Written by Eric Sperrazza
Knowing Hiroki Tanaka only as being the lead guitarist of adrenaline-boiling tracks such as “One” during his time with Yamantaka // Sonic Titan, there was a certain amount of preset expectation framed up within my mind, as I received his solo effort to listen to. However, the first sign I was about to delve into a deeply personal and new experience with him was simply within the title of the album… Kaigo Kioku Kyoku (Caregiver Memory Songs).
Right on Tanaka‘s site, he proudly proclaims that this endeavor, that I’d be engrossing myself in, was a diary of emotions during a period when he was caregiver to both his grandmother with Alzheimer’s, as well as, his uncle with terminal cancer. With that, a nerve was struck in me. As I had lost a few people in my life who raised me, over the last few years, I remember being desperately afraid the light in those I loved would burn out and forever would disappear the indelible essence of me. So, I began scrambling to try and collect as many memories as I could and catalog stories of my culture, my family and the very foundation blocks that make me who I am, today. The question is, what would I do with all of that? How do I archive all of that to be able to reflect back on when I need it most and to share with my own children? In Tanaka‘s case, he encapsulates the celebration of his culture, the love of his family and the warm moments of caring for your loved ones, not to mention the moments of despair, which are just as important to recognize.
At first, I was not expecting to hear traditional Japanese hymns, poetry or even the voices of his family embedded within these songs. The last thing my ears could’ve contemplated were noises of cuckoo clocks, running water, dinnerware clanging about and even the ringing of a family gong, sprinkled through the production. But, remarkably, they were all incorporated into each song with marksman precision to galvanize the story of this album; the story of a man never wanting to forget his life with a family, rich with culture & love.
With “Bare Hallways,” after the haunting, and yet happily confident voice of Tanaka‘s grandmother passes, you are welcomed to a sound unlike anything you would have expected, knowing Tanaka‘s work, prior. The song embraces you, like that first sip of warm coffee going down your throat and sets the tone of the whole album. Thus, forcing you to lean in, close your eyes and listen. You feel a darkness and an empathy coming through, all at once.
“Eternal Hosts” has Tanaka‘s delivery pay tribute to the patron saint of soft soul & weathered saloon singing, Chris Martin, while a pulse-pounding back-beat breeds a feeling of focus deep within you.
However, “Inori” blankets you within a snapshot of every time you’ve wandered aimlessly, and at wit’s end, pondering what more could be done to find the other side of despair.
With “Snow Drops,” although not much more than the phantom voice of Tanaka‘s grandmother being interviewed by a psychotherapist, its important to note that this reminds you of the reason… the very meaning of this album to Tanaka. It is not left unnoticed that his grandmother’s piano he played with, his whole life, is added to this song, if nothing more than a remembrance of what was, in his life, versus the fleeting memories his grandmother spins, in that moment, of an Alzheimer’s inquest. In the event you got distracted in the beauty of songs, “Snow Drops” grounds you to the purpose of the project.
The first single from Kaigo Kioku Kyoku, “Blue Eyed Doll,” taps, again, the feeling of walking into a Coffee House on a chilly night, sitting down before a musician and immediately being put at ease with the sounds of appreciation and adoration. It is no wonder that this song was chosen to welcome old fans and new to Tanaka‘s solo effort.” Blue Eyed Doll” stays fluid in filling you with the thoughts and emotions that give you a wide-eyed smirk when contentment takes over.
The solemn wrap up of this collection of memories, homages, proverbial diary pages & heart is “Utopia.” It provides a sad sense of moving on. You are overcome with one part emptiness, one part gratitude and two parts fulfillment of self.
I felt every inch of this walk through Tanaka‘s life. Whether it be the sounds of his household, the songs of his culture, the voices of his family or the soul’s roller coaster of emotions when your family begins to slip through your fingers into the night, Tanaka moved me in a way that let me know I was not alone. This album is every bit a reflection of anyone’s anxiety of losing staples in your story, the hunt to gather as much as your heart and mind can hold of the time you have left with influencers, mentors & guardians, and the pain you feel when you know you cannot stop the inevitable.
This album reminded me that I can be grateful, I can look back fondly at what made me and, although it may look scary, I must be courageous to move forward.
At the end of the day, the love, the voices, the noises and the heritage that forged me, will ALWAYS be with me, as well.
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