It’s 1984, and Ryuichi Sakamoto is riding around town with filmmaker Elizabeth Lennard as she shoots Tokyo Melody, a portrait of the Japanese composer at the height of his fame. Between half-smiles and cigarettes, he ruminates on art and technology, answers oui and hai to unheard questions, then sits down at the Fairlight CMI digital audio workstation. “This is time. I’m making a loop.” He scribbles something on the screen and points to the image: an undulating wave of green. “In fact,” he hesitates, “… it’s more complicated.”