Stuff to listen to…?

Not gonna lie, I’m totally looking forward to finding some new albums that could get some heavy rotation during my upcoming writing sessions for Theadia. Each project has had its own playlists and/or albums that become their de facto soundtrack, and I’m sure this one will be no different.

The only difference here, I think, is that I want these albums to have more staying power than the ones tied to my post-trilogy work. There are some records that will always be tied in with the trilogy (And You Think You Know What Life’s About, Sea Change, Fantastic Planet, and so on), and Diwa & Kaffi had The Sound of Arrows’ Stay Free, but that’s about it. I’m not trying to shoehorn any albums into this new project, mind you…I’m just wondering if there’s going to be any that will be as closely tied.

Which brings me to my wanting to pay a little more attention to the music I’ve been listening to. I’ve said previously that the last few years have felt more like I’d focused more on acquisition than connection, and I want to change that. And one of the ways to make that happen is to actively return to some of these albums. That’s what I did in the Belfry back in the day: I’d start off each session putting on a specific cd I wanted to hear to get myself in the mood. Sometimes it was a new release, other times it was an old classic. It really did depend (and still does) on the scene I was about to work on.

I have the music library, I just need to choose what I want to hear.

two hours of peaceful zen moments

If anything, that’s how I would describe Wim Wenders’ new movie Perfect Days. I’ve always been a fan of his work, and in a way he’s been a influence on my own work: from his movie Until the End of the World I learned how to take my time telling a story, allowing it as much time as it wants or needs, and using those quiet moments as part of the story itself.

This new film simply follows one man throughout his days, working for the city of Tokyo as a public toilet cleaner. He takes pride in his work, says little, and captures quiet moments of his day with an old film camera, mostly of the sun filtering through the tree canopy above (komorebi is the theme of the entire film, and is mentioned in a post-credit shot at the end of the film). Is there even any conflict in this? Yes, there is! But the brilliant thing is how he handles each moment that pulls him out of his daily habits: he observes, he contemplates, and he adjusts. Even when the experience deeply upsets him, he eventually learns from it. His life may have been slightly changed forever in those moments, but he never refuses to embrace them.

And Koji Yakusho, who plays the old man, deserves all the awards and nominations he’s been getting. He rarely reacts with any kind of emotion at first, only opening up near the end, but throughout the entire film he lets out tiny moments of extreme joy: a slight smile, the shine of his eyes, a hum of acceptance. Just those simple and understated moments have the ability to carry the entire scene to show that within, his emotions are nearly always full to bursting.

I can’t say enough about how brilliant, lovely and peaceful this movie was, and I highly recommend it. It’s a masterpiece and a perfect film for studying how to take your time telling your story.