Between the mountains of her Japanese childhood and the creative freedom of France, Yuka Okazaki weaves intimate and universal music, where clarinet, metallophone and electronic textures become the voice of an inner world in motion. A solitary artist on stage but surrounded by an invisible orchestra that she builds live, she invites us on a journey to her ‘Blue Lake’ – a dreamlike landscape where sound awakens the most intimate memories. Ahead of her appearance at WOMADelaide 2026, we met the woman who, with a single breath, brings two cultures and an infinite range of emotions to life.
You were born in Japan, surrounded by mountains and Japanese culture, and then moved to France in 1987. How do these two worlds coexist in your music today?
Yes, I was born in Japan surrounded by mountains, which were my playground, with no cinema, theatre or concert hall. My influences come from nature, with which I was in constant contact, and its natural sounds, which enrich and nourish my compositions.
When I was little, traditional Japanese culture was present in our daily life at home. I remember, for example, that my grandfather and mother sang songs from Noh theatre [the oldest form of classical Japanese theatre] every morning. At home, my mother organised classes in traditional dance, ikebana (Japanese floral art) and sado (the art of tea). But also lessons in traditional instruments such as the koto and shamisen. That’s how I later started learning the koto myself. We also had piano lessons at home. I was immersed in traditional Japanese culture throughout my childhood.
When I arrived in France, I got to know quite a few dancers. The trend at the time was new age music. It was during this period that I saw my first contemporary dance performances, which fascinated me. We are given the space to escape into our dreams. Through their abstract creations, the audience is taken on a journey of the imagination. This made me want to compose and create my own musical universe and also to collaborate with other artistic expressions.
I hold on to Japan’s sounds, folklore and discipline. France has given me freedom, experimentation and open-mindedness.
I hold on to Japan’s sounds, folklore and discipline. France has given me freedom, experimentation and open-mindedness.
You began playing the clarinet in middle school. Do you remember what first attracted you to that instrument in particular?
In Japan, starting in secondary school, there are sports and arts activities after the school day. I chose the wind orchestra club.
My father recommended the clarinet to me, and I really liked the round, melodic sound of the wood. My curiosity drove me to learn this instrument.
Later, you studied classical clarinet with Jacques Lancelot. What is the most important thing that this classical training left in your playing, even when you are exploring very personal, experimental music?
When I was studying the clarinet in private lessons at the age of 15, my teacher encouraged me to enter competitions. It was in masterclasses that I first met Jacques Lancelot. I really liked his approach to the clarinet, and that’s how I came to France.
For Jacques Lancelot, you have to immerse yourself completely in the music, interpret it accurately and simply, and not overplay it. Today, in order to convey authentic emotions, I still follow his principles. He used to say to play the clarinet as if it were a violin or a cello.
He is a great clarinettist and a great teacher. I learned a lot about the technique of the instrument and loved the scales and exercises with him. I played these exercises as if they were real pieces. When I heard him play Mozart’s piece, it was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes. That’s what he taught me: the accuracy needed to play the clarinet correctly.
When I heard him play Mozart’s piece, it was so beautiful, it brought tears to my eyes.
On stage you are alone, yet what you do is described as playing your own symphony. How do you build that orchestral feeling with just one person and several instruments?
The clarinet is a monophonic instrument, and I always wanted to play like a piano, which can play 10 notes at once. I often compare writers to conductors, who direct characters like instruments in various stories and eras.
When composing, I wanted to bring stories to life for the audience and take them on a journey, like my own conductor. So I set out to create my own personal symphony. When I discovered the looper 20 years ago, I started using it so that I could play several parts with different instruments, repeating them, overdubbing, harmonising, deleting parts, etc., gradually drawing the audience into a whole new world.
I like the idea of starting with a small sound, a simple instrument, and building tension by adding new melodies. This growing crescendo creates suspense and curiosity, without rushing, to develop a universe and its story.
I often compare writers to conductors, who direct characters like instruments in various stories and eras
Clarinet, bass clarinet, metallophone, percussion, melodica… what made you choose this particular family of instruments, and what role does each one play in your musical language?
You should know that I am someone who is realistic, resourceful and creative. I often travel alone, so the portability of my instruments is essential. My stage has been built up little by little.
My main instruments are the clarinet and bass clarinet, which allow me to express my most intimate emotions. As for the other instruments, I wanted them to fit in my suitcase so that I could travel easily. I wanted to have a drum on stage, which I replaced with a water bottle with an effect. Before a concert, I sometimes collect pebbles and put them in a glass or plastic bottle to make a percussion instrument to use in my performance. I like this living aspect.
The metallophone often appears in my music, representing the space of memory, the inner voice, sometimes the present, the path of life that continues… The melodica is lighter, it is the joy of the piece. With its harmonies, the possibilities are more varied, it is often present at the end as the beginning of a renewal. The bass clarinet plays a rhythmic role, and I also use it as a percussion instrument. It is powerful and strong because it can go quite low. I am still experimenting with this instrument, exploring its wide range of sounds. Like the clarinet, it sometimes represents my voice, a word.
The metallophone often appears in my music, representing the space of memory, the inner voice, sometimes the present, the path of life that continues…
When you combine classical and electronic instruments, do you feel you’re creating a unique world or atmosphere in your music? If so, what does that world feel like to you from the inside?
The use of technology with loopers and effects gives me more possibilities to create different textures, sounds and atmospheres. While retaining the original imprint of the instruments, I seek to intrigue or disorient audiences, to open up our imagination.
I develop a personal sound universe using both classical and electronic instruments. My melodies resonate with my history and emotions. We all have different sensibilities and stories, which is why the universe I develop is unique to each individual, free to interpret.
When you start a new piece, do you begin with a sound, a rhythm, a mood, a melody, or perhaps an image in your mind?
The starting point for a composition can vary; I often begin with an image, a mood, or emotions. First, either rhythms with the clarinet or bass clarinet emerge, or a soundscape takes shape. On this foundation, the melody is added, like words.
The starting point for a composition can vary; I often begin with an image, a mood, or emotions.
Your instrumental compositions have evocative titles like La boxeuse or Vers le lac bleu. Do these titles reflect a specific story or image in your mind, or are they more open suggestions for the listener’s imagination?
Yes, exactly, I have my stories and a clear image in my mind for these two tracks. But the progression of the song and the story it tells, without words, leaves it up to the listener to imagine.
I named this track ‘La boxeuse’ after composing it. The name came to me after seeing my daughter fight for the first time. Backstage, she was warming up, focused, preparing herself physically and mentally. Then I saw her step into the ring, the fight, the glory or defeat, but always the effort. I thought to myself that these words perfectly reflected what I wanted to convey in my song. She opened my eyes to a world I didn’t know yet, where you recognise the same discipline and respect for your art and for others that I know in the world of music.
‘Vers le Lac Bleu’ (“Towards the blue lake”) is the name of my first EP and one of the tracks on it. Le Lac Bleu (“The Blue Lake”) is a dream location. It’s the path to that blue lake that I wrote about.
Your pieces use a rich palette of sounds. How do you decide which instruments or textures belong in a piece and which ones you leave out?
I do not use string instruments, guitars or basses. My compositions are based on wind instruments, inspired by the wind and air; all wind instruments are essential to me. They convey my emotions most accurately.
My compositions are based on wind instruments, inspired by the wind and air; all wind instruments are essential to me. They convey my emotions most accurately.
Is there a particular instrument or sound source that feels most like “home” for you when you create?
The clarinet and base clarinet are my first instruments, my refuges. Almost as if they were me.
How much of your music is carefully planned, and how much comes from improvisation or experimentation in the moment?
When I create a piece, I improvise and experiment, I write them down, then I choose the most interesting parts and rework them to put them in order, then I write.
All the songs are written down, and in concert I try to stick to what I’ve decided. Of course, I leave room for improvisation, and sometimes these live improvisations can lead to more interesting moments, so I rewrite and transform the song for the next concert. I’m constantly looking for ways to improve.
When you perform in different countries, do you notice differences in how audiences connect with your music?
I don’t think it’s any different. My music is universal; it touches each person with their own sensitivity, regardless of their country of origin. I don’t notice any significant difference in their perception except in the way they react and communicate. In some countries, I notice that they come up to me more often to tell me how they feel, while in others, due to their culture, they keep it to themselves. We all have our own way of communicating, based on our education or culture, but I think emotions are universal to humans.
My music is universal; it touches each person with their own sensitivity, regardless of their country of origin
You describe Vers Le Lac Bleu as an invitation to travel to a personal faraway landscape. What landscapes—real or imagined—were you seeing when you composed it?
Yes, when I was composing it, I had landscapes and colours etc. in mind…
The journey I describe is the journey of our lives. The Blue Lake is a dream location. A long path, I crossed the forest, the rocks and rivers, the sun and rain, the wind caressed my cheek… It is an intimate story. About imaginary landscapes.
Everyone, with their own story, is invited to travel in their own intimate universe with their own imaginary landscapes.
The Blue Lake is a dream location. A long path, I crossed the forest, the rocks and rivers, the sun and rain, the wind caressed my cheek…
You say this EP is meant to awaken the senses and vibrate intimate memories. Have listeners ever shared memories that your music brought back for them?
Yes. I remember the audience’s reactions after the performance in Riga. Many people came up to me to share their feelings and reminisce about their memories.
Here are some messages I received from listeners:
‘Your work reminds me of a dream that tells us both about the fleeting nature of our lives and the intensity of human experiences.’
‘Your musical work is a precious assembly.
‘Your ballad towards the blue lake also reminds me of Shakespeare, his quest for love, his weariness in the face of the world’s wear and tear, his irrepressible need to project himself elsewhere.
‘It creates harmony within me.
“It feels like being invited into an indescribable, mysterious world. It immediately changed my mood and got my mind working!”
“Overall, it tickled my inner child. It was very pleasant.”
“Subtle and delicate! Beauty has wings…”
“This music is so serene and rejuvenating to my mind. Thank you.”
“This magnificent hymn to serenity and peace of mind.”
“It is a refreshing pleasure for the soul to listen to it. A universe that I am happy to rediscover.”
“Two years later, your music still transcends me just as much; certain passages even bring tears to my eyes.”
“Thank you for sharing this harbinger of beautiful things…”
“Your music provokes words…”
“This music is neither ancient nor modern; it lodges elsewhere in the honeycomb cells, like ageless honey. It is an image from a tale of the present, gently touching the keys of a clarinet, its crystalline blades. It is a house of cards built by a skilled hand, a temple of sound made of matches, a rustling that reflects the water of memory, molecules that trace a sentimental path, oscillating like the origin of life, building itself as the moment arrives and departs. The moment leaves behind a distant horizon where morning colours dissipate, a silent film, a long tracking shot of a dream day.
“Her music is mobile, risky, on the borderline of insecurity. It is the fluidity of a river that flows without me knowing where it comes from or where it goes, leaving the undulating vibrations of its liquid percussion to capture everything that is alive in me. Could this be a moment of humanity…?”
You are highly sought after for collaborations and collective projects, from animated films and documentaries to performances in museums. What changes in your creative process when you compose for images or a specific space, rather than for a concert stage?
On a solo concert stage, I create in a more intimate way, like introspection. I impose my rhythm, while interacting directly with the audience.
When I collaborate with others, they invite me to join them in their world, which pushes me to open up to new horizons. I am then at the service of the work and its message; I am not in control of the dialogue, but I participate in it. With contemporary dance performances, it’s very important to have an exchange with the choreographer in order to understand their concept. For me, it’s about creating or dressing the space with sound; it’s a kind of service for the dancers or the play. With animated films, it’s yet another relationship, as I don’t have an audience but an image in front of me.
Illustrator Serge Bloch asked me to set the images to music, so I enter into each character and capture their emotions, their sensibilities, their humour and even the situation and the atmosphere, and I illustrate them in sound with the clarinets. I embody a message that is very different from my voice. When I perform at the museum, it is a communication between the works or artists and my music.
Each time, it is necessary to understand the deeper meaning of the works of the artists with whom I collaborate in order to translate the message as accurately as possible into music.
On a solo concert stage, I create in a more intimate way, like introspection. I impose my rhythm, while interacting directly with the audience.
You have also worked with dancers, circus artists and street performers. Is there one collaboration that particularly transformed your way of thinking about sound and movement?
I started out professionally in music alongside dancers, whose often abstract performances really stimulated my imagination. Each collaboration has enriched me greatly. I am fortunate to have been able to work with artists from a variety of backgrounds. I don’t think I could single out any one experience in particular. Collaborating in such a diverse range of ways has given me flexibility of mind and creativity.
Alone on stage with so many instruments, how do you decide, from evening to evening, what your “journey” will be for that particular audience?
It is the audience who create their own journeys with their feelings and experiences. Based on my sounds.
What do you hope people feel or carry with them after experiencing one of your concerts?
I would like them to take their rediscovered or unknown emotions with them, and for their imaginary journey to continue. I hope they feel enough emotion to follow me on my platform so that we can share new adventures together.
I would like them to take their rediscovered or unknown emotions with them, and for their imaginary journey to continue.
Why should people come see you at WOMADelaide?
I am very happy to be scheduled to perform at WOMADelaide, one of the world’s largest music and dance festivals. And the festival audience has the advantage of being there to discover new music, or at least music that we don’t listen to every day, so I hope and wish that this audience will come and discover my music and that we can have this exchange between them and me.
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We thank Yuka Okazaki for this interview and cannot wait to see her at WOMADelaide in March.
KEY INFO FOR YUKA OKAZAKI AT WOMADELAIDE 2026
WHAT: Yuka Okazaki in concert at WOMADelaide 2026
WHEN: Yuka Okazaki will play on Friday 6 and Sunday 8 March. WOMADelaide runs from Friday 6 to Monday 9 March. Playing times have not yet been announced.
WHERE: Botanic Park, ADELAIDE
HOW: Purchase your tickets via the WOMADelaide website
HOW MUCH: There are several different ticket options from single day tickets, or 3 or 4 day passes, ranging from $240 for a single day ticket on the days Asmâa Hamzaoui and Bnat Timbouktou are playing or $475 for the entirety of WOMADelaide. Children under 12 enter free and there are Youth (13-17 years of age) and Concession discounts.
To find out more about WOMADelaide 2026, read our article about the French and Francophone links in the WOMADelaide 2026 program
