Some albums seem to be ahead of their time, whilst others simply wait patiently for the time to catch up with them again. White Morning by Fumio Miyashita belongs to the latter category. Recorded in 1989 and now reissued by Ambient Sans, the album feels astonishingly contemporary today. Perhaps even more essential than ever before. For whilst everything around us is becoming faster and more restless, Miyashita’s music offers something that is often in short supply: time.
Miyashita originally came from a progressive rock background, playing with Far Out and the Far East Family Band in the 1970s, before increasingly turning his attention to electronic music as well as healing and meditation music. In his Biwa Studio, he developed music intended not only for the ear, but for breathing and consciousness. This is also the case on White Morning. The two tracks unfold with an almost timeless slowness. Gentle synthesiser pads and delicate acoustic timbres lie side by side, shifting almost imperceptibly, emerging and then fading away again. Every note is given the freedom to unfold before it fades – which is why the tracks are nearly 20 minutes long. The longer you listen, the more you lose track of time. The tiniest of changes gradually emerge: a sound suddenly lingers in the space for longer, a layer shifts almost imperceptibly. The music does not demand concentration, but allows it to arise. And perhaps that is its greatest strength: that it demands nothing, but simply allows time to unfold and reminds us of what we so easily lose amidst the relentless pace of everyday life: the ability to linger.
White Morning
