This week's series of episodes features images from Asheville, NC, which was devastated by Hurricane Helene this past week.
Please consider donating to the various organizations in and around the area.
Episode 714 features music by Pan•American, Maria Somerville, Patrick Cowley, The Gaslamp Killer and Jason Wool, Der Stil, Astrid Sonne, Reymour, Carlos Haayen Y Su Piano Candeloso, Harry Beckett, Tarwater, Mermaid Chunky, and Three Quarter Skies.
Episode 715 has Liquid Liquid, Kim Deal, Severed Heads, Los Agentes Secretos, mHz, Troller, Mark Templeton, Onkonomiyaki Labs, Deadly Headley, Windy and Carl, Sunroof, and claire rousay.
Episode 716 includes Actors, MJ Guider, The Advisory Circle, The Bug, Alessandro Cortini, The Legendary Pink Dots, Chihei Hatakeyama and Shun Ishiwaka, Arborra, Ceremony, Ueno Takashi, Organi, and Saagara.
Sparkly disjointed pop by Finnish luminary Jonna Karanka!
As part of legendary groups such as Avarus, Hertta Lussu Ässä and Olimpia Splendid, Jonna Karanka has been a key player in the Finnish underground for most of this century. Through her Kuupuu alias, she dwells among an illustrious generation of Finn sound wizards which includes Tomuttontu/Jan Anderzen, Tsemba/Marja Ahti, Lau Nau, et al. Through the collaging of warbled acoustic instruments and looped-up electronics, Kuupuu has long been carving out her own lines into this post-free folk/neo-psychedelia lore.
Plz Tell Me, her first LP since 2013's Sisar, was originally a self-released cassette through which new forms emerged in the Kuupuu repertoire. Jungly orchestral arrangements meet slick dub-tinged productions in a series of pop tunes for disjointed times: whether you dance or swoon or stare confusedly into space is up to chance. The original nine tracks get the full LP treatment for this Belgo-Finn treaty renewal, with 12 songs that weave down endless summer full of disembodied voices that moan and quaver as they murmur lullabies to punctured beats. Plz Tell Me opens a dazzling zone for fantasies to inhabit and intertwine, where incongruent sounds and a noisy kit of dreamed storylines knit a full tapestry of whimsical bliss.
Canadian violinist Christopher Whitley presents his first release of this year, Landscape Shifts (Slight Return), a collage of material derived from a 40-minute single movement piece that originally premiered in Austin, Texas earlier this year, composed by Christopher Whitley for small ensemble, electronics and projections.
Having been composed and performed a month before the Covid-19 related US shutdown, the piece was originally conceived in response to the book How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy by Jenny Odell, yet took on a new meaning as the core theme proved to be uncannily prescient in the following months of enforced stasis and lockdown.
The work itself, split into two parts, evokes themes of solitary introversion and serene patience, embedded in an tranquil ambiance featuring light movements of cello, voice, violin, piano, percussion and electronics, yet the piece never comes to feel cluttered as the small ensemble unfolds in a flurry of harmony throughout its 23-minute duration, as even in its busiest moments Landscape Shifts (Slight Return) is as much about the music as it is about the silence in between the individual sounds, giving the work an acute sense of intimacy that offers listeners a moment of sincere respite in these turbulent times.
Under his moniker "Blessed are the Hearts that Bend," filmmaker and artist Luke Seomore channels his narrative abilities and experiences into musical output. Is My Destroyer, his latest album, is an ode to film, legacies and trauma.
On the album, Luke showcases meticulously sculpted compositions that range from solemn ambient soundscapes to orchestral symphonies, often featuring spoken word or field recordings, while being permeated by a rich sense of cinematic atmosphere. Is My Destroyer unfolds like a story arc, always filled with a sense of time and direction as ideas morph, grow, disperse and rekindle; with key pieces like "Palace" these ideas seem unbound, bursting out of their seams with emotional grandeur, elegance and passion, while other works such as "Orio" or "The Tower" offer sincere moments of reprieve.
In the end, Is My Destroyer feels like a film without pictures, enticing listeners to fill the void with their own imaginings as they experience this moving body of work, leaving one with both a shared sense of connectivity and a singular experience, which ties in to the core theme of the work, one where Luke questions how experiences, legends, ideas and trauma get passed on through generations.
Initially self-released digitally earlier this year, Ruben Kotkamp's debut album fall/winter 19ʼ20 showcased the Netherlands-based artist's prowess at crafting a musical world entirely his own, enveloped by a fabric of electronic blips, glitches and clamor. Yet under this soundscape of synthetic networks lies a poignant human component that underpins the inherent moving quality of the work, which when viewed in its entirety comes across as a meditation on the digital ages continually intersecting framework between man and machine, voice and sound, body and fabric.
For this expanded issue, Vaknar presents the original album in physical format for the first time, while including two new pieces that further expand upon themes found in the original work, such as a new composition by Ruben Kotkamp, which interlaces some of the albums components into a 12-minute barrage of static noise and modulated voice experiments.
Additionally the expanded album includes a rework by Belgian composer Mathieu Serruys, who likewise reworks various components from the album and molds them into a 9-minute long, heavily tape-processed soundscape of clattering hiss, droning horns and tempered voices, ending the album on a final swan song of deteriorating machinery and human impermanence.
More information on all three releases can be found here.
Spanning the last 38 years, The Bats have clocked nine incredible albums; each one seeing the band evolve with new material from the prolific songwriting hand of Robert Scott. Add to that tally the extra singles, b-sides, EPs, compilations and tribute songs they’ve recorded, creating a succinct setlist is a nearly impossible task.
Their 10th full-length, Foothills, was recorded in Spring 2018 at a country retreat pop-up studio. At that time, 15 songs were captured and immortalized in the Canterbury foothills of the Southern Alps, Aotearoa (New Zealand). Only too well, The Bats know the possibilities, potentialities and sonic vistas that arise when one takes the reins for the recording process in a beautiful place that's on home turf.
Robert Scott, on the making of Foothills has said "Time marches on... finally, we found a gap in our busy lives and chose a week to convene. We found a house that is usually inhabited by ski field workers — Kowai Bush, near Springfield about an hour west of Christchurch and of course nestled in the foothills of the mighty Southern Alps. The songs had been written, demo'd and arranged for some time, but still with a little room for trying things out in the studio. Many carloads arrived at the house, full of amps guitars and recording gear, we set up camp and soon made it feel like home; colored lights, a log fire, and home cooked meals in the kitchen. We worked fast, and within a few days had all the basic backing tracks done, live together in one room, the way we like to do it - it's all about 'the feel' for songs like ours."
The Bats must hold a record in New Zealand (perhaps the whole world, once The Rolling Stones throw in the towel) as a band that has survived with the same line-up for 38 years. No split-ups, no reforming for nostalgia's sake.
So far, half the band have spots in The New Zealand Music Hall Of Fame, vocalist/ guitarist Robert Scott (The Clean) and bassist/producer Paul Kean (Toy Love), and it's only a matter of time before lead guitarist Kaye Woodward and drummer Malcolm Grant find themselves in there too. The four-piece has created twisted wistful folk, psychedelic rock, bouncy twee pop, and everything in between, but whatever the genre, their sound is always distinctively, unmistakably The Bats.
The World that IS and IS NOT is the enigmatic title of My Cat Is An Alien's new "concept album."
The World that IS and IS NOT is the existential reflection of MCIAA on 2020: a pandemic scenario where everything seems to vanish into the Void.
Explicitly dedicating this new studio album to the dark ages we're all living through, more than ever MCIAA stand strong to claim that Music and Art are the primary and true "cure" for spiritual disquiet and moral despair.
Thus the music herein is highly spiritual, sensitive, soft and warm… surprisingly lyrical. Its celestial melodies cannot but induce to transcendental meditations. MCIAA offer a one-way ticket to still unexplored otherwordly territories and better realms of space-time consciousness.
An inborn wisdom that Roberto Opalio resumes in his poem handwritten on the album insert: "In the endless vortex of No-Thing / […] I still do believe / Art can save my Spiritual Noise soul."
Produced by MCIAA in multi-dimensional, fully dynamics-frequency spectrum "STEREOALIEN FIDELITY."
Released on the renewed Opax Private Press imprint in a first, ultra-limited and hand-numbered edition of 100 Silver Color Vinyl LPs, housed in full-color printed jacket with folded cover/insert on Italian fine art linen textured 250g cardboard. Includes a 70x50 cm Poster. Cover and poster painting by Roberto Opalio. Design by MCIAA.
Dan Barrett— the man behind Have A Nice Life, Giles Corey, and Enemies List Home Recordings— has unveiled details for his sophomore album as the electronic project Black Wing. Due out December 11th on The Flenser, No Moon is a gorgeous chillwave/post-punk record with nine bleak yet blissful songs and is a fitting close out to the year 2020.
Written over the course of the last few years, with about half of the songs penned over the last six months (mostly due to pandemic "free time"), No Moon is a heart-wrenchingly honest outpour of emotion. Throughout the writing process, Barrett was having recurring dreams and felt a strange sense of timelessness — that, combined with quarantine is what he simply describes as "a weird experience." Barrett explains, "Quarantine was profoundly isolating. With writing this record, more than anything I just wanted to prove to myself that I could make something out of it. That ended up being a lot of songs about feeling isolated, a lot of 'trapped in my own head' moments. I think that was a lot of people's experience as well."
Barrett formed Black Wing in the mid-2010's as an opposite to his project Giles Corey; where Giles started as 'only acoustic instruments allowed,' Black Wing started with only digital instruments. In 2015, Black Wing released its first proper full length, …Is Doomed, to great critical acclaim. Much like that album, No Moon bubbles with electronica and indie-pop with earworm melodies and affecting lyrics. But No Moon is a transitional change from Black Wing's debut; the songs here are a bit more experimental and there's a significantly wider emotional range to them.
The nine new tracks on No Moon are gloomy yet glorious, heavy while ambient, overwhelming yet alluring, and offer an earnest and honest look into one's self during such a troubling and confusing year — something we all can relate to.
Montreal-based guitarist and designer Eric Quach (Thisquietarmy, Hypnodrone Ensemble, Destroyalldreamers, others) teams up with drummer and artist Michel « Away » Langevin of progressive sci-fi metal legends Voïvod. That these two world-traveling Canadians crossed paths is tremendously fortunate. The Singularity, Phase I blends the immersive rhythms of Langevin superimposed on the myriad techniques of guitar master Quach, crossing musical genres to create a hypnotic and thrilling tribal experience. The expert ear of Quach, the practiced hands of Langevin and the combined musical knowledge of the duo bring to life a fruitful mind-bending soundscape of heavy motorik rhythms, prolonged drones, futuristic sound effects and frenetic improvised jams.
No song is less than five minutes, allowing time for listeners to be grabbed by each piece's particular ambience, generally a flurry of metal and drone that frequently interjects kosmiche elements. Langevin’s rhythmic creativity offers evocative tribal grooves, knowing exactly when to push furiously or break the moment with scattered rhythms, skillfully blending or gracefully opposing Quach’s effects. Their expert chemistry resembles a murmuration of starlings that can turn and change direction at any time, while remaining coordinated in flight. Practiced, yes, but with raw energy.
"Alpha 0000 0011" is a beautiful example of kosmiche homage, built up on layers of a steady, simple underlying rhythm that allow Quach to overlay a dreamscape of ethereal guitar on top and building towards a commanding richness, to suddenly cut into silence. There is a terrific balance between guitar and rhythm throughout the album, and it can be difficult to know whose influence is greater on each track. "Beta 0000 0100" seems to be a track in which Quach serves as backdrop, providing a consistent drone while Langevin's rhythms and space electronics step to the forefront. The symbiosis is masterful, allowing each musician to build up with increasing urgency before Quach pulls back, allowing Langevin to showcase his magical drumming before seamlessly running into the massive closer, "Beta 0000 0101."
The legacy of both is well represented, sounding vibrant and invigorating, nothing quite like Voïvod nor exactly like Thisquietarmy. If the song titling suggests an alpha numeric range of numbers, it appears there is more to come. "Phase I" of the title suggests that is the case. This is potent music to absorb, as well as be absorbed in. The Singularity, Phase I is an excellent beginning for what promises to be an incredible series.
The latest from Mexico City’s Mint Field brings members of Ulrika Spacek on board. The album achieves a gentle balance between fever and dream that shows growth over the predecessor’s fuzzed-out psychedelia. Sentimiento Mundial allures with wistful, airy melodies that touch on multiple genres, working in moments of their usual dark subterfuge.
Originally a two piece, Sentimiento Mundial sees original founder Estrella del Sol (vocals, guitar) forming with Sebastian Neyr (bass) and drummer Callum Brown (Ulrika Spacek), and a rhythm section bolstered by collaborators Cathy Lucas (Vanishing Twin), and Nathan Pigott. Both Brown and producer Syd Kemp are members of UK space-gaze outfit Ulrika Spacek, whose presence served to add a more clean-cut and spiky edge to the band's sound.
The album begins deceptively sweet, del Sol’s dreamy vocals serving as the focal point, before launching into offbeat rhythms and dissonant melodies. Fuzzy atmospheric guitar passages are present, yet Mint’s Field’s penchant for heavily-laden effects is reduced in favor of clean, often feverish, guitar, offset by hypnotic motorik beats and repetitive rhythms that provide a dreamy consistency ("No te Caigas", "Contingencia").
Overall, the album sees the band moving in the direction of intelligent pop and away from guitar onslaught. This is not a hook-laden disc, choosing to captivate instead with clean guitar phrasing overlaid by angelic vocals ("Aterrizar," "Nuestro Sentido"), flirting with an interplay of airy sounds and darker, edgy moments ("Nadie te est√° Persiguiendo"). This is a rewarding creation, but prior fans may need more time to unravel the changes.
As the favorite son of the Berkshires region of Western Massachusetts, Josh Landes's Limbs Bin has been a consistently impressive amalgamation of full auto drum machines and harsh electronics. Unrelenting Barrage of Flowers and Amethyst Energy consists of two rather brief live sets recorded last year, the first at the Dayton Noise Symposium II in Ohio, the second at Mass Grind Violence in Providence, Rhode Island. Recorded three months apart, the vibe is certainly different from one show to the other, but both are consistently brilliant.
For the Dayton performance, Landes opens with a bleak bit of sampled dialog around the boredom and loneliness of office work before launching head first into blown out blasts of noise, max tempo drum machine programming, and aggressive, screamed vocals.This essentially sets up the rest of the sub-nine minute performance, with a multitude of brutal outbursts and then erratic, unpredictable pauses of silence in between.At the conclusion he dials down the drum machine a bit so it resembles an actual rhythm and allows the noise to stabilize somewhat into what feels like an almost conventional song structure.
The Providence show has a more relaxed mood to it, with even the recording capturing more of the audience between the explosions.Opening with feedback into overdriven machine beats and harsh screams, there is also more audience banter and interactions during those pauses.With these open bits, Landes spends a little more time introducing what are actually extremely succinct individual songs, in some cases barely a second long.In this, there are some distinct parallels with Bloodyminded’s live work, although the actual execution is somewhat different.The approach to structure and performance with Limbs Bin feels more like a deconstruction of the smaller scale punk show, while Bloodyminded tackles the traditional rock and roll world.
Two aspects stand out for me regarding this disc, and Limbs Bin’s work in general.First is that it exceptionally brutal sounding, even by noise and grindcore standards, but Landes never ends up in the world of "most extreme edgelord" garbage.The title of the album alone, Unrelenting Barrage of Flowers and Amethyst Energy certainly does not call to mind autopsy photos, misogyny, or serial killer lore.Instead, and much like the Incapacitants, the sound itself is the truly brutal element as opposed to teenager shock shenanigans.The songs that are introduced here have to do with the Berkshire region of Massachusetts, or the Angola rest area on the New York Thruway (and not in a cruising sort of context) though the lyrical content is anything but clear.
The second, and related to the first, is that his work is entirely fun.There is no macho posturing, no beard stroking artist pretense, just the sound of a person enjoying themselves on stage with a barrage of electronics.This especially comes through on the Providence show, with the closer to local crowd getting his references to Western Massachusetts and so on.Plus, it is the only noise/grindcore/noisecore recording I have ever heard to reference the classic Dragon Quest video game franchise, which is going to be an immediate plus.Pummeling, aggressive, yet engaging and affable, there is nothing like Limbs Bin out there, and that is a testament to his uniqueness.
Ana Roxanne's cryptically titled debut mini-LP was one of 2019's most pleasant surprises, as she masterfully wielded a minimal palette of hazy vocals, subtle instrumentation, and field recordings to construct a suite of songs that felt both remarkably intimate and completely untethered to conventional structure or contemporary trends. In fact, I suspect I could have been easily convinced that ~~~ was a highly coveted private press obscurity from the early '80s. This latest release (her first for Kranky) takes a somewhat different direction in some ways, but thankfully remains every bit as beguiling as its predecessor: the field recordings may be less prominent and Roxanne's previous impressionistic, amorphous structures have been largely replaced with more conventional shapes, yet the hooks are now stronger and the songs more memorable. That feels like a perfectly acceptable trade-off in my book. While I am historically dismayed when artists that that I enjoy move further away from the idiosyncrasies that made their early work so special, Roxanne proves herself to be the rare exception to that trend, as the best moments of Because of a Flower take the warmth and melodicism of ~~~ to some truly beautiful new heights.
I was both surprised and disoriented to learn that Roxanne apparently spent five years working on Because of a Flower, as it feels like a significant evolution from ~~~, yet it is entirely possible that some of these pieces were composed at the same time as her debut (or possibly even earlier).In a conceptual sense, however, it makes perfect sense that Roxanne may have been working on two noticeably divergent releases at once, as the two feel a lot like different chapters in the same abstract memoir.On ~~~, Ana's soundscapes seemed primarily inspired by warm feelings of nostalgia for her family and childhood.Because of a Flower, on the other hand, seems to be more thematically focused upon her intersex identity (and the more recent stages of her life).It would probably be extremely easy for a casual listener to miss that though, as she has an intuitive genius for incorporating those themes in subtle and oblique ways that enable her work to feel artistically honest and deeply personal, yet also resonate on a universal human level.For the most part, the album's more personal themes manifest themselves in repurposed textbook passages, "cinematic dialogue samples and castrati aria allusions."It was admittedly a bit of a surprise to hear found sounds borrowed from movies rather than the natural world, but she invariably makes very effective use of them (the endearing "tropical beach" ambiance of ~~~ does happily resurface on the album’s final two songs though).As enjoyable and evocative as Roxanne's choice of samples can be, however, the heart of this album is unquestionably the blearily gorgeous vocals that float languorously over dreamlike drones or melodic bass lines.
For me, the centerpiece of the album is the slow and sensuous "Camille," as Ana's voice soulfully coos and swoons over a backdrop of warm organ chords and an R&B-inspired drum machine groove.There are also some snatches of film dialogue thrown into the mix, which nicely enhances an already wonderful piece by adding a sharper and more unpredictable textural layer.While I tend to think of her work as vaguely "ambient" in nature, the addition of a beat suits her aesthetic extremely well.I suspect she would have a bright future as an arty outsider R&B artist if she wanted that.That said, her aesthetic works just fine without a beat as well, so there is no shortage of other highlights and they head in some unexpectedly varied directions.For one, "A Study in Vastness" is absolutely sublime, resembling a ghostly, deconstructed Enya with some dark and moody undertones lurking within its fog of blurred drones."Suite Pour L'invisible," on the other hand, is a bit more representative of the album's overarching aesthetic, as it is built from a warmly melodic and ringing bass motif enhanced by quietly twinkling guitar arpeggios.Musically, it calls to mind a classic 4AD sound akin to This Mortal Coil, but Roxanne's strain of Romanticism feels too simple, intimate, and spontaneous to warrant close comparisons to anyone else: she might be exploring similar moods and using similar instrumentation, but the casual naturalness of her vocals make almost everything she records sound uniquely her own.That makes sense, given her working method of "beginning with 'a drone element and a mood,' then intuiting melody, syllables, and lyrics incrementally, like sacred shapes materializing from mist."Her work has the effortless charm of an artist who is so full of life and so comfortable with singing that it is hard to imagine her ever making a vocal decision that does make a song instantly better (presumably because she has reached an entirely post-decision plane of pure instinct).     
I would be remiss if I did not also single out the divergent instrumental "---" as another gem, as it unfolds as a gently pulsing and dreamlike reverie of burbling electric piano that organically shapeshifts into fresh tendrils of melody.The remaining three pieces are certainly likable as well, but they are a bit more atmospheric in tone, arguably functioning more as integral parts of the album's overall arc than as individual highlights.I am tempted to describe Because of a Flower as Roxanne's "singles album" and ~~~ as its more abstract and New Age-inspired counterpart and that would not be an objectively misleading characterization.However, each has at least one piece that muddies the waters enough to elude such easy generalizations.On Flower, it is the songs that begin and end the album that feel like the connective tissue linking it thematically and compositionally with its predecessor.Between those two poles, however, lies quite a wonderful four-song streak that feels like something new.A small part of me admittedly wishes that there were more "songs" as tightly crafted and rhythmic as "Camille," but I suspect that is just the lingering part of me that craves familiarity.That part of me needs to shut the hell up, as Roxanne has done a superb job of carving out her own quiet niche in an oft-overwhelming cultural landscape and Because of a Flower is a lovely and beautifully crafted album.As an absorbing and thoughtfully sequenced whole, I suppose it surpasses the more uneven ~~~, but the two albums feel enough like complementary halves of the same vision that choosing a favorite feels like missing the point entirely.
Yellow6, the solo project of British guitarist Jon Attwood, first came to my attention through his collaboration with Thisquietarmy for the 2011 album "Death Valley," but Attwood himself has been active in since 2000. Recorded between April and June of 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown, the title of his latest is an indicator of the eerie lack of traffic, people in the streets, and vapor trails from air traffic from a neighboring airport. The fresh time to reflect and social distance—along with the purchase a new guitar—inspired Attwood to create nine pieces of beautifully layered electric guitar and effects that instill calm, to be enjoyed as ambient background music or appreciated for the guitar craft. The sparse, delicate sounds parlay a stillness of these strange times; a stillness that can be both disturbing and enriching, and wrapped in contemplation.
The nine parts are broken fairly evenly by a triptych of sorts in "Unbroken Sun (one)," "Unbroken Sun (two)," and "Unbroken Three (three)." Coming in as the three briefest ones, they each tend to meander, serving as a break and bookends to the album. With a bright, partly cloudy sky on the cover, I prefer to think of these as connectors, much in the same way the sun rises and sets each day, hence unbroken. Yet, while the sun may be unbroken, humanity is not, and the feeling is evident in the second track "Safe." With drums set low and back into the mix, the track offers cascading electric guitar, offering a steady and "safe" repetition of rhythm and comforting guitar work that results in a feeling of being surrounded in something warm and consolatory. The track had me visualizing kicking back in a recliner, feet up near a warm, crackling fire, immune to whatever the world was doing outside—a feeling I no doubt share with many others.
Other tracks are like-minded, with Attwood taking a layered and atmospheric approach, if not quite as settling as "Safe." With the exception of the aforementioned "Unbroken Sun" theme, all of the tracks go well on past seven minutes each, but every minute is infinitely listenable with a rich variety of guitar, piano and effects. "Panam," the longest at 18:40, is a haunting standout track that starts mildly enough but builds on an underlying rhythm of a consistent yet irregular heartbeat through which the guitar strings resound. If sound could be matched to a star, then the resonance of Jon’s choice of notes would be akin to the shimmer and sparkle of stars through a cloudy night sky as guitar drone and plucked strings cut through a steady chorus of sad minor chords. The choice of title is apt, with "Panam" construed as "pan American" in this case, the sound feeling broad and full as it stretches over the length of the track—perhaps in the same way the pandemic has traversed borders and has a far-reaching impact.
This is music in which to get lost, but can easily be enjoyed as a focus. The majority of the music here is calm, but there are passages of heaviness. This heaviness is generally emphasized, then lifted by a follow-up passage of quietude, providing a sense of freedom and release. This is worthy listening for an escape from the heaviness of the new normal.
It began with Kwaidan, a simmering study on the lost art of Japanese ghost story-telling. Then there was Komachi, baptized in the earthly winds and static that define its comforting sonics.
On Kofū, Meitei masterfully closes his trilogy of lost Japanese moods with an engaging interrogation of artforms and aesthetics as a provocation — or, as fashioned in the album’s subtitle, a "satire of old Japanese aesthetics." Each entry's distinct flavor has earned Meitei acclaim for conjuring a bygone culture through his transportive form of ambient music. Kofū arrives as a deconstruction of this approach. With his first release on Kitchen, Meitei has quietly defied expectations set by his previous two albums, while continuing to challenge modern notions of Japanese sounds.
Once again, Meitei resumes his focus on a Japan that has long ceased to be. This time, Kofū is deliberately playful in bridging a sensibility that connects this imagined past to the present. Fractured piano chords are the first to greet you on "Kintsugi" before they make way for a spectral elegance that parades the haunted mask of Kwaidan on "Man'yō."
But like an ambient soothsayer schooled in the art of the 808s, Meitei quickly drives Kofū with propulsion on "Oiran I," which shares a sibling in Side B track "Oiran II." On both songs, he builds tension served up by flickering hip-hop rhythms — achieved by carefully processing old drum and metal sounds — with a subversive spirit unforeseen in any of his work thus far. Dissecting vocal recordings to the point of incomprehensibility, Meitei aims for something stirring beyond- words — not unlike J Dilla and his mountain of cut-up soul samples, or The Caretaker with decaying 78s. He abides by a principle attributed to the master Hayao Miyazaki: "Beyond logic speaks of human nature."
Kofū allows full immersion into fragments of the past without the trappings of nostalgia. The tracklist is denoted by prominent (and unseen) figures of this history. Tracks "Sadayakko" and "Otojirō" are named after renowned entertainers from the Meiji era, while "Nyōbō" is dedicated to a long-suffering line of working class women within a patriarchal Japanese society. The sounds of "Oiran," sharing the name of the title bestowed upon courtesans, were sparked after learning about the treatment of red light district workers within this era. It paints a grim picture of baidoku (also known as syphilis) and its ravage spread.
These stories cloud the overall mood of Kofū, but Meitei takes a Mizoguchi-like approach to mould that unimaginable pain with tenderness. "Oiran I"'s hidden subtitle is Hana, and "Oiran II" is Shiokaze. As Meitei explains, "Hana means gorgeous and glorious. Shiokaze is the sea breeze — for her life." Tracks like "Urameshi-ya" and "Gen'ei" provide a meditative space amidst the turbulence, while "Shōnen" takes a turn for the cinematic. The eight-minute odyssey is engulfed by shadowy voice loops, mixed best for a headphone experience in a solitary setting.
Meitei bids farewell to an expedition first sparked by a passion for a long-forgotten cultural past. Kofū is a definitive conclusion with an open invitation to listeners from Japan and beyond — encouraging continued appreciation of this sacred part of history, wholly untethered from the world at large.