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A Conversation Between Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) and Artist Yosuke Tsuchida—Part 2: Music Culture and Japanese Society

田中亮太 — Fri, 03 Mar 2023 09:00:00 +0000

（L→R）Artist Yosuke Tsuchida、Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL)

YOSUKE TSUCHIDA （YOKKE）
Born in Kyoto. Yosuke Tsuchida, AKA YOKKE, mainly designs and directs album covers, such as those by DYGL, NOT WONK, and mitsume. He also works in many fields, such as graphic design for brands and logo and website designs. He has made music as part of Faron Square and White Wear and is also one of the people who ran the indie label Cuz Me Pain, which started in the early 2010s. After making music with Jesse Ruins, which released music from the American indie label, Captured Tracks, YOKKE formed the rock band WOOMAN and released A NAME (2019) through Kilikilivilla. As such, he is still active in music.
http://yosuketsuchida.com
Twitter：@yyokke_
Twitter：@vvomanmusic
Instagram：@yyokke_

This conversation between DYGL’s frontman, Nobuki Akiyama, and designer and leader of band WOOMAN, Yosuke Tsuchida AKA YOKKE, who designed the album artwork, commemorates the release of the band’s latest album, Thirst. In the second part of their conversation, they first break down some songs from the album. Thirst embodies the band’s determined attitude to take on challenges and a new musicality. Their conversation gradually shifts to a serious topic: how they want to change society through music, respectively. I hope you can tune into and be moved by their down-to-earth yet hopeful words.

Click here for the first part

—Which song did you especially like in Thirst?

YOKKE: Hmm… The first one that comes to mind is “I Wish I Could Feel.” My impression of the song drastically changed after listening to the demo and the complete version. Once I heard the finished version, it was as if I had seen the right answer. I understood what it was they wanted to do. They used autotune in their intro-ish song on the previous album, but they fully incorporated it on “I Wish I Could Feel.” It was amazing how it was so cohesive. That song represents the album.

—DYGL uses autotune on a couple of other songs. It stood out on “Sandalwood,” too.

YOKKE: “Sandalwood” has a very strange mood. It has a guitar-based pop sound, but it also makes you go like, “What is this?” Akiyama-kun’s vocals sound incredible during the latter half of it. He sounds lonely and like he’s withering away; I’m so impressed he could vocalize like that. I also felt that how they created a groove by repeating the same phrase repeatedly in the tenth song, “The Philosophy of the Earth,” was new.

—“The Philosophy of the Earth,” which has strong trad and neo-acoustic elements, is a masterpiece.

YOKKE: I loved the last song, “Phosphorescent / Never Wait.” The structure, where two songs are connected, is interesting and reminds me of DYGL in their early days.

Nobuki Akiyama: For me, it’s clear we wanted that song to be an emo one (laughs). This is our interpretation of it. During these past two years, thanks to a friend, I had the chance to rediscover emo music again. There’s a band in that vein called ANORAK!, who I used to watch live, and they’re brilliant. They partially influenced the song. One of the things we wanted to do was express sadness and loneliness through the guitar while singing loudly. Many things informed the completion of “Phosphorescent / Never Wait.” I feel satisfied with how we put out a song that shows our new side, and I’m happy that you could still sense the elements that make us, us.

YOKKE: It has a vibe reminiscent of late 90s emo music, like The Promise Ring. The intro of “Salvation” is also emo-ish. “Phosphorescent / Never Wait” sounds amazing live. In the recorded version, they keep it contained to a certain degree, but when they play that song live, they let go; it sounds super emo. I want people to listen to that song live.

Making interesting music with bandmates you love is a blessing

—This album sounds more diverse than before.

Akiyama: A significant reason is how we can now be musically adventurous and play around with creativity. Because of my pickiness, we couldn’t play around with sounds in an uninhibited way for a long time. I changed massively after our previous album, and I have more space to breathe regarding my life and music. Because of that, I can enjoy different things more. I sometimes find myself thinking it’s a blessing to make exciting music with bandmates I love while feeling so at peace.

YOKKE: Some songs have noise effects, but it’s not apparent. I like how the noise blends in. I sensed growth in them because they could do that by themselves. As a band, everything is coming into focus for them. They sound modern but don’t follow trends; I believe DYGL’s music is universal. Whenever I design their artwork, I try to create something timeless that doesn’t make you sense a particular era. I want to make artwork that people could think is cool 50 years from now when they find it at Disc Union.

Akiyama: Right. We were conscious of words like “universal” and “timeless” around the time we made our first album. I used to use them in interviews too. That hasn’t changed, but I developed another way of thinking too. Now, I feel like it’s okay for our music to be forgotten 100 years from now. Only a handful of music from a century ago is left today. We don’t listen to it daily. Even with incredible talents like George Gershwin, his music doesn’t feel “real.” Those unfamiliar with his work will react with, “Who?” We learn about people like him in textbooks—that’s how distant it feels. Of course, it would be nice if we could make music that would last because of how it touches people, like The Beatles. However, what’s important to me are my relationships with people I’m connected to and the spirit of “How am I living my life today?” My name or music might not last, but my spirit might. My name or my band’s name—Akiyama and DYGL—might not be remembered, but my memories with other people and the feelings I fostered in my community might be passed down in an intangible way. I’ve been pondering on this recently.

—I agree.

Akiyama: Also, I believe art made by people that are opposite to those that strive for a particular universality, like those who incorporate many trends and deal with their feelings all they want, become more real at that moment, so their art could be passed down as a universal thing. So, of course, universality is something I still value, but my approach has been changing.

YOKKE: On the topic of what’s real, I want to make things that are sincere and not contrived. Stories are important, and I think about whether something is cohesive. In that sense, I can work collaboratively with DYGL, so it’s effortless.

Akiyama: Regarding our previous artworks, too, we’ve dealt with them with the same enthusiasm as our music, so we want to be involved in the making of everything DYGL-related. I’m grateful that YOKKE-san talks to us during his process.

YOKKE: We worked on the artwork from the brainstorming stage, so on the credits, it says we co-directed it. We made this together in a profound way.

—Akiyama-san, you touched on why you used a painting by Tamao Shirai-san, your childhood friend and painter, for the cover in the first part of this conversation. What about Shirai-san’s painting was appealing to you?

YOKKE: The keyword “thirst” came first. I think Akiyama-kun described the current zeitgeist, like covid, war, and people not being free and holding back, as thirst. You said something like, “The state you’re in before you get hydrated,” right?

Akiyama: The nuance of thirst—being unfulfilled—is negative in and of itself, but feeling like something is missing or that you desire something is the same as wanting to be alive. Therefore, it also means feeling very positive that you haven’t given up. If you were hopeless to the point of being desiccated, you wouldn’t be able to think you were thirsty. The title of the album and songs have such double meanings, and once we considered how we wanted the artwork to reflect that, we felt it’d be nice to have a lot of elements on the surface. As we all shared different ideas, I found her painting, which we later used for the cover. I thought it was the one.

YOKKE: At first, we thought about asking Shirai-san to paint something new, but once we adjusted the painting for the cover, we felt like there was no other option but to use it. The painting ties into the content of the album very well. It’s colorful and chaotic but has a pattern that looks like a human’s face. It has a human touch and a slight sadness. I also thought the way it’s a bit faded embodies thirst. Also, the painting is neither bright nor dark, which matches Thirst.

Hoping Tokyo will allow unnecessary things

—Lastly, how do you two want to change music culture through your work?

Akiyama: We make what you would call indie rock music, and I like music like that as a listener too. But I also don’t hate J-Pop or J-Rock. I don’t want the mainstream scene to disappear. It’s the healthiest for different people and music to coexist. Living in Japan, there aren’t a lot of opportunities to encounter various types of music and art. So much is digestible stuff made with the help of advertising agencies. Even in Tokyo, many people grow up without having the opportunity to be introduced to music and art. That’s even more common in the countryside, I assume. Many people couldn’t encounter important music or art because they didn’t have a neighborhood record store or music venue. It’s vital for all regions to have cultural places and communities. It’s common for people who would’ve loved King Krule had they been introduced to indie rock never to realize their potential for the rest of their lives.

—True. I often listen to BBC Radio at home, and they would play 80s post-punk studio live sessions that no one would know like it’s no big deal. It makes me go, “If you consume such things like air, then you’ll develop an appreciation for music; no wonder there’s always good music coming out of England.”

Akiyama: Crack Cloud from Canada, who played here the other day, is popular among a particular sector of people in Japan, but I believe more people would feel moved by their music if they had the chance to encounter them since their music is of amazing quality. If possible, I want to show their music to 100 million people (laughs). I want to emphasize my music career and also consider creating a space where people can make music and art. Western music is incredible not only because of talented individual bands but because of the system and spirit that continues to produce such music. There’s so much to learn from. There are many communities in Asia with similar energy right now, so it’d be fun to make something with them.

YOKKE: You’ve always said that. This is a personal matter, but I’m contemplating whether I could live the rest of my life making music as an indie artist. I turned 40 last year, and my daughter was born the year before. It’s painfully clear just how hard it is working, raising a child, and making music. Ryota-kun (interviewer), you probably see this too: almost no one we know who made music ten years ago is around anymore. It is what it is, but I believe a big reason comes from existing systems and environments. Creative work gets lost because of that, and I’m sure many people feel less motivated and don’t feel the need to make things even if they come up with an idea. I always think about what we could do to prevent that.

Akiyama: Young people’s values might change depending on whether they have older role models.

YOKKE: When it comes to people in their 50s, some people make music successfully, but there aren’t a lot who continue making music as an independent band. People quit making music because they can’t make money or because people are against what they do. In time, they feel like what they’re doing is a waste. But it’s not a waste if making music motivates you to do your day job or enriches your personal life. That makes me think, “I wish they could continue making music somehow.” Not bothering others with what you do is a prerequisite, though. This applies not only to music, but I wish you could choose a path other than monetization once you start doing something; I wish society could allow people to let loose and express themselves. Saying all this changes nothing, so I’m currently planning and examining ways to support other musicians and bands in my own way, aside from my band and label.

—In Japan, there’s the notion that music isn’t something you make yourself, that it’s something you receive passively. But being in a band, making music, listening, singing, and dancing are all autonomous endeavors.

Akiyama: There are both good and bad sides to different countries, but what was great about places like London and LA was how amateur music blended into the city. People there are open-minded. For instance, I would go to a pub for a drink and see a band or show that was put together there. It’s so relaxed and great. Some bands perform for fun, while others are filled with ambition. If the band’s good, they might get lucky and become successful. Even if that’s not the case, your life would feel richer if friends and strangers could dance to your songs for one night. I admire how they have everyday environments with dreams and something like romance amid all the randomness and casualness.

That’s hard to establish in Japan—especially in Tokyo. Property is expensive, and the population is big, so I feel like Tokyo is a city with no room to waste. The city is designed in a consumerist way, so the city’s attitude of “Please go home once you’re done with your errands” comes across so strongly. When you look at Shibuya, you’ll see that there are fewer and fewer spaces for homeless people. Tokyo’s attitude is: go home if you have no business being here. Also, people in Japan are strict regarding the line between professional and amateur people, considering the pub story I just told you. People laugh at “self-proclaimed musicians.” London and LA have awful things about them, but it was nice that both cities had many unnecessary things despite being big cities. There were a lot of adults just hanging out during the day. Also, some people could appreciate amateur musicians’ and artists’ qualities. That makes those societies great, and a good culture is born easier there because of those extra spaces. Tokyo is tough, but it’s also an important city for me, so I always wonder how we can do what we want here.

■US TOUR in March
3/21 Tue The Coast in Fort Collins
3/22 Wed The DLC in Salt Lake City
3/24 Fri Treefort Fest 2023 in Boise
3/25 Sat Vera in Seattle
3/27 Mon Polaris Hall in Portland
3/29 Wed Cafe Du Nord in San Francisco
3/30 Thu Wayfarer in Costa Mesa
3/31 Fri Lodge Room in LA
https://dayglotheband.com/

■DYGL 4th Album『Thirst』
Price：¥2,750
1.Your Life
2.Under My Skin
3.I Wish I Could Feel
4.Road
5.Sandalwood
6.Loaded Gun
7.Salvation
8.Dazzling
9.Euphoria
10.The Philosophy of the Earth
11.Phosphorescent / Never Wait
https://dygl.lnk.to/ThirstID

Translation Lena Grace Suda
Photography Hironori Sakunaga

The post A Conversation Between Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) and Artist Yosuke Tsuchida—Part 2: Music Culture and Japanese Society appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

A Conversation Between Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) and Artist Yosuke Tsuchida—Part 1: Making Music Organically and Sounding the Best

田中亮太 — Fri, 03 Mar 2023 06:00:00 +0000

（L→R）Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) 、 Artist Yosuke Tsuchida

DYGL
DYGL is a four-piece, guitar-based rock band comprised of Nobuki Akiyama (guitar/vocals), Yotaro Kachi (bass), Yosuke Shimonaka (guitar), and Kohei Kamoto (drums/guitar). They formed the band in 2012 as part of an after-school club in university and have stayed in countries like US and England for long periods. All of their songs are in English. Their first album, Say Goodbye to Memory Den (2017), was produced by Albert Hammond Jr. (The Strokes) and garnered attention from many media outlets in and out of the country as an exciting indie rock band. They released their second album, Songs of Innocence & Experience, in 2019. They had a successful six-month album tour spanning 53 cities worldwide; they had sold-out shows not only in Japan but also in Beijing, Shanghai, and New York. In 2021, DYGL released their third album, A DAZE IN A HAZE, and Thirst, their fourth album, in 2022.Kicking off with their show on January 20th, 2023, in Tokyo, the band is going on a 12-show Japan tour. Further, they’re going on their US tour in March.
https://dayglotheband.com
Twitter：@dayglotheband
Instagram：@dayglotheband
YouTube：@DYGL

YOSUKE TSUCHIDA （YOKKE）
Born in Kyoto. Yosuke Tsuchida, AKA YOKKE, mainly designs and directs album covers, such as those by DYGL, NOT WONK, and mitsume. He also works in many fields, such as graphic design for brands and logo and website designs. He has made music as part of Faron Square and White Wear and is also one of the people who ran the indie label Cuz Me Pain, which started in the early 2010s. After making music with Jesse Ruins, which released music from the American indie label, Captured Tracks, YOKKE formed the rock band WOOMAN and released A NAME (2019) through Kilikilivilla. As such, he is still active in music.
http://yosuketsuchida.com
Twitter：@yyokke_
Twitter：@vvomanmusic
Instagram：@yyokke_

DYGL released their fourth album, Thirst, in December 2022. The album, which the band produced entirely on their own for the first time, still retains the elements that make DYGL appealing, such as their anthemic melodies and the fact that they’re a solid four-piece ensemble. Simultaneously, their sound is more diverse than ever, as shown in their vocalizations using autotune and compositions based on emo and post-hardcore music. Amid DYGL’s ever-growing evolution, they’ve firmly cemented their present juncture with Thirst.

Yosuke Tsuchida, AKA YOKKE, who understood the band from long ago and has designed the band’s artwork countless times, designed the artwork for Thirst. As a designer, he’s been involved in many albums, like those by NOT WONK, mitsume, and Aimyon. He’s also known as a musician and was a part of Faron Square and Jesse Ruins in the early 2010s. Along with Cuz Me Pain, a label of which he was one of the masterminds, he garnered worldwide acclaim within the indie scene at the height of chillwave. Currently, YOKKE is the frontman of WOOMAN and runs the label Herheads. He’s breathing new life into the indie scene as he enthusiastically engages with young bands.

In two parts, we present a two-hour conversation between the frontman of DYGL, Nobuki Akiyama, and YOKKE. In the first half, the two look back on how they first met, the differences between their respective generations, and the changes they underwent in making Thirst.

2012: the year Akiyama and YOKKE met

—I heard you started asking YOKKE-san to design your band’s artwork in 2017 when you made a split cassette tape with Only Real for your live show with him. Did you two know each other before that point?

YOKKE: We met each other before then, which was around 2012. I think Akiyama-kun was around 19. Su-san from Rhyming Slang and art director Masatoo Hirano-san ran an event called Rewind Tapes at Edge End in Shibuya at the time. I used to semi-regularly DJ at their event. Su-san introduced me to Akiyama-kun, saying, “He’s in a band.”

Nobuki Akiyama: We used to make music as Ykiki Beat, which we formed as part of an after-school club at Meiji Gakuin University. We didn’t have a lot of friends to chat about indie rock with, which we love, and in high school, even if the bands we were respectively in got booked by a music venue, they would take a fee of 20,000 to 30,000 yen. We talked about how each of our bands split up with nothing left and that doing the same would be boring. When we discussed what we should do, (Yotaro) Kachi-kun was like, “There’s someone who makes interesting music in Japan,” and showed me music by Faron Square, which YOKKE-san was in.

YOKKE: Thank you (laughs).

Akiyama: Around the same time, I listened to a mix that Yume-san, a DJ, posted on SoundCloud and thought, “I didn’t know there were people in Japan who like music like this.” I sent them a message on Twitter because I felt I could learn something by getting in touch with people like them. Then, Yume-san decided to come to our show. They brought Su-san and Yuta Sekiyama-san (who later directed a music video for Ykiki Beat). Yume-san complimented my band and asked if I wanted to attend one of their parties. So, I went to Echo, which used to be in Shibuya, and got introduced to YOKKE-san there. As we started talking, I realized he was from Faron Square. I was like, “Wow, they know each other!” It was surprising. I also met other people that day, which gradually led to bigger things. And here we are today.

YOKKE: He told me he was in a band called Ykiki Beat, so I listened to their music on SoundCloud afterward. It was a demo with a recorded-at-home and rough-around-the-edges touch, but it still sounded complete at that point. I was impressed. I still remember watching Akiyama-kun’s acoustic show at Rewind Tapes after that, and I felt like a young person from a new generation had arrived. My first impression was, “He can sing and is good at speaking English; this is a talented person.”

—Have you ever seen Faron Square’s show, Akiyama-san?

YOKKE: No. We stopped playing together as Faron Square right around the time we met. I joined Jesse Ruins and The Beauty after that.

Akiyama: I didn’t have the chance to see The Beauty live, but I went to Jesse Ruins’ shows several times. We started hanging out with each other once we became acquainted. It was fun talking to older people who played in cool bands, like Sakuma-san from Jesse Ruins and YOKKE-san.

YOKKE: We were like, “Wow, this younger guy is one to watch.” Sakuma and I talked about how we couldn’t leave Cuz Me Pain sitting around and that we had to do better (laughs). A label/collective called CONDOMINIMUM came out around 2014 to 2015, and it had artists like DYGL, Batman Winks, Cairophenomenons, and Yüksen Buyers House.

Working with the international stage in mind

—YOKKE-san, did you see any generational differences between the artists from Cuz Me Pain and CONDOMINIMUM?

YOKKE: We were focused on releasing music abroad; to put it simply, we were truly like Japanese comedians who only strived to win competitions and nothing else (laughs). At the time, it felt like other people wouldn’t have recognized us if we didn’t take that position. People we knew also thought they had to do something a bit out there. But it looked like the CONDOMINIMUM kids genuinely enjoyed making music and were trying to do something fun together.

Akiyama: We also wanted to [work] internationally, but I had the impression that Cuz Me Pain had an air that was very different from artists I knew from the Japanese music scene. Cuz Me Pain artists leaned towards DIY recordings and electronic music, so I feel like that’s where the differences start.

YOKKE: One major factor is that we initially used to buy loads of records to DJ. We were DJs first and formed bands to make music as an extension of that. It never felt like we were only making music as bands.

Akiyama: Cuz Me Pain had that coolness, which is why I also thought it would be hard for them to be recognized in the country.

—It was like Cuz Me Pain was on the extreme end of indie music, and it was a bit hard to approach you all.

YOKKE: We were edgy. But everyone was like that back then. We weren’t on bad terms with musicians our age, but people were under the impression that we didn’t like each other (laughs). I mean, we always had an underground feel to us, though.

Akiyama: Now, that was cool. I was impressed by how they had that approach despite being based in Japan. I feel this massive energy from edgy young people in places like Taipei and Thailand. I also sensed that edgy vibe that crosses national borders from Cuz Me Pain. But our generation is simpler, and most artists are more approachable and easier to listen to. We sing earnestly and whatnot. But unless we sharpen our musical expression, it’d be hard for our music to reach audiences abroad. I still feel that way. Cuz Me Pain checked off that box from the start, and it also seemed like there was a communal spirit within the team, even though the artists were kind of solo. It was a mysterious community that I thought was cool.

—I do think a certain kind of extremeness makes it easier for listeners from abroad to take notice.

YOKKE: Rather than thinking about how we could present ourselves to audiences abroad, we felt we had to make music that would surprise artists we listened to daily. We believed we shouldn’t admire them. Cuz Me Pain artists all shared that mentality.

Akiyama: I strongly agree with that. Not to compare this to the Japan versus Germany game at the World Cup that happened recently, but if you make music intending to defeat the opponent, you will get better results since there’s a level playing field. In Japan, the categories of “Japanese music” and “foreign music” are still strongly ingrained, and some people can’t fully express their creativity because of that. Surprisingly, across the ocean, people don’t care about that; if they listen to our music, they tell us so. Since I was a teenager, I’ve wanted to eliminate that barrier—the tendency to put music and bands from abroad in a “foreign” box—as much as possible. I want to make music and view all music equally.

YOKKE: You studied English seriously in middle school to make music on par with bands from other countries, right?

Akiyama: Right. When I was into bands like The View and Arctic Monkeys, I was like, “If these guys are making music this cool at this age, I want to too.” Rather than being good or bad at English to make music of that caliber, what was important was being able to write extraordinary lyrics. I needed to sing in English naturally. I decided I would make music for the rest of my life no matter what, so I had to learn to think about what I was expressing, not just the English language itself, as fast as possible. Everything in my life was about English because I had to reach that level and quickly stand at the start line.

YOKKE: It’s amazing how you set Arctic Monkeys as your goal and tried to surpass them. We strived to be like artists who made lofi music that we felt we could beat (laughs). I thought, “There’s no way we could be like Arctic Monkeys. We can’t become a band that could make a debut album as perfect as theirs.” I think that was the big difference [between Akiyama and me].

The artwork of Thirst

—Let’s start getting into the topic of Thirst. Why did you ask YOKKE-san to design the cover art for the first time since your first album?

Akiyama: We recorded our first and second albums abroad, but it was inevitable for us to record our previous album in Japan because of Covid and all. That affected the band in a good way, so we decided to do the same for this album. We had a tough time because our band was a mess right before and after our second album. Covid itself isn’t good at all, but it was nice how we could settle down for a moment and focus on our lives and making music. A weight was lifted off my shoulders. The band’s air became very light, and we decided to produce this album ourselves because we felt confident, which we cultivated from our experiences. Come to think of it, the more we make our albums, the more locally we record them (laughs).

YOKKE: True.

Akiyama: We made this album as if we were chatting in a clubroom at university when we formed a band together. When we considered the music we made in that setting, we felt it would be hard to ask someone in a different country, who we’d never met, to mix and master the album. We were like, “Who should we ask?” Then I remembered seeing on Instagram that Stephanie (Loza), a friend I made in LA, became an audio engineer. I listened to tracks she engineered, which were good, so I asked her to do it. In terms of design, we were like, “Don’t we want someone who understands us well?” And we landed on YOKKE-san. Tamao Shirai, who made the oil painting on the cover, is actually a former classmate from elementary school. It was great working with a team who knew everybody’s faces and personalities. It was such a blessing to bring ideas to life with people I could trust.

YOKKE: Before their latest album, I worked with DYGL for the first time in a long time for their single, “Waves.” They came to my workplace, and we worked together. It was so much fun. That experience reaffirmed that there are infinite possibilities, no right or wrong in art, and meeting others to communicate to make something is very important.

—What did you think after listening to Thirst upon working on the artwork, YOKKE-san?

YOKKE: I got sent a demo with around 20 songs, which included songs that didn’t make it on the album, and I thought it sounded cooler compared to the rest of their discography. I don’t mean that negatively. It had a cool tone; it was just the right temperature to listen to. One of the appeals of DYGL’s music is their passion, so I sensed a change in them.

Akiyama: We didn’t mean to go for that coolness. How can I say this—we tried to figure out how we could access the listener’s feelings rather than hyping them up in an obvious way. In hindsight, until now, my lack of confidence in myself connected to the overt passion [in our music]. But through making the album, I got a glimpse of making music I’d want to listen to more by taking a different approach from before. I felt at ease because I wasn’t trying too hard.

YOKKE: Even if the album seems mature on the surface, I’m sure it’s packed with this internal sense of passion.

—Did your ability to change your approach have anything to do with how the morale within the band improved?

Akiyama: I think so. I mean, for sure (laughs). Our ability to trust each other’s ideas and processes is the accumulation of our experiences and communication. In the past, I would get insecure and go ahead and make songs by myself. I can see my bandmates’ good qualities much more than before. Now, instead of rushing things, we can take our time to talk about what we want to do as a band. Of course, I don’t think we’re perfect right now, but we communicate more than before and make music in a relaxed way. It surprises me to think about how we were like a while ago; I can’t believe we could change this much. Around our second album, we were at a loss and depressed. We were like, “What should we do?” (laughs). Today, we’re in a good place and can try what we want among many different options.

—Whenever you make an album, do you exchange ideas like, “Let’s make this album like so-and-so”?

Akiyama: We sometimes talk about it, but we try to avoid getting into specifics and end up limiting the possibilities. DYGL is embodied by each of us bringing what we like and putting that together organically. I couldn’t think that way just a little while ago and would often instruct and commission my bandmates. But if I wanted to execute my vision flawlessly, I could make music on my own. A significant factor was starting a side project called Deadbeat Painters with Cony Plankton of TAWINGS. It was so good for my mental health to learn to be okay with taking songs that didn’t match DYGL elsewhere. I feel so at ease now. As DYGL, we sound best when we’re together and make music organically. I can take less of a lead and lean on everyone else’s strengths.

■DYGL 『Thirst』
Price：¥2,750
1.Your Life
2.Under My Skin
3.I Wish I Could Feel
4.Road
5.Sandalwood
6.Loaded Gun
7.Salvation
8.Dazzling
9.Euphoria
10.The Philosophy of the Earth
11.Phosphorescent / Never Wait
https://dygl.lnk.to/ThirstID

Translation Lena Grace Suda
Photography Hironori Sakunaga

The post A Conversation Between Nobuki Akiyama (DYGL) and Artist Yosuke Tsuchida—Part 1: Making Music Organically and Sounding the Best　 appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.