Japanese Piano Miniatures Works - Flowers of Yugen

As a clear homage to Johann Sebastian Bach(1685–1750), Yasushi Akutagawa(1925–1989) wrote that his set would “make one circuit of the circle of fifths in 24 pieces.” What he aimed for, however, was music that would not be confined to being “for children.” He stated that, while writing in an accessible manner, he wanted it to be music whose pleasures adults could “share” with children. Within this rich variety of character, what is most often singled out as unmistakably Akutagawa is the insistent use of repetition(ostinato). It slips naturally into everyday listening—and with each return, it offers fresh discoveries.

As a clear homage to Johann Sebastian Bach(1685–1750), Yasushi Akutagawa(1925–1989) wrote that his set would “make one circuit of the circle of fifths in 24 pieces.” What he aimed for, however, was music that would not be confined to being “for children.” He stated that, while writing in an accessible manner, he wanted it to be music whose pleasures adults could “share” with children. Within this rich variety of character, what is most often singled out as unmistakably Akutagawa is the insistent use of repetition(ostinato). It slips naturally into everyday listening—and with each return, it offers fresh discoveries.

The digital album Yūgen no Hana - Japanese Piano Miniatures brings together portraits of “the seasons” and “Japanese sonorities,” drawn in distinct musical languages by five composers and gathered like a single bouquet: Akira Ifukube (1914-2006), Yoritsune Matsudaira (1907-2001), Hideko Ohki (1919-2008), Kazu Nakaseko (1908-1973), and Yoshio Hachimura (1938-1985). Rather than large-scale forms, each work carries the presence, breathing space, and sharply defined contours that emerge precisely through the concentrated intensity of the miniature. Akira Ifukube’s “Tanabata,” which opens the album, transforms the piano’s struck sound into a ritual-like stillness, embracing even the shadows that linger after the notes have faded. The preludes, gentle pieces, pastoral dances, and the two “Lied” movements by Yoritsune Matsudaira balance simplicity with refinement in a rare equilibrium, setting Japanese modal sensibility and a bodily sense of dance upright and clear upon the keyboard. In Hideko Ohki’s works, titles evoking flowers and grasses, a child’s landscape, quiet conversations, and memories become, as folk music, the very grain of Japanese sound. Into this comes the prayer-like concentration of Kazu Nakaseko’s “Prelude” and “A Short Piece on ‘Harusame,’” bearing the poise of Christian music; and the album closes with Yoshio Hachimura’s Fantasy of Higanbana, Op. 6, which does not shatter the stillness but turns it toward another depth. Please enjoy this exquisite collection of miniatures, tracing the beauty of the moment when sound takes on its own chiaroscuro and returns to silence.

"In July 2025, I, Nanako Sugiura, visited the composer Tsuneya Tanabe, who had just turned 90. What brought me there was the deep emotional resonance I felt with his work, “Windows – 29 Pieces for Piano.” There is a kind of quiet solitude in these pieces— yet within that stillness lies a gentle beauty, a gaze filled with warmth and tenderness. As I played through each piece, I felt as though that spirit was breathing softly within every note. This collection consists of 29 educational pieces that are accessible even to beginners. Given that Mr. Tanabe taught for many years at Musashino Academia Musicae, I initially imagined him in the image of a thoughtful, intellectual educator. But when I met him in person, I encountered someone far beyond what I had imagined. He is a true artist—one who has lived through the hardships of wartime and the postwar era, and who has always reflected on life through the lens of music. What I saw in him was a quiet strength, and a profound artistic spirit. This collection, Windows, is not merely a set of teaching materials. I believe it represents one of the artistic culminations of Tanabe’s lifelong journey in music— a body of work that should rightly be called art. I would like to share with you Mr. Tanabe’s own words about this collection. If they help you connect to the source of his music, I would be deeply grateful. What is seen through a window, what appears within the window, what lies beyond it, what is reflected in the window of the heart… what returns again in that inner window… Each of these pieces captures a personal, familiar world. These works were written primarily as teaching materials for piano lessons, especially for children. As such, they are not technically demanding pieces that only professional pianists can play. Nor were they composed with the aim of dazzling an audience at large concerts or recitals through technical brilliance or dramatic effects. What I value most is that the performer can resonate with the music itself in each piece. Of course, a performance that reaches a high level of refinement and is celebrated by many as universal art is a wonderful thing. But the true starting point lies in the performer’s own sensitivity to music that arises from within. With this in mind, each piece in this collection contains what I consider to be the origin of my own musical expression.

As a clear homage to Johann Sebastian Bach(1685–1750), Yasushi Akutagawa(1925–1989) wrote that his set would “make one circuit of the circle of fifths in 24 pieces.” What he aimed for, however, was music that would not be confined to being “for children.” He stated that, while writing in an accessible manner, he wanted it to be music whose pleasures adults could “share” with children. Within this rich variety of character, what is most often singled out as unmistakably Akutagawa is the insistent use of repetition(ostinato). It slips naturally into everyday listening—and with each return, it offers fresh discoveries.

As a clear homage to Johann Sebastian Bach(1685–1750), Yasushi Akutagawa(1925–1989) wrote that his set would “make one circuit of the circle of fifths in 24 pieces.” What he aimed for, however, was music that would not be confined to being “for children.” He stated that, while writing in an accessible manner, he wanted it to be music whose pleasures adults could “share” with children. Within this rich variety of character, what is most often singled out as unmistakably Akutagawa is the insistent use of repetition(ostinato). It slips naturally into everyday listening—and with each return, it offers fresh discoveries.

The digital album Yūgen no Hana - Japanese Piano Miniatures brings together portraits of “the seasons” and “Japanese sonorities,” drawn in distinct musical languages by five composers and gathered like a single bouquet: Akira Ifukube (1914-2006), Yoritsune Matsudaira (1907-2001), Hideko Ohki (1919-2008), Kazu Nakaseko (1908-1973), and Yoshio Hachimura (1938-1985). Rather than large-scale forms, each work carries the presence, breathing space, and sharply defined contours that emerge precisely through the concentrated intensity of the miniature. Akira Ifukube’s “Tanabata,” which opens the album, transforms the piano’s struck sound into a ritual-like stillness, embracing even the shadows that linger after the notes have faded. The preludes, gentle pieces, pastoral dances, and the two “Lied” movements by Yoritsune Matsudaira balance simplicity with refinement in a rare equilibrium, setting Japanese modal sensibility and a bodily sense of dance upright and clear upon the keyboard. In Hideko Ohki’s works, titles evoking flowers and grasses, a child’s landscape, quiet conversations, and memories become, as folk music, the very grain of Japanese sound. Into this comes the prayer-like concentration of Kazu Nakaseko’s “Prelude” and “A Short Piece on ‘Harusame,’” bearing the poise of Christian music; and the album closes with Yoshio Hachimura’s Fantasy of Higanbana, Op. 6, which does not shatter the stillness but turns it toward another depth. Please enjoy this exquisite collection of miniatures, tracing the beauty of the moment when sound takes on its own chiaroscuro and returns to silence.

"In July 2025, I, Nanako Sugiura, visited the composer Tsuneya Tanabe, who had just turned 90. What brought me there was the deep emotional resonance I felt with his work, “Windows – 29 Pieces for Piano.” There is a kind of quiet solitude in these pieces— yet within that stillness lies a gentle beauty, a gaze filled with warmth and tenderness. As I played through each piece, I felt as though that spirit was breathing softly within every note. This collection consists of 29 educational pieces that are accessible even to beginners. Given that Mr. Tanabe taught for many years at Musashino Academia Musicae, I initially imagined him in the image of a thoughtful, intellectual educator. But when I met him in person, I encountered someone far beyond what I had imagined. He is a true artist—one who has lived through the hardships of wartime and the postwar era, and who has always reflected on life through the lens of music. What I saw in him was a quiet strength, and a profound artistic spirit. This collection, Windows, is not merely a set of teaching materials. I believe it represents one of the artistic culminations of Tanabe’s lifelong journey in music— a body of work that should rightly be called art. I would like to share with you Mr. Tanabe’s own words about this collection. If they help you connect to the source of his music, I would be deeply grateful. What is seen through a window, what appears within the window, what lies beyond it, what is reflected in the window of the heart… what returns again in that inner window… Each of these pieces captures a personal, familiar world. These works were written primarily as teaching materials for piano lessons, especially for children. As such, they are not technically demanding pieces that only professional pianists can play. Nor were they composed with the aim of dazzling an audience at large concerts or recitals through technical brilliance or dramatic effects. What I value most is that the performer can resonate with the music itself in each piece. Of course, a performance that reaches a high level of refinement and is celebrated by many as universal art is a wonderful thing. But the true starting point lies in the performer’s own sensitivity to music that arises from within. With this in mind, each piece in this collection contains what I consider to be the origin of my own musical expression.

"In July 2025, I, Nanako Sugiura, visited the composer Tsuneya Tanabe, who had just turned 90. What brought me there was the deep emotional resonance I felt with his work, “Windows – 29 Pieces for Piano.” There is a kind of quiet solitude in these pieces— yet within that stillness lies a gentle beauty, a gaze filled with warmth and tenderness. As I played through each piece, I felt as though that spirit was breathing softly within every note. This collection consists of 29 educational pieces that are accessible even to beginners. Given that Mr. Tanabe taught for many years at Musashino Academia Musicae, I initially imagined him in the image of a thoughtful, intellectual educator. But when I met him in person, I encountered someone far beyond what I had imagined. He is a true artist—one who has lived through the hardships of wartime and the postwar era, and who has always reflected on life through the lens of music. What I saw in him was a quiet strength, and a profound artistic spirit. This collection, Windows, is not merely a set of teaching materials. I believe it represents one of the artistic culminations of Tanabe’s lifelong journey in music— a body of work that should rightly be called art. I would like to share with you Mr. Tanabe’s own words about this collection. If they help you connect to the source of his music, I would be deeply grateful. What is seen through a window, what appears within the window, what lies beyond it, what is reflected in the window of the heart… what returns again in that inner window… Each of these pieces captures a personal, familiar world. These works were written primarily as teaching materials for piano lessons, especially for children. As such, they are not technically demanding pieces that only professional pianists can play. Nor were they composed with the aim of dazzling an audience at large concerts or recitals through technical brilliance or dramatic effects. What I value most is that the performer can resonate with the music itself in each piece. Of course, a performance that reaches a high level of refinement and is celebrated by many as universal art is a wonderful thing. But the true starting point lies in the performer’s own sensitivity to music that arises from within. With this in mind, each piece in this collection contains what I consider to be the origin of my own musical expression.