Masayoshi Fujita - Migratory

A Closer Listen

The widely esteemed vibraphonist and marimba player Masayoshi Fujita has enlisted the aid of some astonishing collaborators on Migratory, but the greatest guest star may go unnoticed by those who only stream the recording.  Renowned travel writer Pico Iyer (A Beginnier’s Guide to Japan) contributes the sleeve notes, transcribing “the Japan that he hears as he sits down and listens to the music.”  The image of Iyer, one of our favorite authors, listening to Fujita while simultaneously discovering (if he had not already) Hatis Noit and Moor Mother, fills us with wonder.

The travel writer is perfectly matched to the theme.  On the surface, Migratory is about the journey made every spring and fall by our avian neighbors: the sounds they hear, the sights they see, the absence of national boundaries.  Below the surface, the album speaks to Fujita’s return to Japan after 13 years in Berlin, echoing his parents’ own sojourn in Thailand.  Deepening the association, his musical collaborators share similar stories.

The eyes and ears go first to those two big names, each of whom transcends genre.  Moor Mother last appeared on the confrontational remix of SUMAC’s “World of Light,” but “Our Mother’s Lights” is its antithesis, exuding percussive and vocal calm.  “What is I told you that everything, that all of us … that we are all traveling?”  This sentiment, fleshed out by expressive poetry, exemplifies the album’s theme.  Fujita’s playing here is bright and expressive, while his father Osamu adds colorful saxophone, connecting families as well as nations.  Hatis Noit appears on the gorgeous “Higurashi,” peppered with birdsong, her voice the sweetest cry amid the reeds.  The approach is extremely tender, the music tiptoeing in as the voice begins to echo and loop like overlapping generations.

Fujita’s father also plays on “Blue Rock Thrush” and “In a Sunny Meadow,” the duets instinctive and informed by love.  These magical moments are rimmed with an aura of sadness, as Fujita’s mother had passed away only months before.  The final guest is Mattias Hållsten on shō, another instrument never before heard on a Fujita record.  The two met at a music residency in Sweden, another sign of a shrinking world.  “Yodaka” is particularly poignant, as wind chimes serve as a reminder of the changing seasons and the ensuing migrations.

Through it all, sorrow and joy, parting and reuniting, traveling and returning home, Fujita plays with confidence and even playfulness, as exhibited on opener “Tower of Cloud,” which begins with synthesizer before showcasing the mallet instruments.  The swift sequences of the midsection are like tiny bursts of raindrops in a sun shower.  On “Distant Planet,” the artist’s love for nature is extended to the heavens.  To quote Pico Iyer, “To step away from the world isn’t to draw back; it’s actually a way to tune in” ~ exactly what Fujita and friends have done here.  (Richard Allen)