If you know me well there are probably a few facts that come to mind. One: I love a good cat nap. Two: my archnemesis is Canadian Winter, and three: Spirited Away is my favorite movie of all time. Since childhood, I have seen this film an embarrassing number of times (which I’ll admit now is probably somewhere upwards of twenty) and if I’m being honest, it probably won’t stop there. It’s my guilty guiltless pleasure.

Part of what keeps me coming back to this masterpiece of animation is, of course, the hand-drawn marvels, from the soot sprites to an adorable mouse companion barely the size of a hand. Part of it is also the weird, strange, and somewhat nonsensical Alice in Wonderland-esque storyline in which our main character finds herself whisked away to the Spirit World with a mysterious bathhouse. But oddly enough, the thing that always sticks with me the most after watching it and the thing that makes me return is the soundtrack. It’s the perfect backdrop to, if you’re arguing with me, arguably the perfect film. It’s full of lilting whimsy, forlorn mystery, and nostalgia. So, last year when my friend told me that not only was the composer of my favorite film coming to town, but he was coming to town to perform his work on Spirited Away (among others) I couldn’t say “take my money!” fast enough.

There are a few more things you should know about me. Four: I am exactly the type of person to fangirl over a 73-year-old Japanese composer. Five: at the height of pandemic boredom my friends and I had a PowerPoint party (which is a lot more fun than it sounds when your presentation is allowed to be as unhinged as possible), where I decided said 73-year-old Japanese composer was going to be the thing I forced my friends to listen to twenty minutes of hyperactive rambling about (and I still have that presentation laying around somewhere in my Google Drive). So, fair warning, I’m about to fangirl for an indeterminate number of words. Get ready.