Available
at Amazon Japan
| The Flower Travellin' Band - Made In Japan |
| Anyone
who has spent any time digging into Japanese rock history knows
"Satori," the Flower Travellin' Band's second album. There are several
good reasons for this, chief among them being the sheer out there
quality of the music: Hideki Ishima's snarling guitar comes off like
some kind of Zen dive bomber, Joe Yamanaka's vocals virtually define
high powered machismo, and the rhythm section of Jhun Kozuki and Joji
Wada pull the rug out from under unsuspecting listeners with chugging
beats that still excite and confound over 35 years later. "Satori" may be a Buddhist term meaning "enlightenment," but even with that, and having a name so evocative of peace, love, and flower power, The Flower Travellin' Band could really be a downer. An often thrilling downer, to be sure, but man they could get dark (let it not go unnoticed that they are the first band to do a Black Sabbath cover, seriously reworking that band's theme song on their debut "Anywhere.") So while many people consider "Satori" to be the band's peak, a peak of a totally different kind can be found on "Satori"'s followup, "Made In Japan." "Made In Japan" is, hands down, the darkest album FTB ever made. Once the listener gets past a rather odd opening track (a happy sounding radio ad, advertising one of the band's gigs in Canada,) they're instantaneously plunged into a well of doom that makes contemporary Sabbath albums sound perky by comparison. Yes, other FTB albums had their share of darkness, but nowhere was it so complete, so oppressive, so relentless. The first proper track, "Unaware," starts off with melancholy guitar that quickly turns threatening, with a very condemned sounding Yamanaka going from mournful mode to shrieking in pain mode as the song builds to a apocalyptic crescendo. It's The Who's "Behind Blue Eyes," minus the redemption. The doomed soul gets another airing on the more or less self explanatory "Hiroshima," a rather odd track which sees the band recycle the music from "Satori, Part 3," and add a whole new context that makes Ishima's trademark guitar all the more ghoulish. It bears noting that Ishima's guitar can buzz and twitch in ways that Western guitarists never touched. Whereas Tony Iommi took the blues and morphed it into a kind of occult boogie, and Jimmy Page covered it in testosterone and bravado, Ishima takes the blues and turns it in on itself, all serpentine and mysterious, with an intensity that is still startling now. It's no surprise that he later moved to the sitarla, a custom instrument that splits the difference between guitar and sitar. Where "Satori" earned his status as a solo guitar God, his work on "Made In Japan" shows he could shine in the service of a song as well. The uncomfortable rhythm of "Spasms" nails the song's feeling of full body paranoia, all soaked bedsheets and sleepless nights, culminating in a disorienting mess that's equal parts tribal thump and vintage King Crimson. It's a clear reminder of just how alien this band really was, while existing firmly within rock parameters. Not one member, not one element, was typical "rock," even by the expansive and ecumenical standards of the day, yet their music couldn't possibly be defined as anything but. The one bright spot...save the 30 second radio spot that opens the album...is "Heaven And Hell," a jarringly upbeat song that is catchy as Hell, if seemingly a bit out of place at first blush. Yet ultimately, it still fits, only to crash into final track "That's All," a funereal dirge where you can practically smell the incense. Despite the title, "Made In Japan" was actually made in Canada, with an unfamiliar producer and some confusion as to what exactly the band was trying to do. The uncertain atmosphere of the sessions comes through loud and clear in the uncertain atmosphere of the music, yet it's as focused as anything else in their (admittedly small) catalog. It takes talent to turn uncertainty into music this focused, and it must have been exhausting. Indeed, with the band's next and final LP, the underrated double disc "Make Up," the uncertainty would cause a worthy but nonetheless schizophrenic collection. The band would dissolve not soon after, leaving behind four thoroughly unusual albums, all infused with a sense of dread that was never as pronounced as it was here. Harrowing. |