Japanese composer and pianist Ryuichi Sakamoto left behind an incredible body of work when he passed away in 2023, but few pieces capture his gift for emotional restraint as powerfully as “Bibo No Aozora.” The piece’s remarkable sense of space and melody cemented it as one of his most beloved and recognized works. Today, we’ll be examining the song and what makes it so moving.
The Origins and Evolution of “Bibo No Aozora”
Sakamoto’s musical path was as unique as it was trailblazing. He began on the piano as a toddler and studied classical and modern music. After studying ethnomusicology, he joined the proto-synthpop group Yellow Magic Orchestra, which pioneered electronic music in the ’70s. He went solo, keeping the electronic instrumentation and fusing genres for years before entering the world of classical impressionism. As his official biography explains, “Many times over Sakamoto’s sonic path has leapt forward then looped back on itself, forever telling the present something of both its past and future.”
“Bibo No Aozora,” which translates to “Beauty of a Blue Sky,” was originally released in Japan in 1995 on his album Smoochy. The album, and subsequently the song, was an “excursion into the land of easy‑listening and Latin,” as Sound on Sound explains.
It was then re-recorded for his album 1996, which reimagined his compositions in the piano trio format with cello and violin. This intimate arrangement became the predominant version of the song when director Alejandro González Iñárritu used it in the gripping final scene of his 2006 film, Babel. Sakamoto would later rework it into a solo piano piece, as well.
Watch an early take on the song with this video taken from the DVD “Ryuichi Sakamoto Trio World Tour 1996,” in which the pianist is joined by cellist Jaques Morelenbaum and violinist Everton Nelson.
Ryuichi Sakamoto’s “Bibo No Aozora” Harmonic Analysis
The trio arrangement of “Bibo No Aozora” begins with the cello and violin setting the mood. They play repeated thirds in harmony, creating dyads of A and C, then C and E. Together, they create an A minor sonority.
The piano enters on an A minor chord that quickly walks down to FMaj7, then down again to Dmin9. What’s striking is that the chord changes broaden the harmony with little change.
The notes in A minor (A-C-E) are all found in FMaj7: F-A-C-E. Keep the same notes and add a D in the bass, and it becomes Dmin9: D-F-A-C-E. Expanding on the existing harmony deepens its emotional impact, as if representing someone dwelling on one idea longer and longer.
The strings serve as a steady heartbeat compared to the sparse, sustained piano lines. They maintain the momentum while Sakamoto gives listeners time to absorb every note he plays. His compositional prowess shines when the strings finally open up, moving from dyads to extended arpeggios. The ten-note pattern repeats, but lands in different parts of each measure to keep the texture changing.
After exploring the main theme for some time, each player improvises, and their approaches can be quite dissonant. The idea of being open to fresh ideas is key to Sakamoto’s process.
“You have to open your ears all the time because anything could happen unexpectedly,” he has said of his approach. “Anything can be music.”
