I am forever in awe of those blessed not only with the opportunity to uproot and relocate to distant lands but, more significantly, armed with the resilience to navigate such profound changes successfully. Pianist and experimental composer Alessandro Takeshi epitomizes this spirit as he bid farewell to what I imagine are the serene landscapes of rural Maine, embracing the allure of Tokyo‘s vibrant piano bars and neon-lit streets. This move beyond borders symbolizes more than a mere geographical shift—it signifies a purposeful act of self-discovery.
From his newfound haven, Alessandro Takeshi unfurled his latest full-length, “We Could Be Friends,” a 7-track album not only showcasing his piano virtuosity but also offering a glimpse into his evolution as a composer. A quick browse of Takeshi‘s discography to date unveils a profound metamorphosis that mirrors his migration to the Japanese megalopolis. Shedding the synthesizers and samplers that once fueled his work in the DIY venues of New England, This was a transformation that WAS as dramatic as swapping the tranquillity of Maine‘s rustic expanses for the bustling excitement of Tokyo‘s neon-drenched avenues.
As if often the case, this musical journey begins in the classical realm, where a youthful Alessandro wielded a cello—a skill no doubt honed through hours and hours of disciplined practice, laying the groundwork for future exploration of diverse instruments and sounds. Yet, this skill was stowed for years, as he plunged into the liberating world of experimental music within the indie scene. Organic instruments were discarded for samplers and synths, and Takeshi‘s live setup became a spectacle—a folding table rigged with contact microphones, played with a drumstick, transforming into a percussive synth. These performances transcended mere musical showcases; they were live deconstructions, with each song dismantled and annihilated on stage. Frankly, the mere description of these shows makes me wish I had experienced at least one firsthand.
Fast forward to the present day, where the trajectory, as alluded to earlier, takes another significant turn. Samplers were now the ones being relinquished, and the homemade electronic-rigged folding tables were left behind. Tokyo‘s piano bars became his muse for the next chapter. Stripping down to the basics, he returned to performing with just himself and an instrument—this time, the piano.
If the challenge was to create his most accessible music to date, “We Could Be Friends” is an undeniable triumph. Alessandro Takeshi emerges as a singular musical narrator, seamlessly blending chamber-pop arrangements with avant-garde influences, all anchored by poignant lyrics and vivid narratives.
Upon first inspection, shades reminiscent of Regina Spektor emerge, drawing parallels with her eccentric and emotive songwriting. Similarly, the criminally underappreciated New York band Emanuel and the Fear offers a relevant comparison. Renowned for their orchestral indie-pop sound, they skillfully employed an array of instruments constructing a rich and expansive musical tapestry. akin to these artists, Takeshi proves particularly fluent in adding layers of complexity to his expanding musical narrative.
Takeshi has shared that the album’s themes originated from an unease stemming from the stagnating economies of both the US and Japan, a phenomenon profoundly shaping the perspectives and relationships of the younger generation. The artist’s razor-sharp lyrics become a vessel to articulate this unease, interwoven into a sound that feels timeless and deceptively upbeat. Even under the weight of these substantial themes, he feels compelled to offer a glimpse of optimism.
Consider the title track, “We Could Be Friends,” for instance. With its lively piano playing and spirited vocals, it is captivating from the outset, setting the tone for what follows. Exuberant string injections drive into the heart of the song, leading to an emotive vocal escalation, posing the poignant question, “Don’t you get fatigued from waiting?” The track spirals through vibrant sequences and tender vocals, concluding with the most magnetic of outros, reflecting a penchant for heartfelt and melodic songcraft.
“Game Theory” transcends the conventional boundaries of pop, delving into the complexities of relationships framed by economic concepts. Against an upbeat backdrop, Takeshi narrates a gamified love story, expertly concealing profound themes beneath the veneer of pure pop. This further exemplifies the artist’s prowess in infusing intricate themes into seemingly buoyant melodies.
Throughout, the piano riffs serve as the glue binding it all together. “Coffee” introduces catchy rhythms, envisioning dreams of award victories before grounding them in the reality of coffee-induced fantasies. “The Man Who Loves You” leans more toward rock opera, showcasing Alessandro Takeshi‘s seamless transition between guitar-led anthems and soul-stirring piano balladry.
Taking a lively turn, “Rat Race” continues along similar lyrical themes, reflecting on the regrets accompanying the pursuit of upward mobility. With a punchy beat and assured vocals, Takeshi lays bare the toll of societal pressures. The track’s anthemic quality and distorted guitars convey a sense of urgency, perfectly complementing the narrative. As Takeshi croons, “Just another veteran of the rat race, I ain’t proud of who I had to be,” we can sense his disdain for the mere fact of having to participate in the game.
“Long Time No See” functions as a contemplative interlude, slowing down the proceedings with brooding piano and flourishing cymbals just in time for the Springsteen-inspired folk-rock leanings of “A Reactionary Year.” Readers familiar with our blog over the years will be keenly aware of our passion for The Boss, so this homage through the appropriation of the 1980s classic “Hungry Heart” is a touch that resonated with us.
As Alessandro Takeshi contemplates the unchangeability of the world, his piano becomes an instrument of reflection in “Today,” the closing track of the album. This anthemic slow rock number serves as a moving bookend for “We Could Be Friends,” with its soaring choruses and heartfelt vocals echoing Takeshi‘s belief in the importance of living in the present and cherishing every moment.
Beyond his recorded works, Takeshi‘s classical compositions have recently found a place in the popular podcast “Hell On Earth,” unveiling another facet of his artistic arsenal. It is this ability to traverse genres and moods that showcases not only versatility but also a commitment to evolving his sound in sync with the complexities of the world around us.
Alessandro Takeshi‘s musical journey stands as a testament to the power of reinvention and the universality of storytelling through sound. “We Could Be Friends” feels not just like an album but a vibrant and exciting chapter in an ever-evolving life and career. Somewhere in the dynamic hum of Tokyo‘s nightlife lies the brilliant artist behind the keys—a composer, a storyteller, and an experimenter, painting symphonies in vivid hues.
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