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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
