Cover image created with Gemini using photos of my Yamaha V50 and a vintage cassette as references, then edited in Canva.

In 1994, I composed a piece called Asian. At the time, I had never set foot in Asia. Yet somehow, one sound from my Yamaha V50 transported me there. More than thirty years later, that same piece has survived floppy disks, cassette tapes and changing technology—and today, I'm finally sharing its story.

One flute changed everything

Around 1994, I was exploring every sound inside my Yamaha V50. Then I found a flute preset. I don't even remember its name anymore. But I remember exactly what happened when I heard it. Immediately, I imagined Asian landscapes.

Not a specific country, not a documentary. More like an aerial shot drifting above endless rice fields, watching farmers working below as if the camera were flying like a bird.

The title came naturally : Asian.

The melody arrived surprisingly quickly. Then the percussion appeared. After that, I wanted to add an electronic touch with a synth bass. Finally, I realized something was still missing, so I began adding small background instruments until the piece felt complete.

Everything was played on the Yamaha V50

Unlike some of my later compositions, Asian wasn't created with Cubase or even my Atari. Everything happened inside the V50 itself.

The built-in 8-track sequencer became my entire recording studio. Every melodic part was performed in real time. Only the drums were programmed as rhythm patterns.
One sound became almost inseparable from this period of my life : The V50 pad called Analog.

I used it constantly for atmospheric layers. Looking back, I realize that those sounds became part of my musical identity.

The hardest part wasn't the main melody

Surprisingly, the most difficult part wasn't the lead flute. It was the flute countermelody hidden in the background. I wanted it to feel like another musician who wasn't really paying attention to the rest of the band. Almost independent, almost floating. Today, it's still my favorite part of the piece. It gives the music a lightness that I don't think would exist without it.

I never liked four-bar loops

One thing hasn't changed much since then. Even today, I struggle with songs built around the same four-bar loop from beginning to end. Back then, I wanted music to evolve. To breathe, to travel somewhere. That's why Asian slowly changes over six minutes instead of repeating itself endlessly.

My favorite moment is still the bridge, just before the main theme returns. For me, it's a brief moment of weightlessness. Almost like taking one more look across those imaginary rice fields before continuing the journey.

A cassette saved the song

Back then, this was my normal recording process. The Yamaha V50 was connected to my Inkel MX-991 mixing console. From there, I recorded onto my father's hi-fi cassette deck. That cassette became the only surviving recording.

Years later, my first thought wasn't : "I should clean up the audio.". It was : "I need to save this before the cassette dies." So I transferred it to my computer and made backup copies on CD.

The small amount of hiss you can hear today doesn't bother me. In fact, I think it belongs there. Back then, tape hiss was simply part of listening to music. And some of it probably came from the mixing console itself. That sound has become part of the memory.

It also reminds me of my student years

This piece carries another memory that almost nobody knows.

When I was a student, inspiration often woke me up in the middle of the night. Instead of trying to remember it until morning, I got out of bed, switched on the Yamaha V50 and recorded the idea immediately into the sequencer. Asian was one of those nights. Sometimes inspiration simply refused to wait until sunrise.

My parents always listened to my new compositions. So did my best friend. Those were my very first audience. Ironically, despite all the time I spent creating these pieces, none of my original tracks—including Asian—were ever performed live.

Would I remake it today?

Sometimes I think about creating a modern version. But I wouldn't change its soul. I'd keep the overall structure exactly as it is. The first thing I'd update would probably be the percussion. I'd love to replace them with authentic Asian percussion while keeping the same musical journey.

And despite my love for Synthesizer V today... I think Asian should remain instrumental. Maybe a few mysterious spoken phrases someday. But never a full vocal performance. Some stories don't need lyrics.

A message to my younger self

If I could speak to the young Emmanuel who had just finished Asian in 1994, I'd probably say :

"What a performance. You managed to create a piece that makes people think of Asia without ever having been there. It's a shame you don't know what the technology of 2026 will become."

Looking back, I realize something : this song has survived floppy disks, cassette tapes, MP3 conversion and more than thirty years of changing technology. The tools evolved. The music stayed.

This is the original recording transferred from cassette

No remake, no modern production. Just the version that survived all these years.

And what about you ?

Do you still have one of your very first recordings? Whether it's a cassette, a floppy disk, a MiniDisc or an old hard drive...

What's the oldest piece of music you've managed to save ?