Mishima and Sakamoto: Echoes of Narcissism and Artistic Legacy

With the sudden plunge into winter weather, where yesterday's low temperature becomes today's high, it feels like more people in Japan, myself included, are experiencing seasonal affective disorder. Typically, I’m someone who keeps my body in good shape, but the disconnect between my physical and mental states feels particularly challenging. I've told those around me that I plan to take things slowly for a while—an unusual stance for me.

A few days ago, someone shared a beautifully written, essay-style article from 2001 in a fan group dedicated to Ryuichi Sakamoto. It skillfully elevated Ryuichi's unpretentious recounting of the concept and production process behind the album "CASA" into an elegant and refined piece, crafted by a talented writer. As part of my mental rehabilitation, I’m translating it into English bit by bit for his worldwide admirers. As a writer myself, I can keenly appreciate how the author captures and complements Ryuichi's somewhat understated manner of speaking, transforming it into a vivid and compelling narrative.

In an interview conducted during his illness—later included in his second autobiography—Ryuichi admitted to having only a small circle of truly close friends. He revealed that one of them was Alva Noto and shared that Alva was the first person he called to discuss his condition outside his immediate family. (I’m recalling this from memory, so the details may not be entirely accurate.) This stands in stark contrast to his other remarks about interacting with musicians around the globe, such as those he collaborated with for "CASA." The contrast struck me again as I reflected on his words.

At his core, Ryuichi was a studio musician. He mastered both the performance booth and the control room, using synthesizers and music computers to create the precise sounds he envisioned. (Consider how, during YMO’s sudden rise to fame in Tokyo, he rejected their breakthrough and immersed himself in dub music, as evidenced by his album "B-2 Unit" at the time.) While he performed live extensively throughout his career, what we ultimately receive as his legacy is a collection of meticulously polished products, where both sound and visuals are refined to perfection in the editing studio.

Even in the final chapter of his life, Ryuichi allowed his son to document his struggle with illness and the fading of his life, with the intention that the footage would be edited into a documentary. In fact, the documentary was later aired on Japanese television on the first anniversary of his passing. He was a narcissist to the end—like Yukio Mishima, with whom he shared a connection through his father.