Leo Takami - Next Door

Come for the chill, clear ECM and Windham Hill guitar tone, find yourself suspended upside down and weightless… But wait, is that a band moving behind him, or is everything synthesized and intricately layered by Takami himself? No matter, wait a few moments and another gorgeous portal will open to drop you elsewhere.

The title track takes a surprising turn with an almost power-pop synth line, before falling into a lighter, more whimsical piano and bass vista with glistening chimes, dashing strings, and wintry, new age bliss. Sure, Takami is having a bit of schmaltzy fun here, and if it maybe feels like he’s sometimes being cheeky about the nostalgic holiday thing, well, that’s kind of what it’s all about, isn’t it?

...his pieces seem as if they were made for the late sunny days of the year because they have an inherent gentleness that borders on naive, which allows no turbulence, only contentment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably assume Next Door to be an archival release from sometime between the mid-‘80s to the early ‘90s. Blending the airy synthetic textures of New Age and the plump, limpid guitar tone of that era’s smooth- and lounge-adjacent fusion jazz, Takami has created a detailed, deep and loving homage to a genre that, in its homeland, was mostly fodder for jokes. Takami takes it seriously while still having fun, and finds a surprising emotional core amid the breezy melodies and supple solos.

His willingness to plainly state his emotional intentions without pandering or infantilizing is refreshing, as if he’s giving the listener permission to explore the complexities of feelings that once seemed easy to understand: You have no idea how interesting happiness can be… On the lengthy lead he plots through “Winter Day,” he plays like he’s reading out loud from Dickens—he’s steady, precise, letting the notes themselves convey the meaning rather than the way he’s voicing them… Over and over again on Next Door, Takami recontextualizes the familiar, returning us to truths whose universality made them cliches in the first place. The stars don’t shine any brighter here; you’re just seeing them through clearer air.

[Takami on sound, space, and performance] The essence of Japanese spatial beauty lies in the contrast between light and shade. Therefore, in my performances, the performer becomes part of the light and shade in the dimly lit room, and only the sound echoes ethereally.