In September 2006, I attended an informal talk held by the Denmark-Japan Society on the subject of translating Haruki Murakami, by the English translator and professor at Harvard University, Jay Rubin. Of course this because I had been an avid fan of Murakami for years, but also because most of the books are translated by mister Rubin, which makes him almost half the author of the books - his words creates the special magic of the translation. Actually, I wouldn’t know if I’d have the same feeling, reading the original Japanese versions (if I could).
Anyway, having created the CD around one of the books by Murakami, called The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (see below), I naturally gave mister Rubin a copy as a humble token of my appreciation. He thanked me and signed my copy of the book, we talked a bit and sent each other an e-mail and that was it. A very pleasurable encounter and a moment I won’t forget but you know, years pass and some things aren’t present in your consciousness as often as before.
Then in 2009, I was contacted through Plaxo by a man from Australia who had read about my CD in a book called A Wild Haruki Chase. Having not heard about this book before, I ordered a copy, curious to see what had been written about my project.Merely expecting a mentioning in aside note, I found to my greatheart-warmingpleasure mister Rubin having dedicated quite a bit of his introduction to my musical endeavours. He even used my project’s name in the title of his essay, called "The Murakami Aeroplain" (see image above).
Words can not describe how honoured I am to have become a part of “The Wild Haruki Chase” and for this generous appreciation of my music.The meaning of “good karma” sifts through the lines of the introduction and this brings me much joy. Thank you mister Rubin, for letting our paths cross again.
»» The wind-up Bird Chronicles The album based on the best-selling book, "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle" by Haruki Murakami
This album has been written for and inspired by the English version of the book by the Japanese author Haruki Murakami (村上春樹) called 'The Wind-up Bird Chronicle' (ねじまき鳥クロニクル) - wonderfully translated by Jay Rubin.
Each tune corresponds to a different section of this book, but of course, you don’t have to have read the book in order to enjoy the music.
By clicking on each tune you will find the excerpts from the book, corresponding to each of the different tunes (except for the first melody, which is the overall theme). You will also be able to hear a approx. 1min. mp3 sample (96kbit - approx. 700kb) from the chosen melody.
You can also hear full-length previews from the album on Last.fm.
Download the full album here
The album has not yet been mastered, but you can get the full album absolutely free of charge here. Enjoy!
The songs can also be downloaded individually below (still M4A / MPEG-4, AAC)...
And if you really like the album and you suddenly feel an urge of extreme generosity, you may show your love and appreciation by donating any amount you like - anything goes - and it will be received with much thanks and gratitude (you may alternatively also send a virtual postcard or a 'hello' to ):
»The sharp sunshine of early summer dappled the surface of the alley with the hard shadows of the branches that stretched overhead. Without wind to move the branches, the shadows looked like permanent stains, destined to remain imprinted on the pavement forever. No sounds of any kind seemed to penetrate this place. I could almost hear the blades of grass breathing in the sunlight. A few small clouds floated in the sky, their shapes clear and precise, like the clouds in medieval engravings. I saw everything with such terrific clarity that my own body felt vague and boundless and flowing... and hot!«
”Wind-up bird?” she asked, looking at me with her mouth open.
“What is that?”
“The bird that winds the spring,” I said. “Every morning. In the treetops. It winds the world’s spring. Creeeak.”
She went on staring at me.
I sighed. “It just popped into my head,” I said. “And there’s more. The bird comes over to my place every day and goes Creeeak in the neighbour’s tree. But nobody’s ever seen it.”
“That’s neat, I guess. So anyhow, you’ll be Mr Wind-up Bird. It’s not very easy to say, but it’s way better than Toru Okada.”
»But that morning Kumiko was gone. I drank my coffee and ate my toast alone, in silence. An empty chair was all I had to look at. I looked and ate and thought about the cologne that she had been wearing the morning before. I thought about the man who might have given it to her. I thought about her lying in a bed somewhere with him, their arms wrapped around each other. I saw his hands caressing her naked body. I saw the porcelain of her back as I had seen itin the morning, the smooth skin beneath the rising zip.«
»I rested my elbows on the table and, without really intending to, found myself thinking in vivid detail about Creta Kano’s naked body. She was sound asleep in my bed. I thought about the time in my dream when I joined my body with hers as she wore Kumiko’s dress. I still had a clear impression of the touch of her skin, the weight of her flesh. Without a step-by-step investigation of that event, I would not be able to distinguish the point at which the real ended and the unreal took over.«
(“Music of Words” is also the title of a biography of Murakami written by Jay Rubin)
» When I got home, the cat came out to greet me. Just as I opened the front door, he let out a loud meow as if he had been waiting all day and came up to me, his tail with the bent tip held high. It was Noboru Wataya, missing now for almost a year. I put the bag of groceries down and scooped him up in my arms.«
»I lower my bottom to the earth, lean my back against the concrete wall, grip the bat between my knees, and close my eyes, listening to the sound of my heart. There is no need for me to close my eyes, but I do it anyway. Closing the eyes has its own significance, in darkness or otherwise. I take several deep breaths, letting my body grow accustomed to this deep, dark, cylindrical space. The smell here is the same as always, the feel of the air against my skin is the same. The well was completely filled in for a time, but the air here is the same as before. With its mouldy smell and its trace of dampness, the air smells exactly as it did when I first climbed inside. Down here there are no seasons. Not even time exists.«
»I click on the symbol for sending text.
> I want you to tell me what you were most fascinated to see there.
Then I switch to Receive mode.
The answer comes back after a short, silent interval. it is a short answer.
> Jellyfish. Jellyfish from all around the world.
My question and the answer to it are lined up on the upper and lower halves of the screen. I stare at them for a while.
> Jellyfish from all around the world.
It has to be Kumiko. The real Kumiko. That very fact, though, serves only to fill me with pain. I feel as if my insides are being ripped out.«
»I eased out of my chair and started for the corridor by which I had entered the lobby. I had to leave that place as soon as possible. I was not welcome there. I had taken only a few steps when I turned to see that several of the people had left their chairs and were coming after me. I sped up and cut straight across the lobby for the corridor. I had to find my way back to Room 208. The inside of my mouth was dry.«
»The arc of the moon stayed over my head long after the train had left the station, appearing and disappearing each time the train rounded a curve. I kept my eyes on the moon, and whenever that was lost to sight, I watched the lights of the little towns as they went past the window. I thought about May Kasahara, with her blue woolen hat, alone on the bus taking her back to the factory in the hills. then I thought of the duck people, asleep in the grassy shadows somewhere. And finally, I thought of the world, that I was heading back to.«
Aeroplain is a mixture of jazz, electronica, classical, funk and more. You could almost call it “electronica fusion”. Influences from all around the world that is mixed into melodies that become small adventures of minor proportions.
Behind the music
Aeroplain is the brainchild of Massimo Fiorentino, born in Italy, raised in Denmark. At the age of five, he was always standing in the family’s kitchen, conducting the classical orchestras with a piece of spaghetti. At the age of seven he got a toy organ for his birthday, and he immediately began composing small tunes. Ever since, Massimo has been playing, composing and performing in numerous bands. From being a clown’s musical assistant to having composed music for an entire school musical, he has travelled around a lot within countless genres and styles. He has been a drummer, singer, band conductor and pianist and music is closest to his heart, mind and memories.
Currently, and apart from this project he’s performing in a variety of bands, also as a composer. You can dwelve more into what he's up to by visiting his web site and take a look at his musical CV if you like.
Nice to know
Aeroplain is not a misspelling of the word “Aeroplane”, even though it toys around with this very common misspelling. It is a compound of the words ‘aero’ and ‘plain’ - a description of the music in more than one way.
