2024 Album Preview Series - Part 10 of 12: The All-Japan Episode

This episode features artists from Japan, including:

88Kasyo Junrei - ◯△☐ (2012) The Yoshida Brothers - Hishou (2006) Naoki Sato - Godzilla Minus One OST (2023) Oki - Tonkori in the Moonlight (2022)

Here's a few words on the Space Battleship Yamato OST.

Aaand the ever-present Dr. Spin's 2024 Radio playlist

2022 Album Appetizers Part 1 of 12

Starting the year off right, with

Low – HEY WHAT (2021)

Brendan Eder Ensemble – Edward Blankman / Cape Cod Cottage (2021)

Ten Ten – Ko- Banashi (2013)

Vanishing Twin – Ookii Gekkou (2021)

The return of Spin Radio for 2022!

2021 Album Preview Series: October Showcase

Preview of new music in rotation for October, including releases by:

Arlo Parks – Collapsed in Sunbeams (2021)
Gaspard Auge – Escapades (2021)
Hans Zimmer – Dune OST (2021)
Weezer – OK Human (2021)
The Armed – Ultrapop (2021)
TEKE::TEKE – Shirushi (2021)

Relevant Links:

Full Arlo Parks performance
Full TEKE::TEKE performance
Full Weezer performance
Text post on Jodorowsky’s Dune OST

Discovering the Shakuhachi: Aikido and Ethno

When I began practicing aikido in earnest in 1998, I was fortunate to walk into a tight-knit community of Texas dojos that stretched from San Antonio to Denton. I remember taking every opportunity to practice at a new dojo in a different town. While I certainly had personal reasons for starting to practice in the first place, this sense of community often kept me going. Since then, teachers have retired and passed on, and I would love to be able to say that we, as a body of practitioners, have navigated these losses gracefully, but this has not been the case. Instead, due to the egos of individuals who feel entitled to some sort of authority and recognition, the organization has splintered. Perhaps Western culture just isn’t ready for the kind of lesson that O-Sensei was trying to teach with aikido.

Aikido practice, however, also generated a personal interest in Japanese culture. When I finished my ethnomusicology degree, it dawned on me, perhaps too late, that my martial arts experience might dovetail nicely into Japanese music studies. Clearly, if there was any culture in the world I really wanted to “immerse” myself, it was Japan. Towards the end of my research, I began to think about ways to use instruments as a lens to view culture. For me to continue on this research path, it made sense to adopt a Japanese instrument.

I started to look into traditional Japanese music. One of my favorite recordings I unearthed was the Nonesuch album Japan: Traditional Vocal and Instrumental Music by the Ensemble Nipponia. It represents a remarkable variety of traditions, but it’s also unified by the outstanding musicianship of the ensemble’s members. While all of the performances are remarkable, the shakuhachi performances really caught my attention. The track Edo Lullaby, which is an original arrangement of a traditional melody, singlehandedly convinced me to adopt the shakuhachi.



I procured an instrument and was very fortunate to find an experienced teacher. I took lessons for nearly two years with the intent of focusing on the shakuhachi in a PhD program. I have not entirely given up on this research agenda, but life has put the immediacy of doctoral work on hold for the time being. Japan: Traditional Vocal and Instrumental Music, however, remains, and has evolved into a personal and family favorite. Both my wife and daughter enjoy the album beyond its merely exotic exterior (I think). As I revisited it earlier this year, I found that The Little One particularly likes Ozatsuma for its angular, frantic energy.



My genuine appreciation for the aesthetic beauty of this music assures me of one thing: my ethnomusicological degree broadened my horizons. It gave me an irreplaceable experience that permeates the breadth of my musical experiences. When I finished my degree, however, I found myself back on the path that I left. I ended up with a challenging and rewarding job as a band director at a title one school to begin paying off my student debt. I genuinely enjoy what I do, but I sometimes wonder about the meaning of my studies, not with a sense of regret, but rather with anticipation. I suspect that their true worth has not yet been revealed.

The Peaceful Haze of "Half Dreaming"

I moved back to Austin in the summer of 2009 to an apartment complex that I now remember as idyllic. It was very clean and well-kept, our neighbors were mostly pretty realistic and mature, and my new wife felt safe enough to walk to the gym in the morning dark. It was quite perfect for us at the time, and it represented the promise of the new life we had begun to lead in Austin. Additionally, I was finishing my Master’s thesis in ethnomusicology, and I was riding a wave of academic momentum. As I began to break free of the constraints of my study, I focused that energy on the study of Asian music. I took Japanese language lessons the following summer and studied the shakuhachi as an investment in my potential future as an ethnomusicological scholar.

A few months after that move, Mew’s album No More Stories are Told Today…… was released, which subsequently reignited my interest in the shoegaze bands that they cite as influences. I was already giving My Bloody Valentine a second run, but they had me banging my head against the wall. I could sense that Loveless had more going on than I understood, but I was still looking in the wrong places. I thought I would branch out, and, inspired by my increasing interest in Japanese music and a couple of great experiences with global pop compilations, I discovered Half-Dreaming, a collection of Asian shoegaze and dream-pop.

Considering what I had learned about global popular music, and contemporary Japanese music in particular, I should not have been surprised that Half Dreaming bears very few obvious markers of Asianness. If you are looking for a localized twist on shoegaze, this will probably be disappointing. Asian popular culture, however, has historically been very adept at consuming and repurposing cultural material. Viewed in this fashion, Half Dreaming is an engaging (if somewhat inconsistent) representation of a contemporary Asian style that emerged through the appropriation of a relatively small British scene.

Now I must confess that my experience and knowledge of shoegaze styles is quite blinkered. It was only this year that I finally began to see the fragile beauty of Loveless, so I am hardly an expert. My newfound appreciation for that landmark album, however, prompted me to revisit Half Dreaming.

Distorted, reverbed guitars are often foregrounded on the album, smothering the vocals in a dense fog. Of course, emphasizing effects pedals over vocals in this fashion was a trademark practice of My Bloody Valentine. Their innovation, however, was their ability to preserve a sense of melody without actually emphasizing the melodic material, creating a sublimely amorphous wash of fuzz with just a hint of singability. A few artists on Half Dreaming cover up the vocals by simply drowning them in the mix, which I think misses the point. There are several cases, however, that are able to capture this delicate, inverted balance.



The wall of sound that is associated with shoegazey music can detach the text from the listener, but it also harbors the potential to liberate as its hazy boundaries spill over and beyond the artists’ desire to subjugate it to their narrative. There are a few tracks, however, that apply this unique aesthetic to a more song-based approach, resulting in a compelling reinterpretation of 60s psudeo-psychedelia.



These tracks were the ones I more readily connected with back when I first got Half Dreaming, and now bring to mind otherworldly recollections of the white limestone walls and immaculate landscaping of that apartment complex.  Armed with a new perspective, however, my recent revisit to the collection has been more unilaterally gratifying.  

Defying Gravity: Two SXSW Shows

Just for perspective, the last time I went to see anyone at SXSW, it was this “new thing” that a few clubs were doing.  I got a wristband from Blockbuster Music (where I worked) and I saw Jellyfish and Blues Traveler at Liberty Lunch.  These days, it’s a different story.  It’s like a freaking orgy of hobnobbing and one-upmanship.  In the brief time I spent in the throngs, I saw a guy sympathetically pick up a live mustard-covered crawfish off the street and sincerely apologize to it, and as I waited in line at the Gingerman to get in to see LITE, a dramatic diva preened and obsessed on her cell phone to her girlfriend about meeting Jack White.  I choked back the urge to get all Frank Booth and bark “JACK WHITE? MAN, EFF JACK WHITE!”

As satisfying as that might have been, I chose to focus on my agenda.  I find that it is far more interesting, and financially feasible, to troll for lesser-known (and often free) bands that are caught in the intense gravity of popular culture that surrounds SXSW than it is to be blinded by media-synthesized star power.  

I carved out the time to see two bands during the festivities.  On Thursday, after eating lunch at Whole Foods (my favorite lunch spot), I casually strolled across the street to Waterloo Records to see the Royal Bangs promoting their new release.  I got Let it Beep last year, and although it had a couple of fantastic tracks on it, the entire album seemed a little uneven.  At the time, they were playing as a five-piece, so I was surprised to see them perform as a guitar, drum, and (mostly) keys trio.  Bass parts were sometimes sequenced, sometimes synth, and sometimes a guitar effect.  Synths play a large role in the Royal Bangs, but despite this, they retain a kind of punky DIY feel.  I would not really call them songwriters, but they write good psudeo-prog instrumentals that happen to have vocals.  The first part of this clip is from that lunchtime show.

I liked the Royal Bangs’ set, but it was, ultimately, an outpatient procedure.  After it was over, I went about my day as if nothing had happened.  When I leave a really great show, I almost feel like a different person when I walk away.  The last time that happened was in January 2010 when I saw the Dead Kenny G’s at Momo’s.  This year, I seriously doubt I am going to see another show that will beat out LITE.  Where I felt satisfied with the Royal Bang’s thirty minute set (which is the standard set length during SXSW), I would have gladly listened to LITE play all night long, and I walked away stunned and invigorated. 

When I got to the show on Friday evening, there was an appreciable line at the Gingerman, but the majority of this line was there to see punk/DIY legend Mike Watt, who was touring with LITE.  Several years ago, a friend of mine game me a copy of Mike Watt’s The Secondman’s Middle Stand.  I did not really get the album at the time, but after seeing him live, I have a much greater appreciation for his work.  He put on a great show, but after he was done, the crowd thinned considerably.  I immediately shot to the front and watched LITE set up.  I ended up right by the stage, and when they began playing, I was this close (picture from LITE's tour blog).    

Gingerman’s site described Lite as “instrumental virtuosos from Japan,” and granted, LITE’s music is technical.  Unquestionably, though, they rock.  They exploded on stage with an intense precision that made my hairs literally stand on end and shattered my usual statuesque demeanor.  LITE’s performance expresses the passion that is both the cause and the result of cultivating musical mastery, which is, to me, far more moving than cleverness or public visibility.  Despite being purely instrumental, they captivated both me and, the crowd, it seemed.  The band clearly enjoys playing what they are playing, and this joy is infectious.  Fortunately, there was a person beside me who filmed the show, and I have waited on this footage to arise to post my ramblings on SXSW.  It is pretty much their entire set, so go get a cup of coffee and check it out.

One of LITE’s strongest attributes is their attention to composition above individual technical ability, but they also know when to just to get out of the way.  For example, at the climax of their flawlessly executed version of Image Game (my fight song), the band brought the audience to the edge of their proverbial seats as they counted off several seconds of impenetrable silence, to incredible effect.

Additionally, it was nice to see a real live bass player.   It seems like increasingly, I see bands sequence bass parts and drummers playing to click tracks.  I think it’s funny that, when drum machines came along in the 80s, there was some apprehension that drummers would become obsolete.  Today, it seems like drummers are doing fine – its bassists that should be looking over their shoulders for the axe!  Judging by the studious group crowded around the bassist (one of which had a bass clef tattooed on his forearm), we should all be sticking together, too.

Finally, just for kicks, I thanked each of the members of LITE in my halting Japanese, and they seemed pleased, if not surprised, to hear that pop out of a tall white boy while on tour in Texas.  To keep my enthusiasm in check, though, I promptly left before I reverted too far into goofy teenage fanboy mode and let the sound and feeling of LITE’s set recede into memory.  I promise I'll stop talking about them for a little while.

Contrasting Similarities: Toe and Lite

I enjoy variety in my listening, and often my interest in variety will dictate the direction that it takes.  On the other hand, I do get on kicks with certain styles, and I see no reason to shake them if they continue to hold my interest.  In January, I was checking out a lot of electronic instrumental music, and to rebel against that, I went on a math rock kick at the beginning of this month (because you know, THAT’s so different).  This led to my current interest in Japanese progressive/instrumental music, and right now, even though I have tried to taper off listening to this subgenre, I keep fighting the temptation to fill up the CD player entirely with the stuff.  

In a previous post, I mentioned that Lite would be coming to Austin as part of the SXSW festivities, and that I was also looking into another band called Toe.  Those two seeds came to fruition simultaneously.   Toe's The Book about My Idle Plot on a Vauge Anxiety showed up the day I was going to see Lite at SXSW here in Austin.  There will hopefully be some footage of that show online soon, so I am going to wait to gush about it too much, but I will say that it will be seriously hard for any live act to top Lite this year.  

Between Toe in the car and Lite at the Gingerman, that evening threw gasoline on the Japanese instrumental rock fire I have been warming my hands around.  Although Toe’s similar instrumentation, ideology, and approach seems similar to Lite, their ethereal approach to twin guitars readily distinguishes them.  Toe’s music is intimate and organic in a way that makes them seem more “post-rock” than “math-rock.”

Now, let’s talk over on camera three for a second.  I dislike (nay, hate) the categorization “post-rock.”  I think it is essentially empty.  It’s a label created for progressive rock made after 1995 that intends to distance it from the excesses associated with that style.  Some influential bands such as Sigur Ros and Tortoise have been christened as “post-rock,” and as a result the term has the circumscribed melancholy associated with these bands, circumventing thoughtful description.  And that's the issue: as a category of music, “post-rock” is non-descriptive – it means nothing more than an “alternative” to “alternative.”  I fully accept my complicity in promulgating this term here, but also my reluctance to use it for the sake of brevity.  More on music categories later.

While listening to Toe on the way home, and enjoying it, I also struggled to keep the energy and precision of Lite’s show in my awareness.  I came home and immediately downloaded two of their EPs, Illuminate and Turns Red, and burned them onto a CD.  I even printed out cover art for the case.

 

One of Lite’s strongest attributes is their attention to composition above individual technical ability.  Despite the obvious virtuosity of each of the individual members of Lite, they don’t showcase “solos,” in the classic sense.  I can’t argue the point that Lite uses lots of notes, but I think their chops coalesce in service to the melodic aspects of their work.  Filmlets was primarily guitar-driven, but synthesizers play a more pronounced role in Illuminate/Turns Red.  This is not to say that they have given up on their distinctively angular, riff-driven approach.  Instead, their use of synthesis widens and enhances the sonic possibilities of their work.  This live clip has two of my favorite songs from Illuminate.

Image Game is my "fight song" right now.  In a live setting, it was devastating.  Not only does it showcase their energetic mastery of precisely executed and thickly harmonized melodic lines, but also their ear for atmosphere and ambience.  Side-by-side with Toe, I think the differences between the two bands are apparent, but I also think that fans of one will probably like both.