On 'For Every Voice That Never Sang,' Kishi Bashi Is Confident For A Changing World Kishi Bashi reflects on the Asian American experience and the pain of pursuing acceptance in his Morning Edition Song Project entry, "For Every Voice That Never Sang."

On 'For Every Voice That Never Sang,' Kishi Bashi Is Confident For A Changing World

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It's time for the MORNING EDITION Song Project. We've been asking artists to write original songs during the pandemic. And today, Kaoru Ishibashi. He performs as Kishi Bashi. He's Asian American. And he composed a piece about the feeling of being an outsider in his own country, which, to him, feels like unrequited love. The song is called "For Every Voice That Never Sang."


KISHI BASHI: (Singing) I had a moment with you. Our second passed - nothing more you cared to view. I heard the sound of your sigh. I was nothing to you.

MARTIN: The pandemic gave Kaoru a lot of time to reflect, so did the cross-country road trip he took with his daughter.

KISHI BASHI: Yeah. I have this camper that was barely used because I was touring so much. So I did this whole entire trip from Athens, Ga., and all the way to the West Coast and went through the mountains and took my daughter.

MARTIN: Did you name your camper?

KISHI BASHI: I think I called it Knight Rider for a little bit. But my daughter didn't get the reference. So...


KISHI BASHI: So it didn't stick. So no, it's still to be named.

MARTIN: I mean, the American West happens to also have a lot of history in it, right? You've been putting together this documentary about the Japanese American experience. I mean, obviously, the Western United States was peppered with these internment camps for Japanese Americans at the time. Did you talk about any of that on the trip?

KISHI BASHI: Yeah. I mean, she's well aware of Japanese American incarceration. But...

MARTIN: How old is she?

KISHI BASHI: She's 15.


KISHI BASHI: But one of the things I did is kind of look through - we follow a lot of indigenous tribal history - kind of talked about, like, settler colonialism and that kind of thing as we drove westward, our own manifest destiny.

MARTIN: Kaoru's parents were post-war immigrants from Japan. It's taken him a while. But over the years, he's grown more secure in expressing those origins in his music, like in this song, "Theme From Jerome," about a World War II-era prison camp in Arkansas.


KISHI BASHI: (Singing) And when they sleep, she'd sing this melody to her beloved sons - forgotten words from Japan.

MARTIN: Kaoru says you can't really understand the current rise in anti-Asian hate in this country unless you acknowledge that history. And the separation Asian Americans feel now is not new.

KISHI BASHI: If you're not a part of the dominant culture, then you're always on the outside. So at times, you know, you could feel included. Like, NPR can ask you to write a song for them, you know (laughter)? But at other times, you know, I'm still afraid to walk into, like, a full bar of drunk people just because I know that one thing they can say to me might set me back, remind me of my place in society.

MARTIN: Have you thought about how that fits into the larger racial reckoning in this country right now as an Asian American?

KISHI BASHI: I think being an Asian American is a very complicated place in the racial hierarchy. So it's difficult for me to fully accept Asian hate because at the core, I'm thinking to myself, what do I have to complain about? I'm still safe. But, you know, when it comes to violence, that's when I start to realize these aren't just words. When you normalize, like, hate speech, when that becomes something that, you know, like, your president says, that allows really awful people to take a step further.

MARTIN: When we called you a month ago about writing a song for us, it was right after the mass shooting in Atlanta that killed six people of Asian descent.


MARTIN: Atlanta's - what? - I mean, it's not that far from where you are in Athens, right?

KISHI BASHI: Yeah. It's right - it's, like, an hour. It's right around the corner.

MARTIN: How did you and your family - you're married. You've got a daughter. How did you all absorb that?

KISHI BASHI: You know, I was really horrified. And then I realized, I think my perspective as an Asian male in this country is different than an Asian female. You know, I felt unqualified to talk about Asian hate because I'm a male. I think Asian females really are vulnerable especially. And they see a lot of this, too. My wife tells me, you know, she's heard things. I haven't really heard anything personally.

MARTIN: Right. So you put together this song. Tell me about it.

KISHI BASHI: So "For Every Voice That Never Sang," it's about being on the outside of society, but also being on the outside of love.


KISHI BASHI: (Singing) I could've laughed at it all. I had nothing more, not a cave in which to crawl. I took it all to the race. And I bet it on you.

When you're pining for somebody's attention, it's just as painful as trying to become accepted in your community or in your society. And I think this song is a way to encourage people to kind of, you know, keep your chin up because the world is changing.


KISHI BASHI: (Singing) As I paused for a second to remember the very words - I had written them with symbols from a memory that occurred. There is a time, there is a place for us, for every voice that never sang, for everyone I trust.

The original file name for the song is called "Violin Arpeggio." And I really started by playing just what came to my fingers. I also got my friend, Emily Hope Price, who's a wonderful cellist, to just send me a lot of cello. And it turned into this wonderful, huge sound.


MARTIN: How did you think about balancing lyrically the pain, the longing, that you're trying to capture from the minority experience and a sense of optimism?

KISHI BASHI: I think the sense of optimism is something that I've always tried to inject into my music because when you think about minority identity, you could go to town on how painful it is. But a lot of people want to get out of that pain. They want things to heal them. So, you know, there's this statistic that I've really held onto. And it kind of shaped my world view. And it's like, you know, 50% of all school-aged children are people of color now. That means that the society of the future will be very, very different than what we see now. So I try to remind that to people, especially, like, younger people, who are really, really distraught, who think, like, the world is ending. It's not. It's, like, kind of just beginning.

MARTIN: At the end of the song, you say, can't wait for when the world can be a better place with countless hours to embrace with you.

KISHI BASHI: Yeah. It gets a little romantic at the end but (laughter), yeah, that's it.

MARTIN: (Laughter).

KISHI BASHI: But I hope you get the feeling.

MARTIN: Yeah. The song is called "For Every Voice That Never Sang," Kaoru Ishibashi, also known as Kishi Bashi. Thank you so much for talking with us about it.

KISHI BASHI: Thank you. Thanks for having me.


KISHI BASHI: (Singing) Can't wait for when the world can be a better place...

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