Collected translations of Maaya Sakamoto news, essays, interviews, and articles


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Part 33 of 68 in a series:

I’ve yet to write about the time I spent in New York for mastering.

It was my first time to visit N.Y. Everything was fresh and interesting. My hotel room had a spectacular view of Central Park, where the leaves had started to turn, and every night I went to see a musical on Broadway. Despite feeling a little tired from jet lag, I enjoyed every day.

On mastering day, as I listened to the sounds of “A Boy Named Alice” in a large-windowed studio with a view of the ocean, I felt something indescribably profound. Each track came to completion. The music that took more than a year to slowly put together was on the verge of taking shape. Soon this music will be packaged into a single CD and set off on a journey to the homes of many people. As I thought about how it would soon slip from my hands, I felt joyful, but also a little sad. The “Boy Named Alice” I had envisioned took its final form here.

For me this release is like my own child—unquestionably cute in my eyes, and so my feelings now are of happiness simply because it was born to me. It’s nearly beyond me to make a calm, objective judgment on what kind of album it is, but since I poured my all into it with the utmost care, I’d be truly pleased if it receives the love of many. I can’t think of anything that would make me happier than this album being treasured by everyone and forever remaining in someone’s heart.

The next day my health took a turn for the worse, and though I finally had a whole day off I spent it in the hotel. I imagine it was probably because I could finally relax after seeing my album to completion. It’s nothing to worry about.

Ahh, and I had plans to see one more musical tonight. I wanted to climb the Empire State Building. And go shopping, too. What a waste… But just as I was sinking into a pit of despair an ear-splitting “BOOM!” and a flash outside the window stopped me. When I turned in my surprise to look, I saw soaring before my eyes fireworks from Central Park. They launched one after the other, and I had a front-row seat. This isn’t so bad after all, I thought as I shared in the noodles the staff had delivered to the hotel room, and I soon felt much better. Besides, I worked hard, so this must be my reward—not feeling well meant I could relax for once. With my mood thus brightened, my first trip to N.Y. came to a pleasant close. I left wanting to visit again someday.

Such was how this album was made. Release day is nearly here. I’m bursting with emotion. I very much hope you’ll listen to it.


Part 33 of 68 in a series: