X back next

The soundtrack for X, an animated film by Rintaro, also known for Galaxy Express 999. During the recordings Shimizu remarked that he was creating sound "so scary that it'll make kids jump out of their seats."

1996 (CD)
Victor Entertainment VICL-788
1. Intoxicating blossoms
2. May be it wept
3. On returning
4. Domino fallout
5. Glass planet
6. Domino fallout II
7. Ephemeral love
8. Zuzun! Zuzun!
9. Domino fallout III
10. Tokyo transfigured
11. It had to be so
12. Hinoto the wizard
13. If only I were closer....
14. We were three
15. Domino fallout IV
16. Love and hate
17. Domino fallout V
18. Fuma clashes with Kamui
19. Death of Ten No Ryu
20. Something strange  
21. Tragedy: movement 1
22. Tragedy: movement 2
23. Tragedy: movement 3


Composed and produced by Yasuaki Shimizu

Yasuaki Shimizu: saxophone, clarinet, voice, sequencers, keyboards
Yuichiro Goto: violin (3, 7)

Recorded by Yasuaki Shimizu at Sateto (Tokyo)
Recorded by Shinji Kano at Pathway, mixed at Victor Aoyama (Tokyo)


YS notes
Lately I've been addicted to scary music. By "scary music" I don't mean horror-movie music, but something more like the feeling of running headlong through dense forest. It has a constant feeling to it; time lends it no narrative structure. Just as I was thinking I'd like to make that kind of music, the X proposition appeared at my door.
It was Rintaro who sensed that this was a movie that I could do—because it had "the feeling of rushing headlong through dense forest." He intentionally made the theme clearly and simply "tragedy," but while it appears that that is all there is to the story, extraordinary things are actually happening behind the scenes. At the end of the film, words like "love" break down completely—to hell with love, tragedy and all.

Liner notes
Mixing Room 202
Strange machines set in an uniformly black cockpit
wait for the sorcerer's command in ominous silence...
At the center of the room, vibrant color-coded data
is being fed into a single Mac...
The sound of the sorcerer's supple fingers tapping the keyboard
runs on quietly...
"OK, let's go..."
The sorcerer's voice gently sounds,
with the utmost care, as if trying not to break the silence.
The previously silent machines begin to murmur in unison.
Sound flowing from a giant speaker fills the cockpit.
I am slowly being dragged into a strange space.
Undulating destruction and creation...
Eros and Thanatos hang in the air...
Solid ecstasy...
The sound the sorcerer makes fits X like skin—"neo-decadent" music
(if there's such a word).
The more you listen to the sorcerer's subtly flavored sounds
inset here and there, the more comfortable you become.
I start to wonder... is it really all right to be listening to such pleasant music
while Tokyo is sinking into oblivion?
Why do I desire this predictably "ominous" pattern? Really.
Aha! This is sorcerer Yasuaki Shimizu's truly subtle flavor!
(I only just realized this while writing these words, Mr. Shimizu...)
In reality, music doesn't need superfluous interpretation.
You merely have to surrender wholeheartedly to the sound.
That is the best way to listen to music. Yes.
In my next life, I'm definitely going to be a composer!
— Rintaro, film animation director