I want to clear up a misconception / misuse of two words. Many people think (even some composers and those in the music business), that the musical styles “Ambient” and “New Age” are the same and these two expressions are interchangeable. Especially in the US, people tend to pigeonhole both into some simple, mellow, uninteresting, cheesy (yet not even existing) style of “mood music” or “elevator music”. And they could not be any more wrong. Although these days they can be partially right. More about this later. In Europe, as electronic and various contemporary instrumental musical styles are much more popular, the mix-up is less of an issue, however the differences are often just guessed and not clearly understood.
First let’s take a look at what these wonderful musical genres are not. Although the categories “elevator music” and “mood music” do exist, these phrases reference the use, rather than the genre of such music. Especially elevator music – which has become a somewhat cynical phrase in English to describe an uninteresting wall of background music – is not descriptive of a music genre; I have heard classical, contemporary orchestral, country, big band, electronic, new age, jazz, and even rock music in elevators. There are “mood music” or “atmospheric music” CDs available as well, some not even containing music but sound effects, some featuring classical music. Therefore, these aren’t musical styles, rather modern-day expressions describing the use, or (sometimes rightfully) suggesting the lack of diversity and musical depth of a track.
Let’s go back to the question of Ambient vs. New Age music. In their “lighter”, commercialized form, well known since the ’80s, these can be some gently flowing, predictable pieces of music, often using only a few basic chords, inspiring melodies and simple, most likely synth – based instrumentation, with frequent use of piano and strings (or string-like synth pads), maybe some arpeggiated synth parts. However, in the late ’60s, pioneers of electronic music were already working on a compositionally and aesthetically much deeper level to create Ambient pieces (and New Age music later in the ’70s).
While Ambient music in the ’60s and through the ’70s usually referred to new experimental music, noise- and sound-inspired music (such as music concrete) – contemporary electronic music with no- or very limited commercial intentions, – early New Age (and a handful of Ambient) compositions were popularized by the great modern composers of instrumental-electronic music, such as Vangelis, Eno (who first started using the phrase “ambient music”), Jarre, Oldfield, Schulze, Clarke, etc. Of course, I do not blame these wonderful creators for the commercialization of the style – that was the (unavoidable?) side effect of the popularization of their work itself! Also, thank to them, electronic music in general gained a much wider acceptance, and later appreciation… without which only a few of you would be reading my lines now, or, maybe electronic music would mean something entirely different today (an interesting topic for another time).
In the ’90s, the music industry was squeezing all it could out of New Age music, eventually making it into atmospheric relaxation cheese.
In a way, New Age helped to make electronic music accessible and enjoyable for the quality-demanding audiences, especially in Europe where electronic and rock instrumentations were kept more separate (outside of the Lucky Man type of approach) than in the U.S. However, the process in which New Age music got diluted into some atmospheric relaxation nonsense (and yes, typical elevator music), is another, rather unfortunate matter. I won’t mention the names of the performers with pretty smiles, long hair and white pianos here, as they were only messengers with a bad taste and too much hunger for fame. Not bringing up the listening standards of the masses to the already popularized electronic/new age music, but dumbing down a style to create assembly-line type of products that appealed mostly to an overly romantic segment of the audience was an unforgivable yet familiar deed of the music industry. It is their greed that has made New Age into what it is today.
While New Age often intended to express traditional (romantic, classical) ideas by replacing orchestral instruments with synthesized sounds, Ambient music has always contained a certain level of experimentation and sonic risk (from a popularity angle). Although the philosophy and driving force behind the evolution of the New Age and Ambient styles have been different from the beginning, there are countless examples for their marriage, often blurring the line between the two genres – especially in the early ’80s (think of Vangelis or Eno).
With the explosion of digital technologies and their application in music production, the two styles’ deviation accelerated in the early to mid-90s, thank to the better mass-appeal and marketability of New Age, and as a consequence of these new technologies’ effect on electronic music production, serving up the two genres’ differing fundamental ideology in different ways. While it became even easier and a fairly challenge-less task to produce New Age records, with every record farther diluting the already over-digested writing- production- and listening experience, Ambient music stayed true to its origin and took the harder road: the challenge of originality. Although not yet in a widely published way (not that it has ever been widely published), Ambient music started truly benefiting from the advances in digital audio- and music production, especially sample manipulation, new synthesis methods and new electronic instruments and controllers.
Digital technologies opened up new dimensions for Ambient music. From sample manipulation to new synthesis methods and processing techniques, ambient music has now unlimited territories to explore on all levels of sonics. At least, unlimited as long as the entertainment industry stays away.
By the end of the ’90s, the focus shifted from interesting chords and repurposed real-life sounds to produced-from-scratch soundscapes, and sounds constructed and modified in new and original ways. The decade-long influence of popular electronic music (mainly techno, then trance and drum&bass around the turn of the millennium) breathed new life into Ambient. The 2000s brought the rediscovery of integrating acoustic instruments and the benefits of using new performance techniques into electronic music, which further shaped Ambient music into what some refer to as “the classical music of the digital age”.
I feel that these days “New Age” has a less flattering connotation than ever before, while “Ambient” has expanded from the textural and very loosely structured compositions into various electronic and electroacoustic directions, which make it appealing for a wider audience than before, yet its philosophy and complexity keep it “niche enough” to prevent it from the dangerous commercialization New Age went through. In 1981, I would have gladly announced myself as someone working in either genres, however, today I rather introduce myself as a composer of ambient electronic music, to avoid any preconceived ideas.
Of course, all these expressions, sub-genres of electronic music, transformations and influences aside, what matters is the music itself, not what we call it.
These days, the first thing that comes into the mind of most of us when hearing the word “hero” is the main character of some unrealistic tv-series or movie, or the over-exaggerated way the word is used for youngsters who save the family cat from the neighbor’s dog. In our time, true heroes are very scarce – the feel that surrounds the word makes it easier to associate with a fairytale, than with someone in the reality of the weekdays. I’m not talking about the heroes that the media fabricates to make a nice story sound larger to boost their audience therefore advertising rates, either. What we have been witnessing since March the 11th, 2011, is an eye-opening experience of true, real-life heroism in the word’s meaning as classic and rightful as ever.
I don’t want to repeat the story of the extraordinarily selfless men and women, who decided to give their health, and risk their lives for those in the area of the Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear reactors, to protect the people of their country and beyond, working in randomly fluctuating levels of radiation, doing so voluntarily, knowing that the sacrifice might be the last one they make – although not their personal details, but their story has been well documented in the media and online.
But how do you document what it feels like to be fighting against a silent, invisible enemy? How do you document what it feels like having to focus on an extremely important job and put your thoughts about your family in danger aside? How do you document what it feels like to be a faceless, nameless hero, yet the hope of your country?
Music can express far more than words… which is why the idea of writing a hymn to the Fukushima 50 to show my respect and admiration didn’t take much thinking – in fact, I don’t even remember making the choice. My first recollection of the process is when I was getting ready in the morning, taking a shower and constantly thinking about the TEPCO employees who stayed at the reactors, and realizing how easily and quickly I could loose the luxury of such a seemingly simple thing as the hot shower, if I was one of them. I knew that I wanted to do something more than just sending some money – I wanted to praise the Fukushima workers for making the choice they made. I wanted everyone to pay attention to them and to ask the same question that I was asking myself: would I do it?
The various angles
Seeing the photos and news footage of the thousands of lives ruined by the tsunami made many of us feel helpless humans at the mercy of nature. We wish we could do something to help, but we can’t reverse time. What we can do, besides helping the relief efforts, is to offer support and inspiration. Inspiration via words, events, ideas, art… whatever form of communication we can reach the farthest with. Music being my life and profession, I naturally chose this most universal language to communicate my thoughts, and to support the efforts of those less fortunate to move on and rebuild.
Now three weeks into the crisis, it’s sad to think about that with all the technology we have, it’s still people who have to make huge sacrifices to turn things back to normal. People like you and me, with families; wives and husbands, sons and daughters, parents, jobs and houses, friends and future plans. Of course, it’s not the investors, owners and management who end up fixing things – it’s the employees. Things are so reversed.
It’s not a secret that my grandmother passed away shortly after Chernobyl – my family has seen the effects of radiation from way too close. She was the most loving, selfless and patient grandma you can imagine. She loved her family and her flowers and she had many plans. While writing the Fukushima 50 Hymn, my sadness was magnified by my memories of her.
In contrast with her tragedy, in a weird, almost shameless way, I have been always fascinated by nuclear reactors, particle accelerators and the like – most likely due to my curiosity about everything related to nature. While learning about the science and technology behind the machines and processes, and thinking about the mystery and danger of the yet undiscovered surprises, I often found myself in thoughts about the “big questions” [the why, when and where… the focus of my current musical direction and upcoming works]. I wanted to make radioactivity audible. Not with the sound of Geiger counters, but with musical sounds that express mystery, danger, and concentrated energy. As these elements are playing a major role in the events at the Fukushima reactors, I wanted to give a musical character to uranium, gamma radiation and the alpha particles.
The expression of sadness, the mystique & danger of nuclear energy, the recognition of heroism and the inspiration to fight and celebrate the brave – all these aspects are included in the Hymn, but I chose to focus primarily on the two most positive ones: recognition and inspiration.
Before anyone starts using the Fukushima crisis as a fuel for the nuclear energy debate worldwide, first the F50 has a battle to win. It isn’t a battle against nature; what the Fukushima 50 are cleaning up is the filth of greed and bi-product of science, the latter making the convenience of modern life, that we enjoy daily, possible for all of us. Therefore all of us should salute to those who are still fighting the battles as I’m writing this.
We should show them that we care, that we have the deepest respect and appreciation for their dedication, whatever the final outcome may be. And we must share our views with others around us, help them notice the heroes among us.
Our first steps
The Hym to the Fukushima 50 music and video has been doing quite well on YouTube. Besides receiving some media coverage, we received over 10,000 views in the first week, and now after two weeks we are getting close to 30,000. It being an original piece, as opposed to just shocking news footage or celebrity egocast, these are very respectable numbers. More importantly, we have been inspiring thoughts and donations: I’ve been getting requests after requests for the music (free with any donation to Japan through any charity organization – see the news item here). Many emails point out that it was the Hymn that inspired the viewer to donate. Based on the emails, our guesstimate puts the amount of “inspired donations” around $10,000 so far – put this in the perspective of the couple of hours it took me to compose and arrange the music, and one short night that it took us to research and produce the video. Obviously, it was more than worth it.
To those who asked why I don’t sell the music for income or donations, or direct viewers to the iTunes page of my latest album, Transitions (whose digital release date was coincidentally just a few days after I had written the F50 Hymn – I actually forgot about my album release:), I can answer simply: because you don’t sell bandages to the wounded. Besides, as a composer, I have already made popular success a memory of my past; I’m not here to sell; my mission is only to express feelings and share thoughts with original music that’s uninfluenced by trends, money or the industry.
I sincerely thank to everyone who has watched, and especially to those who spread the word about the video, commented, or donated and messaged me for the music. Let’s not stop here, let’s keep sharing the idea and keep making a difference, so that even after the media replaces the headlines with another attention-drawer, we’ll be witnessing the heroism and supporting the Fukushima 50.
I wish each and every one of them strength for now, happiness and health for the future.
What an unconventional week for an album release. Not the typical schedule, like in-store promotions or cd signing sessions, nor live interviews about the new release. Instead, an awful experience with Malev airlines, getting stuck at the Frankfurt airport, a horrible experience with the airport staff and their non-existing customer service, coming down with a cold during the long flight back to the US, followed by the last days of the year mostly spent with coughing and headache.
However, this makes sense for an album release with a non-typical agenda behind it. I’m not crazy for choosing a release date right after Christmas – I wanted to make a point. Transitions is not about selling platinum, nor about meeting the expectations of a director or producer. This one is about focusing on the most important part: original music with zero influence by anything and anyone.
This focus was often forced into the backseat in the past 8 years of my career (which is why there is the word “industry” in the phrases “film industry” and “music industry”). No, I’m not blaming anyone for creating music for order for the past decade, but I can’t express how good it feels to create music for pleasure (or in case of Transitions, compile music that was created for pleasure). I can honestly say, I don’t care if it sells or not – what I care about is being able to share it with you, the listener, for your enjoyment, the way I intended the tracks to be, without having to deal with revisions, changes and any influence by current trends and temp tracks. Like in the naively innocent days of Mountain Flying.
For long I’ve missed this freedom, and never really became a mercenary of the entertainment industry. Between two scores, I always found some time and personal focus to compose from the heart and not from the brain. Compiling these moments of musical escapes into an album before coming out with a new, completely original (and if that’s possible, an even more influence-free) concept work (maybe in 2011) made sense. Calling it Transitions also made perfect sense – it is a 19-track story of my own musical and personal transition, that bridges over a decade of composition, and shows the metamorphoses from Mountain Flying into my recent music and sounds (without giving away the stylistic direction of the next concept album, though!).
To get to this point, your emails from around the world asking for a new album greatly helped as well. I won’t disappoint. While I’m not turning my back to the industry, I will make sure that the priorities first work for you and me. I am thankful for the tremendous experience I gained from working on movies, tv shows and advertising, and now I will shamelessly utilize it for my own, selfish purposes. Don’t expect another Mountain Flying, but a different flight into the world of emotions and new sonics, an adventure you haven’t heard before.
But for now, here is Transitions. It might take a couple of listens to find the coherence between these widely diverse tracks (I will follow up with some “stories behind the tracks” on these pages to help). If you’re not familiar with Mountain Flying, it’ll be a new kind of adventure to my old and recent musical world. If you are, thank you for joining me in the journey again after 11 years.
