In moments alone, reading at the kitchen table or laying on the couch, my mind wanders and I tune into the little domestic drones around me: the hum of the fridge, the downstairs heater’s muffled whirr, the murmuring ceiling fan in the bathroom. It would be a stretch to call them an “orchestra of appliances.” None of them are in tune with one another. They share the space, executing their task as quietly as they can, their little voices encroaching over thresholds or through floors into other rooms. For as often as I put his cassettes into the tape deck in the living room, I count the work of Hakobune among this set of domestic drones. With the volume cranked, his music manages to fill the room to its corners without disrupting its quietude. With the volume low, the tape deck whispers at the same level as the vent behind the shelving unit.
Since 2007, Takahiro Yorifuji has blessed us with 15 and a half hours of slow-churning guitar dronescapes as Hakobune, spanning 30 physical releases for over 20 labels including Constellation Tatsu, Fabrica, and Cassauna. With the recent release of Watching the Prescribed Burn on CD and Bandcamp via Italian micro-label Pure Wave Recordings, we’re only seven-and-a-half hours of material away from the possibility of a Whole Day of Hakobune. Imagine with me: at midnight, your Walkman clicks on and Yorifuji’s delay-smeared chords collude as you fall asleep; breakfast takes on a hushed reverence as the juicer burbles; at laundry time, each machine rumbles alongside Hakobune in a different register; back at midnight, the day’s sounds sustain in your mind as clearly as the space heater’s persisting drone after the last tape ends.