Ryuichi Sakamoto
St. John Church, Hackney | 20 February
It is a mixed crowd here in the spacious church: these are the fans of both Sakamoto and Duepree, rather than ‘Sakamoto and Duepree’, filling the vast, arching white space. On Sakamoto’s side, reminiscing followers of Yellow Magic Orchestra’s 70s arcade-pop, then those who have noted his influence through film scores, namely Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence- an emotional piano piece which would probably act as common ground among the audience if there is one. On Duepree’s, followers of his drum-less 12K label, which is often described as minimal. Fluttering electric candles skirt the balcony and appropriately set the scene for electronic classical landscapes.
Roly Porter precedes the main act and a middle-aged man in a pale blue suit holds his wife with one hand, wiping the sweat from his brow. Heavy bass envelops and symphonic zephyrs flood out any expectation of an orthodox classical piano piece to follow.
To quickly YouTube Rydeen, Pocketful of Rainbows, Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence and lastly Curl To Me (which is from the latest EP), you can follow the gradual steadying of Ryuichi Sakamoto. He is now the most peaceful man on earth. Sakamoto and Duepree’s Disappearance is a collection of sparse, isolated, intimate piano chords set in amongst a backdrop of subtle swoops and natural clicks. Admittedly, its subtlety can ask an effort of the listener when in a home environment but here the balconies and the seats all point toward two tables of knobs and a disembodied piano which has several mics aimed into its mechanics and attention is absolutely focussed. The two appear onstage and modestly acknowledge their audience, which is the manifestation of each of their fruitful careers. A low hum ensues and we, for the first time, see the back of the silver-haired Sakamoto who spends the most past of the show hunched over his piano, tinkering and fondling with the insides. The performance conjures a similar lonesome mood to the record while remaining predominantly improvisational and the keys prove to be almost purely ornamental. An incredibly gentle and seamless hour follows and eventually calls for rapturous standing ovation.
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Words and photo: Henry Johns
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