My brother and I stared at each other in disbelief as we walked to the front row of the Marian Anderson Concert Hall in downtown Philadelphia. Mere feet away from the gathering musicians, we marvelled at the hall’s swooping balconies, trying to understand how we landed front-row seats for the symphony performance. A significantly younger crowd than we expected filled the hall. Young adults and families arrived in outfits that ranged from everyday clothes to flashes of extravagance. We noticed a woman in a full-length ballgown and heels next to a couple wearing jeans and flannels — a testament to the universal appeal of Joe Hisaishi. Thunderous applause filled the hall as Hisaishi waltzed onto the stage. With a calm smile and handshake to concertmaster David Kim, Hisaishi adjusted the piano bench and assumed his position on the conductor’s podium.
Hisaishi, an acclaimed Japanese composer, is renowned for his film scores, particularly those written for the films of Hayao Miyazaki, including “Howl’s Moving Castle,” “My Neighbor Totoro,” “Spirited Away,” and most recently, “The Boy and the Heron.” He was named the Philadelphia Symphony’s composer-in-residence in October 2025, ushering in an exciting few years of collaboration between the acclaimed artist and Philly’s orchestra. With a flourish of his baton, Hisashi cued the first notes of the concert, a sustained low hum from the basses. The subsequent swelling sound from the rest of the orchestra slowed back to a simple pattern in the violins and violas, before giving way to the opening notes of the beloved “Merry-Go-Round of Life” melody. Throughout the piece, the orchestra playfully explored the central motif in a variety of tones and tempos. Hisaishi made warm eye contact with the musicians seated in front of him as he swayed and breathed through the notes. When he finally stepped away from conducting and sat at the piano to play his iconic melody, the orchestra fell away to silence. I could feel the audience take a collective breath as the first notes flowed from Hisaishi’s fingers. He lived the music fully, patiently expressing the song as if he knew he was providing the soundtrack for our collective journey into nostalgia.
However, my introspective bubble burst shortly after the first song concluded as an usher asked to see our tickets. She politely informed us that we did not have front-row seats and should have been in the rear orchestra. I assured her that an usher sat us and she mused, “It may have even been me who sat you there!” Embarrassed but laughing, my brother and I relocated to our actual seats. From the orchestra floor’s center rear view, we enjoyed a broader visual perspective and more balanced acoustics of Benjamin Britten’s “Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Purcell,” followed by Hisaishi’s “DA-MA-SHI-E” and “Symphonic Suite from ‘Castle in the Sky.’”
As the final notes faded into the background, the audience jumped to their feet. Hisaishi shook every section leader’s hand and bowed to every corner of the hall before gesturing back to the piano. He sat and began the four-chord introduction to “One Summer’s Day” from “Spirited Away.” Tears welled in my throat as he continued, and I felt the loss of a phase of life this music had come to define. I realized how much I suppressed thoughts of my childhood in the first few months of college, desperate to adjust to the sudden adulthood I was determined to thrive in. As eighteen years of memories flooded back, I allowed myself to fully feel the absence of my family in my new life. Nights spent squished between my brothers on the couch, escaping to the mystical worlds brought to life by Hayao Miyazaki and Joe Hisaishi that are no longer easily accessible comforts. They are now only reminiscences. While absorbing Hisaishi’s reflective playing, I allowed myself to feel childhood joy and mourn the knowledge that I am forever looking back on that period of my life.
Throughout the concert, Hisaishi’s music and conducting spoke to the beauty of simplicity with quiet persistence. His gentle melodies inspired longing for an image of childhood itself. Whether entirely accurate or not, Hisaishi memorializes the fantastical wonder of discovering a world surrounded by love. After another standing ovation, he returned to the podium — for the final time — and conducted the orchestra through the playful but sincere theme from “My Neighbor Totoro.” I cried and laughed with the audience as we boarded the catbus, fell through a hole in the camphor tree, and searched for Totoro in the winding roots of our nostalgia.
