THE MIRACLE

Keeping on the “Japanese Heavy Psych” vibe that SPL left off with last year, I thought I’d contribute one of my personal favorites; Kousokuya’s blistering first (and only) studio LP, the imaginatively titled 1^{s t} from 1991 (recorded in '89-90).

Kousokuya (English= Night Flux) started back in 1979 as a sort of no wave group replete with synthesizer plonking. Guitarist and occasional vocalist Kaneko Jutok continued on, taking the group into a harder, darker, more rock based direction, albeit one that retained his untamed guitar mangling. Unlike the similar Keiji Haino, whose Fushitsusha brings guitar noise to near transcendental levels; Jutok’s style is more fractured and spacious, willing to let hideous notes ring out on waves of feedback. There’s also a charming feel of amateurishness that, thankfully, never forces the listener to suspend disbelief; it’s obvious he knows what he’s doing. He also has an ungodly tone, not dissimilar to Black Sabbath’s Tony Iommi.

These aren’t just showcases for Jutok’s guitar exorcisms’ though; there are songs. The rhythm section are interesting in their own right; the singularly named bassist / vocalist, Mick, has a sick fuzztone goin’ on and her vocals are the mournful cries of a ghost haunting a babbling brook. Drummer Takahashi Ikurou alternates between big rock pounding, jazzbo sticksmanship and something approaching trad Japanese percussion.

It’s not all explosions either; “Removal” is a moody piece buffeted by Mick’s three note dirge and spectral, off-key, moaning while Jutok and Takahashi play with free dynamics. It sounds like Sabbath’s “War Pigs” convalescing in a v.a. hospital after stepping on an IED.

Although 1^st is the only studio album the band produced (Kaneko Jutok died unexpectedly from a heart attack in 2007), there are numerous live albums that are available and worth hearing – particularly Ray Night (not to be confused with Ray Night 1991-1992) and The Dark Spot which is a collaboration with saxophonist (alto) and PSF label mate Masayoshi Urabe (depending, of course, on how much sax skronk you can handle).



In the comments, old friends!

Endless Descent

SUISHOU NO FUNE - Mystic Atmosphere

Maggots in mouth. Blood drained from face. Mourners look on in disbelief at the bloated carcass; too much time in the trenches has made 'em too battle-scarred to feel much of anything, especially for those granted an early release. Seems we got ourselves a stinking sinkhole of gloom here, kids. Yet, like the best tuneage, there's a nagging paradox here-- stemming from the countless layers of über-sustained, shimmering fuzz guitars. Get that there shiv away from yer delicate (though undoubtedly strong from the countless hours of pulling yer pud to Carli Banks vids) wrists and wallow in the obtuse melodies only the Japanese seem to be capable of.

In comments (speaking of which, just cuz I ain't posting with the frequency of yore don't mean a poor bastard, despite being on a lofty spiritual plane, all of a sudden appreciates the sound of cyber-crickets. Ya fucks).

Inflamed Thought

FUSHITSUSHA - A Little Longer Thus (1998)

An unusual entry in the Haino/Fushitsusha canon even by his/their standards, "Thus" introduces new sticksman  Ikuroh Takahashi, who seems to have decided to play the sparsest style possible. A few simple cymbal taps here, a ridiculously tight (as in tuning) snare beating there; flash of any kind seemingly not permitted.  Late bassist Yasushi Ozawa adds a few tonal colors, but again, simplicity is the rule here. Even Keiji Haino plays droning, distortion-free lines uncharacteristic of this era of the band's existence. Vocals, when there are any, which is rarely, range from nigh-inaudible to feedback-caked shrieks. Needless to say, an opus that is the very definition of a grower.

In comments.

More Blood

JAMES BLOOD ULMER - Black Rock (1982)

Jimmy Blood decides to go all P-Funk all over our worthless asses on this 1982 outing. Alas, the finest moments are when he whips out some of his demented harmolodic riffing; freed from the somewhat conventional confines of the majority of the material featured here. I doubt some of the bordering on saccharine-sweet vocal numbers like "Love Has Two Faces" and "Family Affair" (featuring the overwrought stylings of Irene Datcher) gave Sly Stone any sleepless nights. That said, on guitar extravaganzas like "Open House," "More Blood" and "Fun House," where the dissonant, genitalia-scorchin' licks come fast and furious, it's easy to find it in yer black heart to forgive the aforementioned sub-Funkadelic transgressions.

In comments.

More more Blood here.

Blood Shaking My Heart

MASAYUKI TAKAYANAGI & NEW DIRECTION UNIT- April is the Cruellest Month (1975)

For purely selfish reasons, I wish the music of Masayuki "JoJo" Takayanagi would reach a wider audience. With the unoriginal, safe, samey dullard-drone fucktards out there considered "groundbreaking" on labels like Matawhore, Southern Snore and their ilk, none of  'em have ever scaled the euphoric peaks and soul-numbing lows JoJo laid down three decades ago. Mebbe if they'd heard albums like this one, things would be different (and if they have-- shame on you visionless hacks!!), cuz it seems to me that much as the Velvets and Stooges incorporated elements of Ayler and Ornette into their jams, this is material begging to be plundered and expanded upon. Not only by the more "avant" element either. They usually fuck it up with their pretentiousness anyway.

Born in Tokyo in 1932, Takayanagi was a leader of the underground Nipponese free jazz/improv scene by as early as the mid-fifties. He's kind of an Eastern equivalent to Sonny Sharrock, though his feedback-drenched axe attack travels even further into Thee Great Fucked Up than St. Sonny. Backed by his New Direction Unit (Kenji Mori [sax/flute/bass clarinet], Nobuyoshi Ino [bass/cello] Hiroshi Yamazaki [percussion]), "April" was originally slated to be released on thee Mighty ESP-Disk, but the label unfortunately folded before its release. From beginning to end of its nearly fifty minutes, JoJo coaxes heavily wah'd scratchy tones that morph into ungodly squawks effortlessly. Special mention should be made of Kenji Mori's contributions-- his flute/sax/bass clarinet transmissions are nothing more and nothing less than amplifications of Dolphy's work on "Other Aspects." Yes, he's that fucking good.

In comments.

13th of Novembuuuuh

PAUL CHAIN - Opera 4th (1987)

Already gave Thee Maestro of Melancholy, Paul Chain, a scribing here (scroll down a tad; oh and if the links are broken, them's the breaks). Judging by the song titles ("Resurrection in Christ" being the most obvious), "Opera 4th" is his take on the classic Xian fairytale. Not that it matters-- all of his lyrics are purely phonetical and improvised on the spot. Instead, dig his monolithic axe riffage that borrows liberally from the Iommi school while maintaining an individuality seldom heard in the doom metal genre.

In comments.

SAINT VITUS - The Walking Dead (EP, 1985)

Last effort with original vocalist Scott Reagers (who rejoined a few later for their magnum opus "Die Healing"), here's three wounded leeches crawling through a vat of pus, blood and puke masquerading as songs. To spew further verbiage seems pointless; you know 'em, you (should) worship 'em... Saint Fucking Vitus!

Where could it be?

A Night in Thursday

KAORU ABE - Mokuyôbi no Yoru

WARNING: The paint-peeling screech of Mr. Abe's alto sax has been known to circumcise goyim at 200 paces, shatter ovaries, generate spontaneous combustion of large and small rodents (depending upon the caloric intake of ironic-mustached hipster douchebag), why, it's even said that upon his first exposure to Abe's subsonic squawk, Anthony Braxton actually blinked!

All bullshitting aside, this live 1972 unaccompanied recording of Kaoru Abe finds him terrifying the (5? 6?) patrons of the small "Pit-Inn Tea Room" in Tokyo. Not to get all Zen 'n' shit, but the reaction seems to answer the answerless, such as, "what is the sound of one hand clapping?" In his short, tragic life, bewilderment & terror from anyone other than Masayuki Takayanagi was merely another day at the office. I've listened to this opus every morning over my Cheerios for the last few months (don't laugh-- I've done the same with Ascension and Spiritual Unity), and after initially being intrigued by the Ayler-esque "Military Marching Band From Hell" sections that blaze by in the wink of an eye, it soon began to dawn on me that I was listening to nothing more than one dude blasting away for nearly an hour without the safety net of collaborators... and wasn't bored for even a second! Guess there was plenty of demons in KA's tortured soul to, uh, "entertain" me (he died in 1978 at the age of 29 of a drug overdose).

Speaking of which, apparently there's a biopic out there called "Endless Waltz". Anybody seen it?

Still alive, still in comments.