Berlin based Japanese vibraphonist and composer Masayoshi Fujita starts off playing the drums but somehow ends up reaching inside the receptacle of electronic music in search of little clouds of probability and possibility. With the help of some extensive vibraphone craft training, soon, his own compositions start taking shape.
Under his electronic alias, el fog, Masayoshi merged the vibraphone with the analogue / digital electronic sound and textured noises, using diverse experimental methods that quite simply boggle the mind, going so far as to let the silence and deepness of the fog and the mountains and the gravity within conjure up not only his most distinct and original style but also his very own personal signature sound.
There’s a fine line where the individual listening to Masayoshi Fujita‘s Apologues will draw up mental images and atmospheres, floating around in sceneries and stories that tap into the peaceful unexplored beauty of the human psyche. It comes off so naturally that we are inadvertently plunging ourselves into the gateway of our subconscious mind and conscious awareness. Knight of Spirit and Lake takes refuge in our Alpha brain wave state, becoming clearer and more profound as we near and drift off into the vivid visualizations, that pure creativity and inspiration of Requiem, where the building blocks of reality are laid down by our architect subconscious to begin his work anew.
His own theory on composition made Masayoshi Fujita push the envelope and seek out a new personal vibraphone sound making use of strings of bead, strips of foil and similar objects. Kind of like Hauschka and his impeccable use of every day ordinary things to make his piano strings flourish like a beautiful and splendid magnolia. Which begs the question: how come these two haven’t crossed paths to offer one of the most exhilarating performances maybe, dare i say, ever ?
Even the art for the album itself is a vibraphone mirror selfie reflection of the personal self through a series of forest like sounds that fade in and out like our favorite seasons but somehow keeping themselves joyfully everlasting in all their ephemeral and transient sorrowfulness. And that particular feeling is beautifully embroidered by Beautiful Shimmer, which tricks me into connecting some invisible dots that remind me of a sort of uncompleted instrumental version of M83’s I guess i’m floating song, adorned with visions of a past or blurry future that seems to have been squeezed out those brief yet warm kisses Bob gives Charlotte in Sofia Coppolla’s Lost in Translation.
Apologues has a special type of variable that can hold more than one particular type of sound at the same time. Yet its sole purpose is not to encourage the listener to try and identify those sounds and draw up a type of mathematical scheme of what is going on, but to offer a personal reflection on those fluent images and sensations from the mind, body and spirit that bounce back and forth into nature’s bountiful hiding spots, where a unicorn is dashing through the forest to dry off his tears of loneliness infused sadness.