| Morita Doji - Live At St. Mary's Cathedral,
Tokyo |
| Morita
Doji inhabits a headspace somewhat similar to that of Nick Drake. While
her life didn't end in tragedy (she simply retired and shunned the
spotlight, which still gives her a strong mystique,) the sense of
overwhelming melancholy ensures that fans of the one will find
something to like in the other. The similarities being what they are, Doji has one major difference: the sadness doesn't let up. Drake would occasionally find himself couched in sounds that let the light in, albeit only on the surface. Doji is relentlessly downbeat, emoting fear, sinister atmosphere, ghostly regret, and sadness, never emerging from the pitch black world she evokes. Of course, that makes her work a love it or hate it proposition: nothing this intense will leave anyone unmoved. But as such, she is one of the great hidden treasures of Japanese music. No one has nailed any aesthetic more completely than she has, and the fact that it's immediately accessible (everyone from age 10 to 100 will know exactly where she's coming from in the first 30 seconds) makes a strong case for genius. All of this without understanding the words. One stumbling block for Japanese folk is the form's inherent reliance on storytelling, an element that obviously suffers from language barriers. However, no understanding of Japanese is necessary to understand that opening track "ぼくたちの失敗," ("Bokutachi No Shippai") is about regret (it translates into "We Failed," in case you're wondering.) Doji's most famous song, it starts with a gentle, ghostly piano part, soon melding with her fragile, echoey, sad little girl vocals. When the arrangement opens up, even the (relatively) bright strings are drenched in sadness. And that's the happy song. The remainder of "Mother Sky" never strays far from that sonic template: acoustic guitar, weeping strings, piano, and Doji's tragic, crying ghost of a voice. Bass and percussion are mostly absent, excluding the final track, "今日は奇跡の朝です" (translates roughly into "This Morning Is A Miracle.") Don't let the optimistic sound of that translation fool you: while it's by far the most energetic track on here, it's the energy of a doomed soul, rushing back into the darkness. Angry, spectral backing vocals straight from an Ennio Morricone spaghetti western soundtrack wail as plaintive violins slash through what small shred of hope might remain. With all the above talk of darkness, it bears mentioning that Doji's work is never less than absolutely beautiful. The pain is a broken but noble pain, the darkness is that of a spectacular Gothic cathedral. It's also enormously cinematic: had the occasion arose, Doji could have scored such classic Mario Bava ghost stories as "Black Sunday" or "Lisa And The Devil" without the slightest aesthetic adjustment. Her work is unfortunately out of print at the moment: CD copies of "Mother Sky" are hovering around the $80 range in internet auctions. So while we apologize for whetting your appetite for something so hard to come by, the word needs to get out. Japanese skills or no, anyone with a taste for melancholy will do no better than this. Recommended. |