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| Boris and Michio Kurihara - Cloud Chamber |
| He
really should just join the band already. Michio Kurihara is a busy guy. The list of bands he's been an integral part of reads as a virtual who's who of Japanese psych: White Heaven, Ghost, Onna, and Stars, to start with. Although "Cloud Chamber" is only his second official collaboration with Tokyo band Boris, he's been on every major Boris release since their initial partnership, 2004's excellent "Rainbow." Hey, he's already a full member in two ongoing major bands right now (Ghost and Stars,) why not a third, particularly since the third band in question has featured him so prominently? It remains to be seen if Kurihara and Boris will ever make it official, but it is worth noting that "Cloud Chamber" isn't new material: it was recorded back in 2004, at the same time as "Rainbow" (although it is not the two bonus tracks from that album's vinyl release.) Fans of "Rainbow" are cautioned, however: that effort's wide ranging, but nonetheless sharp focus is not repeated here. "Cloud Chamber" is not a song based effort, but rather a 36 minute improvisation that brings to mind Boris' monstrous "The Thing Which Solomon Overlooked" series. When speaking of his "comeback" album "Tilt," the legendary Scott Walker noted that that album's bleak soundscape had no compression. This meant it was difficult to luxuriate in its darkness: lush, haunting passages were torn apart by sudden, jagged shards of noise in ways that made the listener jump out of their skins. He said the listener would just "have to be brave." Although the shifts in tone are not as whiplash sudden as those on "Tilt," the same principle applies to "Cloud Chamber," as it delights in pulling the rug out. It starts off placid enough. Part one initially sounds like a build up to "Rainbow's" dusty, Ennio Morricone-esque "Shine," all ominous swirls and lonely twang, like two gunfighters facing off in a deserted town. Then the bottom drops out at the 4 minute mark, and the track becomes a dark freefall into echo, sitar like tones, and a looming nastiness that doesn't waste any time building up to a harsh buzz that dive bombs its way across the speakers. That said, there's something oddly soothing in its dissonance. Like the aforementioned "Thing Which Solomon Overlooked," it creates an enveloping space that invites lights out listening for those with strong constitutions. Throughout, there are subtle electronic distortions that can be easy to miss, but are highly effective when they emerge. It sounds as if it were coming from a space ship. The electronics slowly make their way to the front of the mix in Part two, invoking Boris' past work with noise legend Merzbow in its spiky, ear splitting din. The intriguing this about "Cloud Chamber" is that Kurihara is still audibly present. A big part of his talent lies in his attack, his placement of notes in just the right place at the right time, a skill that necessarily doesn't have much to work with in a ambient situations. But he nonetheless leaves a distinct, if difficult to pin down mark, steering the wall of sound into the same sharp but seductive area that has become his signature. Boris' ambient works, with or without collaborators, have always worked best when they create a tangible sonic space, which is exactly what "Cloud Chamber" does. But while it's still true that the space is the draw, like Walker's "Tilt," it's not an easy place to visit. |