A Closer Listen
It’s probably a very selective memory at work, but I associate the first time I heard Nobukazu Takemura’s music with the first time I heard computers singing. Other musicians had used MacInTalk, as it was called then, to provide a voice in their otherwise instrumental compositions. But Takemura went one step beyond that – he created choirs from the default voice, charming melodies out of a utility that wasn’t designed to sing. It gave the machines a humanity which, up to that point (we’re talking late 1990s here), had only existed in the realm of sci-fi movies. At a time when it seemed that musicians were releasing albums chock full of tuneful promise every week, it helped Takemura stand out.
After a 10-year gap, Takemura releases knot of meanings into a musical environment much altered since 2014’s Zeitraum (and there was pretty much a 10-year gap before that appeared). Computers are not just contributing guest vocals but, thanks to AI, have formed ‘bands’, and are producing publicity material and videos for some of the biggest acts in the world. All while hoovering up more electricity than a small town to perform tasks that actual human beings could do. So, how to respond to this from a creative point of view?
We’re including the publicity shot of Takemura here because it’s quite telling. In the photo, he sits in front of two ancient Apple computers that he has probably been using for 30 years, as if to underline his shift away from modern technology. There’s also a xylophone – which looks more recent than the Macs – in the corner, that is utilised on knot of meanings, and there’s a circular stained glass window alluding to his direction as an artist, and his reconnection to Catholicism. All these elements – the acoustic instruments, basic technology and spirituality – feed into knot of meanings.
The result is an album that machines couldn’t recreate. It’s too free, ignoring the beats that Takemura utilised before Zeitraum – when drums appear (on the aptly titled “evade the swirling mimicry”), they are for illustrative purposes, not for rhythm. The piano is splashy rather than melodic. The vocals are sung for the most part by Doro, bringing an almost child-like wonder to the proceedings. The vinyl running order switches tracks around in comparison to the CD and digital versions, which suggests there is more than one path through the album. In short, knot of meanings is difficult to pin down. It’s a knotty problem.
The album finds focus midway through with the familiar Mac voice on “ladder of meaning” which leads into the tumbling bells and rippling percussion of “iron staircase” (although confusingly, this doesn’t happen on vinyl). It’s as if the disparate elements on knot of meanings sharpen into focus, and there’s a definite change in the arrangements as “luminous seeping through the crevices” is quite lovely and the marimba/vocal/surprise-guest-instrument fusion of “inscape” does provide enough hooks to engage the listener first time – the trick is to go back to the beginning and get a handle on the first half of the album.
Takemura leaves the best until last, with the gorgeous “In Bethulia” (with Doro in full choir mode) and the meditative suite “Deep Sea’s Rainbow” to see us on our way. Given that he’s not released a solo work for a decade, and worked on this album for 7 years, it’s perhaps not a surprise that knot of meanings feels somewhat over-stuffed. It is well worth revisiting though, as the gnarly and angular moments become familiar, and knot of meanings becomes easier to traverse. It’s at times a challenging album, but that’s because a human created it, not a machine. (Jeremy Bye)
Sun Oct 12 00:01:00 GMT 2025