In aging, often the greatest comfort is the stability of things around you. Having friends, partners, and hobbies that follow you into old age serves as a point of reminiscing for long past days, and music is no exception. In particular, the music of Ryuichi Sakamoto provides us with a point of analysis for how one's music evolves throughout their life. With a career spanning 50 years of creation, there are endless droves of songs I could talk about from his discography, but for a look at what truly encompasses the man I would like to look at a song that was present in both the very beginning and the last moments of his career: “Tong Poo”. 

Tokyo, 1978. Ryuichi Sakamoto, along with Haruomi Hosono and Yukihiro Takahashi, form the electronic music group Yellow Magic Orchestra. With the release of their self-titled album, they became a massive hit throughout Japan and the world. Seen as an evolution of bands such as Kraftwerk, often regarded as the founders of the electronic genre, the entire album is filled with what Sakamoto described as Japanese Animisticism; a view of the evolution of synthesizers and other electronic music equipment as cuddly and fun in contrast to the prevailing outlook at the time. The rise of electronic production at the time was often characterized as a cold and unfeeling form of music, an opinion that Sakamoto refutes. “For us, those tools are not just objects. Japanese people can feel some attachment in what they are making, whether it is a car or a TV or a computer.” This sentiment on production is found throughout the album, notably in the sixth song on the album, “Tong Poo” (東風). Translating to east wind, the vibe of the song can be described as a funky ride through space.

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Of course the synthesizers provide whimsy to the track, but the deep bass throughout gives the song a groove that leaves you feeling giddy listen after listen. Often it is easy for a track near the 6 minute mark to lose the listener, but the song keeps you hooked with engrossing solo performances from each of the members. This era of music is so interesting to me because it is like an infant experiencing walking for the first time, there is this feeling of limitless growth that makes every next song so engrossing. Sakamoto, 26 at the time, had finally exploded into popularity through this project, leading to multiple world tours and millions in record sales. His work on the album garnered him the nickname ‘Professor,’ a nod to his methodic production style. This immediate success would kickstart the evolution of his career and begin the growth of who he was as an artist. There was no knowing where Sakamoto would go from there.

Jump forward to the year 2022. Sakamoto, now 70, sat down to record one last performance, a film containing a compilation of music throughout his career before he died. Diagnosed with cancer and with the end of his life approaching, this was his moment to present his art for the last time. The eleventh track on Opus is, once again, “Tong Poo,” now changed. The once joyous notes are replaced with something of a nostalgic glimmer from 50 years of being performed. In the time since the first YMO album, Sakamoto had become renowned as a composer of exceptional merit, winning both a Grammy and an Oscar for his work. His scores for movies such as Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, and The Last Emperor had put him on the map musically, and he continued to push his personal work farther on albums such as 1996 and, my personal favorite, Smoochy. In the years following his departure from YMO, we were able to observe the evolution from a new musician reveling in the fame of a breakthrough in music into the maturing of a man whose talents were used to paint masterpieces of music onto the screen.

 During the performance of “Tong Poo” in the film, we see Sakamoto crack a slight smile, the only time he does so. In it we see almost a flashback to the time of his youth, when he possessed limitless potential and a mind capable of harnessing it as such. As the film came to a close, I couldn't help but be moved to tears as I witnessed the last contribution of a great man to history.

Ryuichi Sakamoto would die early the following year, finally succumbing to his cancer. I remember being at the gym and checking my phone the day he died, unable to cope with the facts being presented to me. I had, perhaps naively, hoped that I could have seen him perform one day, but now that opportunity would never come. As I look back on the legacy he has left I think that understanding the “Tong Poo" of now and the “Tong Poo" of old is critical to see how the content of a man changes over time. On one hand we have the unbridled euphoria of youth, and on the other we have the stark reminder of our mortality. Perhaps optimistically, I don’t see the modern “Tong Poo" as a sad ending to Sakamoto’s career. The fact that 50 years after its inception it was able to find a way to express itself again is truly beautiful, and I hope that Sakamoto thought the same when he cracked that smile while recording. In writing I don’t know what I hoped to express about this genius of a man more than the fact that his constant dedication to music has proven so much about the power of the mind; that even in the final moments we look forward with all the power of our past at our side. In the end, it is the moments we bring with us to death's door that matter the most, and this legacy of music shows nothing less. Rest easy, Professor.