Conclusion / - Yureru ゆれる -

Conclusion

I'm not good at interviews, and I'm not good at being asked about the meaning of song titles or lyrics either. There was a time when I wondered why I wasn't good at it. Over a long period of time, as I descended within myself, I finally grasped something resembling a "shine" and crawled back up. However, I can't clearly understand the meaning of the words and melodies I saw there. Of course, I mostly decide with a clear intention, and I remember many things. However, there is a tremendous resistance in putting it into words. I grasp something that cannot be put into words, turn it into music, and engrave it within hundreds of seconds of time. In response to spontaneous questions like "What does this mean?" I instinctively scoop up what is floating at the top and inadvertently present it. Unable to convey the precious things that have settled within my endlessly spinning thoughts. My brain doesn't align the part that can't be put into words with the creation. It is very perplexing that I determine that "surface layer" I managed to grasp as its meaning. I realized it's because I feel like I'm depriving the beauty of what is being created by the numerous spaces and gaps between 0 and 1 by verbalizing it. The moment it is spoken.

It may be hard to understand, but my mind is filled with light that cannot be completely overshadowed by suffering, loneliness or sadness. That brilliance never ceases and remains dazzling even now. People might call it happiness, but maybe I prefer pretending not to notice and running through it. I want to remain in the midst of constantly searching for something forever.

I started creating this book without any specific purpose. It's not because I want to teach someone how to make music or boast about being the captain of a soccer club in elementary school. I wrote "I was deceived" at the beginning of this book, but in reality, maybe I went there to be deceived. Perhaps I had curiosity about what kind of music would be born from my empty self, and that curiosity extended to the form of a book. I deliberately jumped into that. Regardless of what anyone says, from my perspective, the way I engage with music is simply common sense. Unable to self-enlighten or reform, just the everyday thoughts of my brain.

By the time I finished writing this book, more than a year and a half had passed, but if I hadn't confronted the book, I wouldn't be here, of course. Just like when I focus my viewfinder on the scenery I want to show someone for those few seconds, if I don't align the focus and press the shutter, that photo won't exist anywhere. There are days when I think that if I hadn't happened to touch an instrument today, this melody wouldn't have been born. Within the passing time, whether I can make a small trigger my own. I'm very happy that this book was born here.

Sometimes, the brain also tells lies. It puts them into words. It puts them into sentences. As I read the sentences I wrote, it's a continuous stream of thinking "Maybe it wasn't like that after all." It may still be too early to explain the collection of miracles created by momentary flashes of inspiration. I pretend to understand as if tracing the completed outline.

It's not bad to be deceived. Thank you for accompanying my brain and time.

Ling Tosite Sigure / TK (Toru Kitajima)