Masakatsu Takagi - Kagayaki Review

PERSONIFYING LIFE'S BARE ESSENCE

Kagayaki lies resting in the beating heart of life, her unfurling serenity consuming all that dares not lavish in our eternal, treasured gift. Life-affirming is a phrase often overused, but here, on Masakatsu Takagi's masterpiece, it feels essential to appreciating all that surrounds and engulfs. Only someone with an exultant outlook on life could muster the passion, warmth, and tenderness that unspools across Kagayaki's hour and 15 minutes. Many have made comparisons - rightfully so, due to the abundance of samples both ethnological and natural - to slice of life films. Those that tug at heartstrings by merely exhibiting what it means to be human; the good and bad, excitement and worry, known and unknown. Those much like Studio Ghibli films, which Takagi takes clear inspiration from. Kiki's Delivery Service and, especially, Tale Of Princess Kaguya come to mind, the latter finding a clear connecting point, as Takagi produced the soundtrack of that film's accompanying documentary. Considering Kagayaki's 2014 release, it's fairly obvious the two have more than just stylistic similarities in common.

There's something magnetic about Kagayaki's trajectory, one only slightly soured by the language barrier. Here, you're not given the benefit of a Dub or subtitles. Interludes like 'Tani No Hamabe' or 'Yamafuro' are lost upon English-speaking listeners, though the swirling array of momentous production, childhood playtime chatter, and delicate environmental flourishes place Kagayaki in a clear-cut world to explore. It's Japanese folklore come to life, circumventing stereotypical aspects (which are present at times) with earnest partiality that truly evokes the calm, respectable majesty by which Japanese children base their moral compass on. Tracks like 'Ooharu,' 'Amamizu,' and 'Utagaki #2' elicit this congenial spirit the best, as Takagi's piano mastery bears resemblance to Nils Frahm's dynamic, multi-layered exorbitance. Couple this with woodwinds that glide like soft breezes, background vocals harmonizing one shared repartee, and an elegant essence that rids harm from ever crossing into this tranquil kingdom. These songs float, like lily pads against crystal-clear water, hampered only by the occasional frog or waterfowl.

Kagayaki is really second to none. Sure, Joe Hisaishi's unforgettable work with Ghibli works wonders when accompanied by striking visuals and transformative allegories, but here, Takagi does it all on his own. There's even an underlying plot, I'm sure, for the final few moments - after the metamorphosing, eleven-minute centerpiece 'Nurse Them Make A Fire Feed Yourself Express Your Mirth' - impart a more somber tone, as weeping vocals, reticent ambience, even a live, church-fairing Gospel ('Ageha'), note the passage of time and aging of one's being. Unlike earlier in the album, when children's wassail dominated otherwise placid gaps, these final few songs wither with reflective infirmity. Like an elder, heart filled reliving moments of the past, before transcending our mortal coil with regrets left behind. Though only an hour and change in length, Kagayaki captures a lifetime. Excited and melancholy, but passionate all the way through. This is an album that inspires.