumental music that elicited raw emotion and diverse messages without ever actually using language beyond maybe the track or album titles. Even here, the track has no specific title except a date, though maybe that says a lot on its own. One could interpret the title pointing to his days feeling numbered in the end phase of his life, for example—this is the beauty in art that leaves room for interpretation, which is one of my favorite aspects of instrumental and ambient music.
One reason I think Sakamoto’s 12 album resonated with me so deeply is the idea that he showed he had nothing left to hide from us or himself. When he recorded his piano playing, he was also aware of his own breathing, which became an instrument in its own right, representing an ever-present reminder of his own mortality, his vulnerability, and his imperfection.
When we present ourselves to others, we so often edit our lives and our personas to strive for perfection. If not perfection, then we feign full awareness of our flaws, which makes us seem even more elevated. But without taking the time to sit and study ourselves, to feel our feelings and just play, inviting inspiration from who-knows-where, we cannot ever realize the true perfection of our imperfection—that other innate ability we possess. The ability to change.
Throughout our lives, we grow. In size, age, wisdom—and we never stop growing. One’s true identity is always the culmination of one’s experiences up to the present moment. Yes, our real identity may be affected by everyone else we have encountered. It may change in subtle, often incontrollable ways when we interact with different people in different places. But at the end of the day, we have a real identity that is ours, and its evolving nature does not mean it is any less real.
It means that we will always have something new to learn about ourselves. We will always have a reason to evaluate where we stand, how we act, and with whom we choose to spend our limited time. Our answer may be one thing one day, and another the next. But there is an answer. And we can find it if we are willing to ask ourselves questions. Today, and tomorrow, and every day for the rest of our lives.
Art is the question. You are the answer.
Music Recommendations
Hello again, friend.
Thank you for reading today’s post. I hope you enjoyed the reflection—and I hope you have some time to ask yourself a few questions today. I also hope that the music I’m sharing with you today will help you see other people who have questioned themselves and realized something and decided to express and share that realization with you. That is a powerful motivator, is it not?
Okay, on to the music. Happy listening.
The Living Music List—Ambient
Note: All of the below ambient projects are available on Bandcamp. Bold and ^ denote reader-submitted work.
Θ Ω . I by Thet Liturgiske Owäsendet (album / experimental, field recordings) [Independent / Bandcamp]^
painting the sky by ellipses (album / drone, field recordings) [Independent / Bandcamp]^
Drums and Drones: Live at Trinity Community Commons by Infinite Limb (album / experimental, percussive) [Independent / Bandcamp]^
Where Birds Fly by HERE (single / drone, electronica) [Slowcraft Records / Bandcamp]^
{Note: Also contains an electronica remix of the single by Beyond Clouds.}
The Great Lillian Hall (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) by Mac Quayle (album / film score, classical) [Lakeshore Records / YouTube]
The Pool by Apta (album / post-rock, electronica) [Castles in Space / Bandcamp]
{Note: One of those records that sits on the edge of ambient and more melodic, upbeat genres, but definitely still felt worth including in this list.}
Water Side Reverie [W I,II] by psychedelic source records (album / post-rock, drone, experimental) [Independent / Bandcamp]
Interim Report, March 1979 by Warrington-Runcorn New Town Development Plan (album / electronic, experimental) [Independent / Bandcamp]
Northern Michigan Snowstorms by Rod Modell (album / drone, field recordings) [Independent / Bandcamp]
Hope’s Canvas (Alternative Mixes) by rhubiqs (single / drone, electronic) [Affin / Bandcamp]
{Note: Includes a remix that is more upbeat electronic.}
Glacial Dissociation by Cementation Anxiety (album / drone, noise) [Language Instinct / Bandcamp]
Moving Through Light by Daniel Bachman (album / experimental, sound collage) [Independent / Bandcamp]
The Living Music List—All Genres
Note: All of the below projects are available on major streaming services. Reminder: Bandcamp links only provided for reader-submitted work in the all genres list.
Sylvan Library 2 by Johan Fotmeijer (album / electronic, dub) [Narouua / Bandcamp]^
Photo Booth by Avery Friedman (single / indie shoegaze) [Audio Antihero / Bandcamp]^
On Being by Max Cooper (album / electronic)
{Note: I thought it was interesting and timely that Max Cooper’s explanation behind this album included this central idea: “It began when I started reading the database of thoughts I had been collecting over the past few years from the question ‘what do you want to express which you feel you can't in everyday life?’"}
Delete Ya by Djo (single / indie pop)
Old Joy by Yo La Tengo (EP / instrumental, soundtrack)
{Note: Originally the score for a 2006 indie film and only previously released as part of a compilation, this EP has now released for the first time as a cohesive whole on vinyl.}
Sinister Grift by Panda Bear (album / alternative)
Boys Noize presentes ONES and ZEROS by Boys Noize (album / techno)
When Shadows Dance (feat. Audun Kleive & Per Zanussi) by Eyolf Dale (album / contemporary jazz)
Erotica Veronica by Miya Folick (album / indie pop)
tryin to be born by Emile Mosseri (album / alt folk)
The Press Box
No feature this week, but a reminder about a few upcoming albums:
Tuning the Wind by Grand River [Umor Rex / Bandcamp] - Out March 7 (Bandcamp Listening Party on March 4 at 4:00 PM EST)
A Quiet Unease by HERE [Slowcraft Records / Bandcamp link to the advance single, no public album page yet] - Out March 14
New Thing by Avery Friedman [Audio Antihero / Bandcamp] - Out April 18
Join the Hum, Buzz, & Hiss Community
Music is best when we listen together. That’s why I’ve created the Hum, Buzz, & Hiss Discord Community, where music lovers, indepedent artists, and small label owners converge to hang out, share great music, and inspire each other.
If you enjoy my letters and want to connect directly with others in the ambient/DIY music space, then come join us on Discord. There, you’ll also find more music recommendations from me, custom playlists, giveaways, and more.
Support the newsletter with a monthly or yearly subscription to get access. I hope to see you there!
Subscribing will not only make you part of our growing community, but you’ll also get a free e-book of my poetry and some occasional paid sub-only posts. Your support would also be absolutely massive in helping me focus more time on creating new, fun stuff for you.
From now through May 31, 2025, you can get 20% off the yearly subscription forever (pay $40/year instead of $50). Click the button below to claim this offer or subscribe for free just to see if you feel like sticking around. I appreciate you reading no matter what!
You can also buy me a coffee (or a tea, rather, since I hate coffee—hopefully that’s not a dealbreaker for you).
That’s all for this week’s issue. Thank you for reading. Until next time.
Your friend,
Melted Form
Remember to listen to the hum, buzz, & hiss of the world around you—there is music to be heard there.
Read the previous issue of The Living Music List:
Afterword—Let’s Get In Touch
Are you an artist, a label owner, or a member of the press? Want to share an in-depth feature of your upcoming release, an advertisement, or a guest post for a future Hum, Buzz, & Hiss issue? Get in touch with me at meltedform@gmail.com. As always, I would love to hear and recommend your music, especially if it’s new and ambient/electronic/experimental.
