Either Sound or Silence

Thematic preoccupations in some percussion works of Tōru Takemitsu

In 1971, Tōru Takemitsu’s compositions had reached something of an avant-garde

zenith. The spatial realisations of pieces by himself and Iannis Xenakis in the ‘Space Theatre’ at
Expo Osaka ’70 had left a lasting impression on his musical senses (Burt, 2001, p. 132) and the
experience of rehearsing the commission November Steps in 1967 with the New York
Philharmonic, though initially fraught, had proved to him the feasibility of a synthesis of East
and West. He writes:

“Some performers openly demonstrated their antagonism as the opening of the

piece was rehearsed… After the opening section the biwa and shakuhachi entered.
The mood of the orchestra began changing, slowly, but nevertheless changing…
November Steps has a section near the end where only the Japanese instruments
play. During the eight or so minutes it lasted the orchestra listened intently… The
final orchestral coda was so alive it was hard to imagine that it was played by the
same orchestra that had begun the piece. After the designated final silence,
bravos and applause exploded from the orchestra.” (Takemitsu, 1995)

Earlier in his life Takemitsu had an intense dislike for all things Japanese and wished
only to become a “Western composer”, but later came to appreciate the value of his national
traditions (Duffie, 1990). He was able to achieve a unique fusion of these backgrounds over the
course of his career and his work exhibits numerous facets begat by this combination. The
percussion works Cassiopeia, Rain Tree and From me flows what you call Time have numerous
connecting threads in the aesthetic, artistic and philosophical realms; of note in particular
here are the threads of collaboration, water, theatre and the Japanese aesthetic concept of ma.

Ma is a Japanese word that means an interval between spatial or temporal events

(Pilgrim, 1986), or “an expressive force which fills the void between objects separated in time
or space” (Koozin, 1990). Takemitsu defines it as “the unsounded part” of a musical
experience, a “powerful silence” which “gives life to the sound” (Takemitsu, 1995). Ma also
implies “among” and read as part of the word ningen (here the character is read as gen) implies
that nin (from the character hito, a person) indicates the importance of society and
relationships in defining a person (Pilgrim, 1986). Takemitsu related these concepts not only
to his musical aesthetics but also to his stance on contemporary music as being something that
cannot function satisfactorily without the engagement of a community (Ohtake, 1993 p. 65-
72).

Ma is a cultural concept so ingrained that it is very difficult to define. It relates not

only to the direct meaning of the character but also to a cultural paradigm, a fundamental way
of understanding the world embedded in Japanese culture (Pilgrim, 1986). Takemitsu

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considers this the ‘Japanese-ness’ he brings to a Western musical idiom, rather than any
attempt to overlay the traditions, sounds or instruments directly (Takemitsu, 1995). This
juxtaposition is part of what makes his music so remarkable, particularly in its use of silences
and structure.

Cassiopeia (1971), Tōru Takemitsu (1930-1996), approx. 23m

Commissioned by Ravinia Festival
Premiered 8 June 1971 in Chicago by Tsutomu Yamashita (percussion) and the
Chicago Symphonic Orchestra, conducted by Seiji Ozawa

Takemitsu frequently cited collaboration with performing musicians (alongside

conductors and filmmakers) as crucial to his creative process, believing that “individually,
human presence is like a note in a scale; one does not constitute the whole” (Ohtake, 1993 p.
65). Cassiopeia, a large-scale work for percussion and orchestra, was completed in 1971 and
written for the 24-year-old soloist Tsutomu Yamashita (stage name Stomu Yamashta), and the
experience of working closely with a virtuoso performer was to prove a formative one for
Takemitsu (Burt, 2001 p. 132).

They had met in January 1969 at the world premiere of Takemitsu’s Asterism for Piano
and Orchestra in Toronto (Meyer, 2009). Takemitsu’s blend of Eastern and Western music had
made finding sensitive performers difficult (Duffie, 1990) and Stomu Yamashta had been
introducing Japanese sensibilities to Western audiences since arriving in the US from Kyoto at
the age of 17, already a prodigious talent, and held a deep love for the roles of percussion in his
native musical and spiritual traditions (Meyer, 2009). The fortuitous meeting engendered
several collaborative works, including Cassiopeia.

The concerto itself presents a complex and formidable challenge for a percussionist.
Their forty-four instruments are arrayed centrally, with further percussionists and some
orchestral soloists in groups to form the ‘W shape of the five-star constellation (Takemitsu,
1971). The piece includes many complex and extended techniques written with Yamashta in
mind, an impression fortified by a declaration by the Boston Symphony Orchestra that the
piece was unplayable by one performer (Oteri, 2008).

The piece is an intricate, spacious and virtuosic work of modernism. Takemitsu says of
his music: “[it] can be compared to walking through a garden and experiencing the changes in
light, pattern, and texture” (Breyer, 1996). These concerns are in full flow during Cassiopeia,
which uses the specific arrangement of the players and variety of timbral sounds to its fullest
extent. The sonorities drift in clusters, between and through the groups of players as if a
landscape were revealing itself through moving clouds. The huge registral spread and wide
soundscape are marshalled alternately to give a sense of vastness, then of intimacy. The atonal
harmonic language is laid underneath the percussion, much of which is of indeterminate

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pitch, to place emphasis on the instrumental colour and texture rather than goal-oriented
harmony such as that in the Western musical tradition.

Japanese traditional music also places equal emphasis on sounds themselves and how
sounds are produced by the performer (Hall, 1974). Cassiopeia includes physical instructions
for the percussionist, such as to ‘walk (or running) to the regular place yo [sic] perform and play
castanets intermittently as Spanish dancer (or Kabuki actor) while his [sic] walks’, a nod to both
the active and theatrical style of performance for which Yamashta was known (Meyer, 2009)
and Takemitsu as an appreciator of Noh and Kabuki theatre (Hall, 1974). Both are types of
classical dance-drama in which percussion features heavily; in Noh theatre (the more esoteric
of the forms) the instrumental ensemble consists of three drummers and a flutist (Komparu,
1983) and in Kabuki performances musicians play a variety of percussion both on and offstage
to create atmosphere in the staging of stories (Kabuki, 2022). These influences can be clearly
felt even in the section subtitles for Cassiopeia, which are Entrance – Scene – Solo – Scene
(Takemitsu, 1971).

Ame no ki - Rain Tree (1981), Tōru Takemitsu (1930-1996), approx. 13m

Premiered 31 May 1981 at the festival Music Today in Tokyo by Sumire Yoshihara,
Yasunori Yamaguchi and Atsushu Sugahara

Takemitsu’s theatrical appreciation can also be seen in Ame no ki, or Rain Tree.
Lighting instructions are given both in the front matter and as part of the score itself
(Takemitsu, 1981) to enhance the performance, relating to the phrasing of the motifs, and
instructions for performers to play in the dark. Bob Becker of the Nexus Ensemble recounts
working with Takemitsu in Japan; he states that Takemitsu initially considered the lighting
operator to be akin to a fourth performer of the work (Becker, 2009). Though the performance
to which Becker refers ended up not using the operator in such a way, the instructions remain
in the score (Takemitsu, 1981).

Though Rain Tree is placed by Takemitsu enthusiasts in his third period and has a very
different set of aesthetic values to his earlier works (Burt, 2001 p. 175), many of the discoveries
of his experimental period have their influences felt. Audible too is his interest in sounds that
emerge from and return to silence, the art of ma given form.

The piece is a member of a cycle called ‘Waterscape’ which develops themes of water
and rain and is the most extensive collection of themed works by Takemitsu (IRCAM, 2022).
Takemitsu tracks rain in a cyclical way, from the vertical falling of water all the way into a ‘sea
of tonality’ (Takemitsu, 1982). The pieces in ‘Waterscape’ are partly characterised by use of the
‘SEA motif’ Es-E-A (Eb-E-A in German nomenclature); intervals of a half-step and a perfect
fourth (Takemitsu, 1995). This motif appears in Rain Tree as part of the vibraphone part, an
ostinato that slips chromatically above marimba textures in the second section (Takemitsu,
1981).

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 The phrase ‘sea of tonality’ might mislead a Western listener. Though Rain Tree
finishes on a quiet Db major chord, it (like Cassiopeia) exhibits none of the goal-oriented
tonality the Western classical tradition prescribes. Central instead are extended textural
passages, progressively developing rhythms and repeated ostinatos with shifting accents that
give a rolling feel. Periods of improvisation guided by pitch classes and expressive instructions
are also featured, such as the directive to ‘improvise like scattered raindrops’ (Takemitsu,
1981). The more overt experimental tendencies of Cassiopeia are absent but the spatial passing
of motifs between the marimbas and the doubling of the instruments to create colour and
shading are beautifully developed. The edifications of working with virtuosic percussionists
such as Yamashta and Nexus ensemble (including Robin Engelman, after whose son
Takemitsu titled and dedicated Bryce, a work for two harps, flute, marimba and percussion) are
clearly felt.

From me flows what you call Time (1990), Tōru Takemitsu (1930-1996), approx.
30m
Commissioned by Carnegie Hall Corporation
Premiered 8 June 1971 in New York by Nexus Ensemble and the Boston Symphony
Orchestra conducted by Seiji Ozawa

From me flows what you call Time could be considered a culmination of Takemitsu’s
percussion writing. Composed for Nexus Ensemble and the Boston Symphony Orchestra
under the direction of Seiji Ozawa in 1990, it brings together Takemitsu’s theatrical and
spatial interests, his command of orchestral colour and the philosophical principles developed
over the course of his career. The title comes from a poem by Matoko Ooka entitled Clear Blue
Water, though the piece itself is not ostensibly part of the ‘Waterscape’ collection. It is also
influenced by the Tibetan Buddhist concept of the Windhorse, “the energy of basic goodness”
according to Vidyahara (Warren, 2014). The piece was written to commemorate 100 years of
Carnegie Hall and the music that has ‘flowed’ from within, the ‘me’ in the title being the Hall
itself (Feltmate, 2010).

The orchestra is again specifically, spatially arranged in unusual ways that create a
feeling of limitlessness. The five soloists are arrayed throughout the ensemble separately.
The number five is strongly represented here - five percussionists each wear a colour of the
five elements of the Tibetan universe (the five colours of the Windhorse flags), the five-note
idée fixe that appears throughout and spans a perfect fifth (Takemitsu, 1990).

In true Takemitsu fashion, the work is non-teleological – though subtitles for sections
are given in the score (Takemitsu, 1990), Takemitsu himself did not view his music as
programmatic but rather as exiting outside of time (Takemitsu, 1995). The percussionists are
summoned by the opening solo flute phrase and are subsequently joined by other members of
the orchestra, gradually intensifying the sound world with until the arrival of the first

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‘Premonition’ part with a new extension of the idée fixe. These developments see us through
several sections to the second ‘Premonition’ which is heralded by an oboe d’amore solo and
opens with a lush string and brass chorale. The piece uses a large array of world percussion,
including instruments such as the Egyptian darabukka drum, the Sudanese anklung (a set of
bamboo idiophones), Japanese temple bowls and Thai gongs (Takemitsu, 1990).

Once again there are many occasions for improvisation among the soloists, such as the
galloping log-drums leading into ‘the Promised Land’, evocative of the progression of the
Windhorse. There are also passages of senza tempo and cadenza-like sections, requiring both
superlative technical skill and comprehensive sensitivity to the spiritual themes of the work.
The final few moments of the piece are a rolling off to silence, a quiet contemplation of distant
bells as the chimes decay to nothing. One is left with the impression of movement and flow
without determinate beginning or ending, invoking the timelessness of ma.

(2024 words)

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References

Burt, P. (2001). The Music of Tōru Takemitsu. Cambridge University Press.

Takemitsu, T. (1995). Confronting Silence: Selected Writings. (Y. Kakudo, G. Glasow Trans.)
Scarecrow Press (eBook edition).
Komparu, K. (1983). The Noh Theater: Principles and Perspectives. Floating World Editions.
Ohtake, N. (1993). Creative Sources for the Music of Tōru Takemitsu. Ashgate.

Koozin, T. (1990). Tōru Takemitsu and the Unity of Opposites. College Music Symposium, Vol.
30 (No. 1) p. 34-44.
Pilgrim, R. B. (1986). Intervals (“Ma”) in Space and Time: Foundations for a Religio-Aesthetic
Paradigm in Japan. History of Religions, Vol. 25 (No. 3, Feb 1986) p. 255-277
Hall, R. (1974). Contemporary Japanese Music and Interview with Toru Takemitsu. Contact, 7
p. 8-26

Duffie, B. (1990, March 6). Tōru Takemitsu interview with Bruce Duffie. Bruce Duffie.
http://www.bruceduffie.com/takemitsu.html
Meyer, G. (2009) Infinite Horizons of Stomu Yamash’ta. Perfect Sound Forever.
http://www.furious.com/perfect/stomuyamashta.html
Oteri, F. J. (2008). Tōru Takemitsu, Cassiopeia. American Symphony.
https://americansymphony.org/concert-notes/cassiopeia-1971/
Breyer, W. (1996). Toru Takemitsu. Artist Interviews.
http://www.artistinterviews.eu/home/toru-takemitsu/?parent_id=22%2F
Kabuki (Accessed 2022, December 1). Live Music and Sound Effects. Kabuki.
https://www.kabukiweb.net/about/kabuki/live_music_and_sound_effects/
Becker, B. (2009, February 12). Answers to questions about Rain Tree, by Toru Takemitsu. Nexus
Percussion. https://www.nexuspercussion.com/2009/02/answers-to-questions-about-rain-
tree-by-toru-takemitsu/
IRCAM (Accessed 2022, November 17). Tōru Takemitsu – OEvres/effectif. IRCAM B.R.A.H.M.S.
https://brahms.ircam.fr/fr/toru-takemitsu
Warren, C. (2014, March 27). Riding on the Wind: The Culture of Windhorse. The Chronicles of
Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche. https://www.chronicleproject.com/riding-on-the-wind-the-
culture-of-windhorse/
Feltmate, P. (2010, October 19). Review of From me flows what you call Time…. Nexus
Percussion. https://www.nexuspercussion.com/2010/10/review-of-from-me-flows-what-you-
call-time/

Takemitsu, T. (1971). Cassiopeia [full score, nkoda]. Éditions Salabert.

Takemitsu, T. (1981). Rain Tree [full score]. Schott Japan.
Takemitsu, T. (1982). Rain Coming [full score]. Schott Music.
Takemitsu, T. (1990). From me flows what you call Time [full score]. Schott Japan.