In TM’s Atelier – Episode 10: Japan
TM, Kakemono IV, 2025, digital visual composition
When I completed my business school in the UK, I received a job offer from a German company.
The thought of continuing my life in Europe after graduation was deeply appealing.
In the early days of business school, I struggled a lot — the so-called language barrier.
But being good at mathematics became a kind of weapon, and I gradually found my way.
It wasn’t that I was exceptional; rather, it made me realise how remarkable Japanese education is.
In that sense, I felt saved by being Japanese.
Yet, as I wrote elsewhere, I am quite atypical within Japanese society.
I don’t think I grew up in a particularly unusual environment — and yet.
People often assume that Japanese are polite, disciplined, and fairly strong in mathematics.
But I like doing things differently, and I’m not fond of belonging to a group.
By nature, I’m not cautious but rather optimistic.
As an adult, I can talk endlessly with someone I meet for the first time.
I value my freedom greatly, and I really dislike having unspoken rules imposed on me — even gently.
You hardly ever see this in Japan
And objectively speaking, the mentality behind creating music like FMT is not what one would typically call “Japanese”.
In fact, my Japanese friends find FMT extremely hard to understand.
In Japan, the voice is central — above all, the lyrics.
Music functions as accompaniment, whose main role is not to get in the way of the singing.
The idea of composing an instrumental piece by altering the structure itself, building a work upon a concept — I’ve rarely seen that in Japan.
Perhaps Tōru Takemitsu, yes — but the examples are few.
There are indeed some pieces in which I consciously included “Japanese” elements —such as Ondo Of Fortified Id, which depicts a scene from 19th-century Japan; Flowers, inspired by the cherry-blossom season; or Urbanscapes, modelled after scenes of 1970s Tokyo.
But I believe you can understand what I mean when I say: it is not “touristic”.
So when people speak of similarities or affinities between FMT and other Japanese musicians, it doesn’t resonate much with me.
But if someone brings up Penguin Cafe Orchestra or Erik Satie, I can easily say:
“Yes, of course — I must have been influenced.”
When we were releasing music only on SoundCloud, almost all the people who found FMT interesting were listeners from the Americas and Europe.
In Japan, hardly anyone paid attention.
Well… in some ways, that hasn’t changed much even now.
This is a form of training
I have always felt at home in Europe.
But whenever I returned to Japan, I was easily placed somewhere outside the circles.
And yet, as with mathematics, there is a part of me that exists only because I was educated in Japan.
I wouldn’t claim to feel exactly what Fujita Tsuguharu felt, but a small part of that sensation — yes —I can imagine it clearly.
“That is precisely why I must live in Japan.
This is a training.
I may wish to stay in Europe forever, but I need to go and learn.
Perhaps my being ‘different’ can be of use in Japan.
I choose, of my own will, to be Japanese.”
Years have passed since then, but on that day, I turned down the offer and “set out” for Japan — not to return to it, but to head toward it.
To be continued
In TM’s Atelier –
Episode 1: Composition Atelier
Episode 2: Geometry on Five Lines
Episode 3: When the Concept Ignites
Episode 4: Everything Begins with the Colour Red
Episode 5: A Journey of Creation and Self-Discovery
Episode 6: What’s Missing in the Age of Marketing Music
Episode 7: Is Listening to Someone Else's Emotions Really That Interesting?
Episode 8: Composer’s Cut on "Le Rêve Restauré"
Episode 10: Japan
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