Label:
Frasco Records – FRASCO FS-7007
Format:
Vinyl, LP, Album / Country: Japan
Released
Year: 1976
Style:
Experimental, Avantgarde, Free Jazz, Psychedelic Rock
Recorded
at Phonogram Studio, Victor Studio, 28 July 1975 to 24 January 1976.
Produced by Yosuke Yamashita
A1 - 海 Umi . . . . .14'37"
A2 - 月 Tsuki . . . . .6'20"
B1 - 嵐 Arashi . . . 11'30"
B2 - 家 Ie . . . . . . . 7'02"
山下洋輔 Yosuke Yamashita : piano, el-piano, synth, etc
筒井康隆 Yasutaka Tsutsui : narration
タモリ Tamori : narration
伊勢昌之 Masayuki Ise : guitar
坂田明 Akira Sakata : alto sax
向井滋春 Shigeharu Mukai : trombone
高橋知己 Tomoki Takahashi : tenor sax
近藤等則 Toshinori Kondo : trumpet
国吉征之 Masayuki Kuniyoshi : flute
望月英明 Hideaki Mochizuki : bass
大貫妙子 Taeko Ohnuki : vocal
寺尾次郎 Jiro Terao : el-bass
村松邦男 Kunio Muramatsu : guitar
山川恵子 Keiko Yamakawa : harp
One
of the strangest LPs I have, it’s rather rare, I’m told and is a joint effort
by Yosuke Yamashita (legendary free jazz pianist and famed soundtrack composer)
and the Ballard-ian SF-author, Tsutsui Yasutaka (who wrote the lyrics and, I
think, an original book or play which this LP sonically adapts). Although, I’m
not sure if this piece was ever adapted for theatre – it would seem likely,
given the Japanese tradition for such fare - but, aesthetically, it sits
comfortably within the remit of Julian’s Japrocksampler. If ever Julian adds a
new appendix of extra works in a second edition – this one is in real need of
consideration.
It’s
an incredibly mysterious sounding record, and, at times, mesmerising and
atmospheric in a cinematic sort of way. Pitched somewhere between People’s
Ceremony – Buddha Meet Rock, Miles Davis’s mellow, late-night elegiac pieces,
Terry Riley’s mystic, trance-inducing minimalism, Stomu Yamashita’s early 70s
theatrical LPS (particularly Man From the East), abstract sound collage, and
more realistic radio drama. It also boasts moments of Canterbury-like
progressive fullness - Robert Wyatt’s ‘under-watery’ Rock Bottom comes to mind,
as does the mellow-but-muscular Hatfield and the North’s first LP) -
(proto-)post-modern inter-textual playfulness and some rather extreme sonic
experimentation.
Someone
on the ever reliable MUTANT SOUNDS blog describes it thusly: “like a
combination of Franco Battiato, Mike Oldfield, Igor Wakhevitch, Urban Sax,
Stomu Yamashta and Keith Tippett.”
Released
in 1976 on the Frasco label it features a whole host of musicians playing what
amounts to a small orchestra and a small cast of actors/narrator – Yamashita
plays an arsenal of keyboards, including warm-sounding Rhodes, icy grand piano
(possibly his forte?), Hammond, and both Korg and Arp synthesisers. As well as
the nominal strings and brass of a small orchestra set-up, there are harpists,
chorales, upright bass, traditional ethnic Japanese instruments (particularly
percussion) and synthesized guitar (played by Ise Masayuki).
As to the story, I’ve
no idea – it seems rather dark and gothic – the 6 page insert featuring some
rather disturbing gothic-surrealist ink drawings (Mervyn Peake by way of Paul
Delvaux). An odd house situated in the middle of a becalmed sea, there’s a dark
and obscured figure in a boat (not noticeable at first), about to board the
house maybe? Inside the booklet features the same house in a montage amidst
skeletons, oversized heads, shooting stars, blood veins or bodily entrails and owls
and butterflies that do little to lighten the mood created. Suffice to say,
it’s obvious this tale has its ‘down and dark’ moments!
“Umi”
(14:37) A nebulous Korg 700 series ushers in a tumbling, fumbling melody – that
sounds like its falling from the inky blue night right into the ocean depths –
like some small sea anemone skittering around the ocean floor as gamelan-like
percussion and low-key synthesiser rumbles begin to tremble underneath. The
whole atmosphere is remarkably aquatic to begin with – or as if we’re somehow
inside the veins and arteries of a body, traversing inner space.
Odd
string instruments are plucked and stroked, as the narrator sounds like he’s
chewing on some gravel. He begins to cough and stutter as if the clearing of
his throat figures as a musical component. The trance-like vibe, however,
remains, as kotos and other loose-stringed things coax out some very sinuous
sounds. The ‘deep sea’ synthesiser line disappears to be replaced with thrummed
percussion and trance-like drones of electronic mush. The narrator begins to
introduce the tale. As the drone gets more assertive a Terry Riley like piano
line begins – repeated over and over - and warm electric guitars unfold, with
rich warm notes peeled off. The piano line is like a bizarre sonic Moebius
curve of notes, pitched in some nether region situated between all the various
modes.
Over
this a warn Rhodes is added and the late night Miles trumpet wails mournfully,
a perfect soundtrack for a 3am drive through some neon mega-city – a perfectly
posed blend of People’s Ceremony - Buddha Meets Rock and Bark Psychosis immense
Hex LP. Suddenly, a resounding bass undertow heralds a wonderful female vocal
chorus who half whisper/ half sing (over and over): “Japanese, Japanese / Sight
Breeze, Slight Breeze…” The repeated piano riff gets stronger and out of the
blue Yamashita pays homage to the Tubular Bells riff from, well, Tubular
Bells(1973) and more rigorous as free jazz flutes skit across its surface to be
joined by rampant piano (of the like Yamashita is famed for). Upwards and
upwards this circular prayer travels until it suddenly cuts off – leaving
behind a pale, pastel electronic sequence.
This
sequence is the introduction for “Tsuki” a slowly moving, slowly gestating,
late night stroll of a track – the narrator continuing the tale as walking
upright bass and candle pale string washes on the synthesiser create a very
cinematic noir-ish feel. Pastel strings and quivering guitar chords tremble and
gradually wither away into the overall mix. Its very meditative and certainly
has the same repetitive mantra-like patience as the People LP. The narrator
continues as only the sequence behind him continues. After this remarkable drop
out the body of sound thickens to introduce Ornette Coleman-like Saxophone
(half-blues cliché/half free-jazz speaking in tongues) and Hermman-like string
synthesisers which gradually, and insidiously, begin to devour the track, their
tonal manoeuvres getting more and more sinister, growing like vines chocking
the atmosphere, as saxophone cries out – a tremolo effect washes over the
strings, which climb and climb. Each new interval seemingly more discordant and
creepy than the last - It’s incredibly cinematic (of course, Yamashita
sound-tracked many Japanese films). Upwards and upwards the strings dive, the
sax more and more frenetic until… silence, and its left to the narrator to
utter some final compelling epitaph that I don’t understand (and could well be
– “Continued on Side Two!!”
Side
Two’s “Arasi” is much more abstract and obviously moves the narrative on
considerably, with the narrator battling for the first 5 minutes against huge,
phosphorescent synthesiser swells, distant atonal piano dribble, Africana
percussion, sounds effects of gunfire, wind (lots and lots of synthesised
wind), and baby cries. This track grows into a huge sonic collage – the
narrator seemingly infected by the musical madness that is occurring all around
him as he himself begins to rant, other demonic voices swelling up with him,
and it’s as if we’ve entered an Igor Wakhevitch nightmare in the Land of the
Rising Sun.
With
the keyboards still fizzing and farting away, distant free jazz piano dribbling
in and out of the cracks left in the sound of synthesised wind, a bizarre Latin
guitar strum begins as the narrator whistles along. Yet more odd characters
appear, talking, whispering, ranting, and growling. Buddhist chants appear out
of this sonic stew briefly, as the dialogue returns at arbitrary moments.
Things get increasingly more bizarre for the next 8 minutes – it makes
Revolution No 9 sound like a “Story for Bedtime,” until the whole thing ends up
blasted apart by a bomb of Nagasaki-like proportions.
Ice
slithers of piano are the first thing to emerge out of the destruction – clear
as a bell, cool, cool shards of brittle sound and then another slow bass march
and maudlin accordions and synthesisers begin a calming Debussy-like waltz
through this futuristic mindscape of sound and energy – replete with cascading
harps, seagulls, waves (synthesised!) crashing on the shore, cosmic washes of
synthesiser – until all is eventually bundled together in one big miasma of
sound and heads off into the galaxy - a huge supernova of sound. After what
seems like some audio-verite studio discussion with the narrator, some woman,
and various technicians, the last track begins
“IE”
begins on a drone – backwards guitar and cymbal hits sucks sound and life into
the track, a weird synthesiser tone that merges in and out of a variation on
the repeated riff of Side One; gentle guitars and harps are plucked, as more
narration begins to close (what surely must be) a hugely strange tale. The
effect is almost like a psychedelic Musical box, but the arrangement builds
beautifully again – as heavenly trumpets and strings orchestrate the piece – a
Japanese “Sketches of Spain” maybe, it’s quite, quite moving.
Yamashta’s
orchestral jazz spirit really pervades here in this closing movement – as phat
Korgs join in on the accompanying lines of brass. As largely reverberating
vibes are stroked – stunning stuff – there’s an almost aqueous, oceanic affect
- similarities (and distinct ones at that) with Talk Talk’s mighty Spirit of Eden
are evident. Wonder if Mark Hollis and (Bark Psychosis’) Graham Sutton know
this monster – it certainly sounds like it, hearing their own work. A
gorgeously ethereal (as only the Japanese can do) spiritual jazz aesthetic
brings these bizarre musings to a close, here we could be right at the bottom
of Robert Wyatt’s Rock Bottom, a strangely innocent and humble quality. The
ever-repeated mantra goes on and on and on….into everlastingness! Or,
alternatively (and as it sounds on here) until the batteries run out!
One
of the most mysterious records I own. Enjoy!
Reviewed by aether,
16/01/2012
If
you find it, buy this album!
