Category Archives: Film & Music

Feeling good: Watching Wim Wenders’ “Perfect Days”

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I have always held Wim Wenders’ films close to my heart. From Wings of Desire and his road movies (such as Alice in the Cities and Paris, Texas) to acclaimed documentaries like The Salt of the Earth and Buena Vista Social Club, his works have always managed to capture my imagination and excite my senses. If I had to pinpoint a certain theme that permeates his whole oeuvre, I think I would choose freedom – or rather the pursuit of it.

This is also the case with Wenders’ latest film Perfect Days, shot entirely in Tokyo and written by Takuma Takasaki and Wenders himself. It follows the everyday life of Hirayama (played by Kōji Yakusho), a middle-aged toilet cleaner who lives and works in Tokyo. The film’s pace is slow and whatever little “action” takes place is portrayed in a subtle and delicate manner, reflecting the protagonist’s mild and gentle character.

Hirayama lives alone in a small apartment, full of books and music cassettes. He spends his days quietly, observing a strict daily ritual: he wakes up at dawn, grabs a refrshment from the vending machine, and drives his van to the city center to work. As soon as his shift is over, he pays a visit to the public bath to relax, followed by a drink in his local hangout. Once he returns home, he reads for a while and goes to sleep, often having elusive dreams of trees, leaves and other patterns.

Along with Hirayama, the other main protagonist is the film’s soundtrack, which subtly follows and comments upon the characters’ actions and feelings. From Velvet Underground’s Pale Blue Eyes and Lou Reed’s Perfect Day (which lends its title to the film) to The Kinks’ Sunny Afternoon and Patti Smith’s Redondo Beach, every song is organically tied to the storyline, strategically placed with precision and thoughtfulness.

An important element in the story is Hirayama’s love for music – mostly ’60s rock – and affection for cassettes, an old-fashioned analog medium that has long been superseded by digital formats in modern-day Tokyo like anywhere else. When his niece Niko (a reference to Nico, the German singer-actress who sang with Velvet Underground on their legendary debut album) asks him if a song is available on Spotify, he naively asks where exactly that “shop” can be found.

As the story evolves, we are offered a glimpse into Hirayama’s rich inner world, his intimate thoughts and feelings, always accompanied by the sound of his favorite music. Slowly but steadily, a portrait emerges of someone who has struggled to become his true self; who has fought and succeeded in gaining his own fragile freedom; who has learned to appreciate the little things and live in the present moment; someone whose sense of self is achieved through embracing both pain and joy, as pictured beautifully in the film’s closing scene, aptly illuminated with Nina Simone’s exhilarating music and words:

Oh, freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life for me

I’m feeling good

Ryuichi Sakamoto and the “erosion of technology”: An epic odyssey in sound and nature

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A musical pioneer

This year was sadly marked by the loss of acclaimed Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto (1952 – 2023). A truly multifaceted artist, Sakamoto was a pianist, record producer, pioneer of electronic music (both as solo artist and founder of technopop super group Yellow Magic Orchestra), as well as an actor and film composer – remarkably, he both scored and acted in Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence (1983) alongside David Bowie, as well as in Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor (1987), for which he won an Oscar for original score.

At home in a diverse range of styles and genres, Sakamoto was a pivotal figure in electronic, pop, world and film music, throughout his long career from the late 1970s to his moving farewell performance in late 2022 and his last solo album 12, which was released in January 2023, two months before his death from cancer. In 2017, the documentary Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda was released, following the composer’s struggle with cancer and the creative challenges during the slow, yet fulfilling, process of creating new and meaningful music.

A scene from Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda. © Neo Sora/MUBI

From Bach to Tarkovsky

One of the things that quickly become apparent while watching Coda is Sakamoto’s admiration of film director Andrei Tarkovsky. Greatly influenced by Tarkovsky’s work, Sakamoto was particularly fascinated by the way the Russian director used sound to create unique and rich “auditory textures”. As he puts it: “Tarkovsky’s soundtracks create intimate soundscapes. In a sense, he was a musician.” Inspired by Tarkovsky’s use of Bach chorales, Sakamoto went on to compose solari, his own piece in the spirit of Tarkovsky.

In fact, Sakamoto’s mesmerizing album async (2017) can be viewed as a soundtrack for a nonexistent movie by Tarkovsky. In Life, Life we hear the words from the wonderfully meditative poem And this I dreamt, and this I dream by Arseny Tarkovsky (Andrei’s father):

To one side from ourselves, to one side from the world                                                  Wave follows wave to break on the shore                                                                               On each wave is a star, a person, a bird                                                                                Dreams, reality, death - on wave after wave.

Raising awareness

A dedicated environmentalist and activist, Sakamoto was a member of the anti-nuclear organization Stop Rokkasho and supported the closing down of nuclear power plants following the Fukushima nuclear disaster, actively participating in related protests. In 2012, Sakamoto also organized the No Nukes 2012 concert, which featured performances by several groups including Yellow Magic Orchestra and Kraftwerk.

Sakamoto’s environmental concerns intensified during the last decades of his life. As he relates: “My awareness of environmental crises started to trouble me around 1992. I began to sense danger, feel alarm. The environment wasn’t worsening on its own. There was a link to human activity, which means it could be fixed. But it all depends on the choices humans make. […] The Japanese people need to speak up to those in power. We can’t allow ourselves to get discouraged or complacent. We Japanese have kept too quiet for the past 40-50 years.”

These concerns were an important influence on his work, as exemplified by his work LIFE (1999), which combines music with footage of Hiroshima’s bombing during WWII and the famous line from the Hindu sacred text Bhagavad Gita (“Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds”) spoken by J. Robert Oppenheimer, the “father” of the atomic bomb himself.

In tune with nature

According to Sakamoto, the world is full of sounds which we don’t normally hear as “music”. However, he adds, “the sounds are very interesting, musically. So, I have a strong desire to incorporate them into my work, mix them with instruments into one soundscape. A sonic blending that is both chaotic and unified.” Such sonic amalgamate can also take on a metaphysical dimension: “I’m fascinated by the notion of a perpetual sound, one that won’t dissipate over time. I suppose in literary terms it would be like a metaphor for eternity.”

Sakamoto’s profound attunement with the natural world took him on an epic journey from recording sounds in Lake Turkana in northern Kenya (used in his song Only Love Can Conquer Hate) to “fishing the sound” of melting snow in the Arctic Circle, while making numerous other field recordings and visiting key sites like Fukushima’s restricted contamination zone.

In the end, it’s the return to a more natural state of being that seemed to appeal to Sakamoto, in sharp contrast to the unhalted, rapid technological progress. As the composer reveals: “I’m interested in the erosion of technology, such as errors or noises.” His thoughts are illuminating: “Nature is forced into shape. Interestingly, the piano requires re-tuning. We humans say it falls out of tune. But that’s not exactly accurate. Matter is struggling to return to a natural state. […] In short, the piano is tuned by force to please our ears or ideals. It’s a condition that feels natural to us humans. But from nature’s perspective, it’s very unnatural. I think deep inside me somewhere, I have a strong aversion to that.”

Let it be(at): some notes on the ‘Get Back’ documentary

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I recently finished watching the full Get Back documentary, directed and produced by Peter Jackson and released as a miniseries in 3 episodes. With a total running time of nearly 8 hours it may seem a daunting task at first, but true Beatles fans will most likely be craving for more once the viewing is over.

Although it draws material from the 1970 Let It Be documentary, Get Back is a far cry from Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s earlier film. Meticulously going through 60 hours of film footage and over 150 hours of audio, Jackson and his team have produced an impressive work that accurately captures the subtleties and nuances of the band’s inner relations and tensions, their interaction with friends and collaborators, as well as the broader cultural climate of the era.

A fly on the studio wall

Following the band through 3 consecutive weeks in January 1969, we are literally being transferred inside the studio with the Beatles, following every little chat between the band members and seeing them unravel their musical and creative ideas. The experience is truly astonishing and, for once, exactly what the film’s trailer promises: unprecedented access to the most intimate footage ever shot of the band.

We get to hear Lennon’s hilarious quips and witticisms, see McCartney doing an impersonation of Elvis, or watch Yoko Ono and Linda Eastman chatting casually in the background. More intriguingly, we overhear the conservation between Lennon and McCartney as they are trying to handle a sudden crisis (caused by Harrison’s temporary resignation) via a hidden microphone planted inside a flower pot. Reality TV has rarely been more culturally meaningful or historically informative.

Breaking up can be fun

As the film goes on, we are gradually being immersed in the developments during the band’s fateful final period. And it’s actually a lively and rather joyous picture full of excitement, sparkly music, contagious laughs and that unmistakable Beatles humor, tied to their innate ability of having fun at all times while simultaneously making fun of pretty much everything – especially of themselves.

So, even though the band’s imminent break up is kind of hanging over Apple Corps headquarters like a specter, the boys are still having a great time and some magical moments are born despite, or -more likely- because of, the underlying tension. We watch them as they literally give birth to some of their finest music, going through sketches of songs like Across the Universe, Get Back, I Me Mine and I Got a Feeling (or ”I got a hard-on” as Lennon jokes), in between endless jams, impromptus, and casual conversations over tea and toast.

A particularly revealing moment comes up when keyboardist Billy Preston comes in and starts jamming with the band in the studio. Seeing the refreshing effect his presence brings to the band’s playing and overall vibes, Lennon says: ”I’d just like him in our band, actually. I’d like a fifth Beatle.” In what closely resembles a family discussion about adoption, Harrison agrees: ”We can do that.” McCartney, however, is quick to end the enthusiasm about getting extra band members: ”I just don’t, cause it’s just bad enough with four” (for a small taste of alternate music history, just listen to the amazing performance of Without a Song by Preston and the band during the end titles of the second episode).

To the (roof)toppermost of the poppermost

Along with a priceless view and uncensored access to the Beatles at work during their final days, the film also offers a unique glimpse of swinging London and the surrounding cultural milieu. We see the band discussing daily news, newspaper articles (often about themselves) and contemporary TV programs, while in the last episode the camera moves out of the studio and on to the rooftop that is about to become the stage for the band’s last public performance.

The film culminates with the famous rooftop concert, a show largely spontaneous and improvised, as can be seen by the band’s relaxed and playful attitude. With the blue-gray London skyline as a backdrop, the Beatles go through some of their new songs for an invisible audience, as people start gathering down the street and around the neighboring rooftops, unaware they are witnessing a landmark event in 20th-century cultural history.

The Beatles rooftop concert (Evening Standard, Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

It is hard to miss the irony of the band singing ”Get Back” almost at the face of the police officers who are sent to restore order, ultimately stopping the performance due to complaints for ”breach of the peace”. Indeed, the Beatles had been disturbing musical peace from their early beginnings in Liverpool and Hamburg right up to their final public concert in the heart of London – a fitting epilogue to the band’s cataclysmic career that encapsulates some of the essential traits that made them great: their unique chemistry and charisma on (and off) stage, their unpredictability and unhindered creative spark, and of course an overwhelming sense of the sheer, pure joy of music making.

Someday in Athens: The 4 Levels of Existence then and now

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The band

Mid-1970s, Greece. Following the fall of the military junta, amid difficult circumstances that were however marked by widespread creativity and -hitherto suppressed- artistic activity, a rock band was beginning to take shape through lengthy jams inside improvised music studios somewhere in the western suburbs of Athens. Its name? The 4 Levels of Existence.

The 4 Levels of Existence – top to bottom: Athanasios Alatas, Christos Vlachakis, Marinos Yamalakis, Nikos Grapsas / photo by Vassilis Asimakopoulos

The band’s initial line-up consisted of ex-Frog’s Eye members Athanasios Alatas (rhythm guitar) and Christos Vlachakis (drums), together with Marinos Yamalakis (bass – vocals) and Nikos Dounavis (lead guitar). The group started rehearsing and making live appearances  (mostly in local cinemas as was customary for Greek bands at the time), eventually managing to win third place in a music contest organized by the National Radio and Television Foundation (EIRT) in 1975.

After having Dounavis replaced by Nikos Grapsas (lead guitar – vocals), the band was asked to make an album for Venus Records, a small record label specialized -oddly enough- in Greek folk and popular music. It was, nevertheless, a unique opportunity and the band didn’t miss it: On 5 and 6 January 1976 at the legendary Columbia Studios in Athens, their first -and only- album was recorded. Within just 10 (!) hours in total, the recording was ready after two short sessions: first all instrumental tracks were laid, then the vocals were added.

The album

Although born under such tight time constraints and adverse circumstances (there was essentially no producer or sound engineer), the band’s self-tiled debut album was nevertheless an extraordinary achievement : A guitar-based blend of psychedelia, folk and hard rock that also featured Greek lyrics – something unusual for a rock band at the time.

A highly original mix of diverse elements, the record manages to convey a considerably wide spectrum, both musically and emotionally – from teenage aggression and heavy guitar riffs (“Metamorphic”) to controlled emotional outbursts (“The Fool’s Trumpet”) and melodic passages that exude a nostalgic feeling of youthful melancholy and lyricism (“Untitled”, “Disappointment”).

The album’s original 1976 vinyl release – the cover art was created by Athanasios Alatas, initially conceived for Frog’s Eye

Shortly after the album’s release, the band was dissolved. However, their sole recording would follow its own incredible course, becoming a highly sought-after item among record collectors and considered one of the rarest Greek rock discs ever. Moreover, in an amazing turn of events, US rappers Kanye West and Jay-Z used Alata’s guitar riff from “Someday in Athens” as a sample for their hit song “Run this Town”, which would be sung by Rihanna and win two Grammy Awards in 2010.

Following subsequent releases in both vinyl and CD format, the 4 Levels of Existence album was recently re-released in beautiful 180gr vinyl by Anazitisi Records, a small independent label that specializes in psychedelic/progressive/blues/jazz/rock records from the 1960s and 1970s.

The movie

Just as the band’s music resurfaces once more, becoming available for a new generation of listeners, the story behind the 4 Levels of Existence has been just made into a film documentary. Directed by Iliana Danezi, the film will be having its première next week at the 21st Thessaloniki Documentary Festival.

While offering an overview of the band’s history, the film traces the surviving band members (Alatas, Vlachakis and Grapsas) and depicts them in their current whereabouts, painting their individual portraits and highlighting the development of their distinct personalities. What is more, the three musicians are seen together again some -special- day in Athens, chatting, strolling around old hangouts, and jamming for the first time in a very long time…

The band’s surviving members in 2018, during the shooting of the documentary (left to right: Nikos Grapsas, Athanasios Alatas, Christos Vlachakis)

In the end, the band’s story can also be seen as a reflection on changing times and the things that matter most as time flies by: the common aspirations and dreams of youth, the power of friendship, the sense of group solidarity and identity, the fulfillment brought by artistic expression, the feeling that not everything has been futile or wasted…

In the words of the band’s guitarist Athanasios Alatas: “[Our] record is dedicated to all the bands that played in West Attica at the time. All those who didn’t get a chance to record, who broke up, etc. All those who did their best back then, to fulfill their life and dreams through music.”

 

At the meeting point of Greek cinema and music: Notes on a remarkable collaboration

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A pivotal figure at the intersection of Greek cinema and music, Costas Ferris is mostly known as the director of the award-winning film Rembetiko, and -to a lesser extent- for having penned the lyrics for Aphrodite’s Child’s psychedelic masterpiece 666.

Probably less known has been the collaboration between Ferris and musician Stavros Logaridis, member of the famous Greek pop group Poll and founder of the progressive rock ensemble Akritas, whose debut (and sole) self-titled album still ranks as one of the very peaks of its genre.

Described as a “dance suite for quartet and play back”, Akritas (1973) features a highly original blend of rock, electronic, classical as well as folk elements. Ferris, who had first met Logaridis in London in late 1972, wrote the lyrics for this truly outstanding album, which (like Aphrodite’s Child 666) contains biblical references and allusions to the Book of Revelation in particular.

The two men would soon collaborate again for Ferris’s film The Murderess (1974), based on a well-known Greek novel by Alexandros Papadiamantis. A visually stunning and innovative film, The Murderess also stands out for its unique soundtrack, consisting solely of instrumental electronic music. Composed by Logaridis, who was only 21 years old at the time, the music is largely experimental and abstract, yet closely following the film’s narrative and complementing the various themes and motifs so effectively it soon becomes itself one of the movie’s major components.

Ferris and Logaridis would form a close friendship and collaborate again on various occasions, including the music for the TV series Violet City in 1975 (which would actually lead to a legal battle against Vangelis concerning the famous theme from his Oscar-winning score for Chariots of Fire).

Although Logaridis never quite achieved the level of fame or international success of artists like Vangelis or Aphrodite’s Child, his singular talent remains indisputable. Not unlike Ferris’s seminal role in the evolution of modern Greek cinema, Logaridis’s work has been crucial -if somewhat understated- for the development of the Greek music scene in the 1970s and 1980s.

Indeed, as testified by such groundbreaking works as The Murderess and Akritas, the collaboration between the two Greek artists bore some very special fruit, both on screen and on record.