What does Koki Nakano sound like?

Experimental pianist and composer who enjoys taking the classical piano into genres it doesn’t often court.

The review of Ululō by Koki Nakano

With his fourth album, Japanese pianist and composer Koki Nakano takes his beloved piano internally to explore his emotions. ‘Ululō’ roughly translates to ‘Howl’ or ‘Cry’ in Latin and evokes a childhood memory of being held in his father’s arms, yearning to touch the moon. Merging poetic ideas and thoughts with avant-garde emotional swell, ‘Ululō’ is yet another intoxicating album from Nakano.

The album opens with ‘Treve’ with the album swamped in jazzy blues chords. The lethargic, long-drawn notes and pulled brushed percussion move from limp to a rousing canter as various synths and warped sound effects creep in around the evocative freeform piano piece. ‘Buoy’ follows like a slinky, sultry European classical piece. It’s intimate tippy-toe delivery and playful motif sparks curiosity at every bar of music. This only grows when quiet vocal percussion hisses and breathes under the melody whilst bending strings and sonar noises float disembodied around the track.

‘Howling’ features Yael Naim as the first of four tracks with vocals on the album. This captivating number placed Yael’s soft and mysterious voice front and centre whilst the insides of the piano are brushed, struck and hammered to create a haunted, taut undercurrent. Soft strings and some percussion are present but it’s largely Yael’s voice that holds steady to allow Koki’s piano playing to veer off-key, off-track and into a subtle horror movie vibe. This intense, claustrophobic and thick atmosphere continues into ‘Valves’. Wayne Snow performs guest vocals here, bringing a soulful performance drenched in reverb and reminding me of SOHN. Piano takes a backseat here largely for twisted, gurgling and veiny synths that turn into wirey retro synths for the climax of the song. Like most songs on the album, there is a melody here but the song is as much a feeling or a tone poem to feel with.

The album’s centre contains two sub-two-minute tracks. ‘Sequel’ is an in-room intimate piano piece that is full of complex ivory tinkling. Koki Nakano doesn’t place the speed of his fingers front and centre often but there are some excellent moments here. ‘Devot’ is a pulsing hum that grows in layers of tone over its runtime. Every noise is tiny, like an ambient take on Bjork’s Vespertine. As if emerging cleansed from the other side, Wayne Snow returns to perform on ‘Vectical Pool’. This track takes the piano and strings and chops them up into staccato bursts of sounds that swirl around Wayne’s vocals. It is as if the song is audibly dressing itself as by the time we reach the final third, all the throbbing and pulsating is gone and the song is a full band bluesy jazz number. One of the best things about this album is how each song shapeshifts through multiple forms. Koki Nakano keeps you interested and surprised at every turn. If it is not the sound that surprises, it is the melody itself. Not everything is designed to land perfectly in tune either and that may take a few moments to get used to.

Koki plays with colliding time signatures on ‘Prodigal Weep’. One layer of piano shuffles down the keys, whilst another plays a more grandfather clock flourish. As the song progresses water drops and mechanical strangeness seeps in before a detuned circus organ synth sails across the song. We switch from intimate piano to in-room recorded piano on ‘Seraphic June’. For this piece, the piano hammers are cranked up in the mix to create an old-fashioned, rustic production. As the piano blooms and bleeds over the mics, there is a sepia retrospective feeling that makes you feel quite humble. It is one of the most straightforward pieces on the album and it works well. ‘Breathless Sun’ has Koki Nakano embracing his synth side. Clouds of wispy synths hustle and bustle whilst cinematic sweeping synths yawn and pitch bend over the top. It sounds like nothing else on the album before the final track totally surprises. ‘Motsure’ features rapper Jordy who raps over an experimental electronic sample chopped beat. Piano and string samples are peppered around the rhythmic beats and bassline hues but Jordy’s delivery is front and centre. It is intense, ambiguous, and somewhat pessimistic, the hook of “one day I will change but not today” sounds like Jordy – or Koki – is worried about feeling stuck or losing their edge.

In an album full of twists, turns and surprises, ‘Ululō’ still feels largely cohesive in tone and mood. Koki Nakano’s world is full of yearning for better things and this album has moments of the frustration and sadness that true yearning brings. My overwhelming emotion here is a conflict between humble nostalgia and ambiguity for the present and future. Much of ‘Ululō’ sounds mysterious – like it could veer into crisis at any moment. It doesn’t but the tense atmosphere is what makes the album cut through the crowd. It also makes those nostalgic, lighter moments all the more sweeter. This album is for those who like to live between genres and ideas. Koki Nakano conforms for no one.

Recommended track: Howling ft. Yael Naim

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