Ryuichi Sakamoto was a Japanese composer, record producer, and actor who pursued a diverse range of styles as a solo artist and as a member of Yellow Magic Orchestra. With his bandmates Haruomi Hosono and Yukihiro Takahashi, Sakamoto influenced and pioneered a number of electronic music genres. - Wikipedia
The book "How Many More Times Can I See the Full Moon?" left a deep impression on me. I vividly remember receiving the news of Professor's passing while I was in Seoul, in my hotel room, just after taking a shower and before going to sleep. I was aimlessly browsing the internet when I came across the headline "Renowned Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto passes away." I was taken aback, and suddenly tears welled up. At that moment, my partner couldn't understand my grief.
I wasn't particularly fond of piano music, but my appreciation for the Professor stemmed from his spirit conveyed in various arts and interviews. In this book, you can sense his unique personality - someone who was determined and sometimes even rebellious. While he retained the elegance and subtlety of Japanese culture, he didn't quite fit into the rigid, conservative societal norms.
The book is a compilation of Ryuichi Sakamoto's reflections on his work and activities after his cancer diagnosis. It reflects his values and perfectionism. Reading his words, especially when he says, "So, my story ends here for now," leaves a feeling of abruptness. Throughout, you can see his depth and the wealth of knowledge he could have shared, but illness forced him to pause, which is truly lamentable.
Reading about his journey to the Arctic Circle, I listened to "out of noise." Exploring an artist's memoir is a fascinating experience. Even though he's no longer with us, you can still feel what he wanted to convey through his works, whether it's the melodious notes of "Hibari" or the recorded bell sounds in "Glacier." Each piece reflects his pursuit of change and innovation. Checking his Spotify playlist, you'll be amazed by Ryuichi Sakamoto's prolific creativity, as if he had an endless wellspring of inspiration, making you believe he could keep working tirelessly.
What truly touched me were Suzuki Masafumi's postscripts. In the main text, the Professor seldom showed sadness or bitterness; his words were calm and sincere. Reading about his final month through diaries, meetings, and messages, as well as his gratitude towards medical staff, evoked mixed emotions. Even someone as talented as Ryuichi Sakamoto, when faced with the end of life, could do nothing more than enjoy a meal and express gratitude.
The Professor mentioned that he didn't like it when people asked him to perform "Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence," finding it somewhat amusing. I understand the aversion to being typecast. However, for those who admire him, this piece is like a foundational milestone, more than just a creative constraint. If you ever witnessed him perform it live, hearing him play this classic would likely bring tears to your eyes.
He described cancer as more of a coexistence than a battle, requiring a strong mindset to face such a debilitating disease. When my own family member battled cancer, she hadn't even started chemotherapy, and the oral cancer drugs alone pushed her to the brink of despair. It's hard to imagine how Ryuichi Sakamoto felt when he heard he had only six months left, facing the gradual decline of health while still dedicating himself to work. Music wasn't just a job; it was a passion worth burning for. In a way, Ryuichi Sakamoto was fortunate, as not everyone finds a field they're willing to commit their entire lives to as if it were destiny.
His partner also possessed great resilience. When offered to compose music for "Demon Slayer," she jokingly said, "How many people in the world get this opportunity? It doesn't matter if I relapse and die." This optimistic attitude, often mentioned in the book, is heartwarming. Free-spirited, sometimes stubborn, yet always willing to give her all. This has been my impression of Ryuichi Sakamoto for a long time, and even when he finally said, "I apologize to my fans who have supported me for so long, but I no longer have the strength for full concerts," it's still a poignant moment.
The book ends by mentioning Ryuichi Sakamoto's last email to Suzuki, quoting Fukuzawa Akao's haiku: "A butterfly falls, its sound resonates, when it freezes." Twenty days later, it was the Professor himself who fell. He was that beautiful butterfly, seemingly as delicate as a feather, but his passing was profound, leaving a lasting impact on many. He may have rambled on about many things, but that's what brought tears to my eyes.
I didn’t know too much about Ryuichi before apart from his famous piece Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence
This year I’m particularly curious about him but not sure why, so I got this Chinese translation of the book which talks about the last few years of his life
I like the tone of the book, it felt like I was reading his diary. The stories he told about working with others are very interesting. How he gets inspirations about his music and how he fights against cancer.
Because of this book I listened to his two albums: async and 12.
This book is an autobiography since he knew he had a cancer and only 6 months left for living. When he passed away, my mind was busy with my own life. The moment I realized he had gone for real was when I watched a movie . Until he died, he thought, he traveled, he met, and he created. This book is also an artistic journey until he died. Every friend of his is spot all over the world, and the spots gathered around Sakamoto Ryuichi. It is an inspiring book to me.
电影《遮蔽的天空》里的男主独白 “Because we don’t know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that’s so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.