| Galax - Never Ending Space Trackin' |
| Where
did this kind of stuff come from? This echoey, trippy, weirdo stuff
that is immediately recognizable as representing the vastness of outer
space. There are specific musical precedents, of course: Louis and Bébe
Baron, whose "Forbidden Planet" soundtrack has remained far more
unsettling than even the well regarded film it accompanied. Then
there's Delia Derbyshire, she of the "Dr. Who" theme and the early
electronic psych band White Noise. In more rock-centric terms, there's
Krautrock, (aka the more politically correct "Komische Rock," i.e.
"Space Rock,") the German movement of the late 60s and early 70s whose
bands (Can, Ash Ra Tempel, etc.) made liberal use of inner/outer space
in their typically expansive, extended compositions. Wherever it
originated, it's powerful stuff, evoking alien landscapes and
unimaginable distance, fertile ground indeed for the imaginative
listener. That brings us to Galax, a one off project featuring electronics wizard Hiroshi Hasegawa (C.C.C.C, The Incapacitants) and Keiichi "Mandog" Miyashita, avant garde guitarist extrordinaire. Miyashita has worked with such Krautrock luminaries as Guru Guru's Mani Neumeier, but even that connection doesn't explain the sheer trippiness of "Never Ending Space Trackin'," as perfect an example of Space Rock as you'll find. It's rich stuff, but it's not complicated: Hasegawa blankets the sky with endless blips, squelches and twinkles, drenched in reverb and totally free of traditional structure. Nestled in this warm blizzard of sound is Miyashita's tape delayed guitar, occasionally pushing against the sound with a gentle pressure, but just as often getting lost in it. It's blissfully escapist, a free form meditation on all things sci-fi-trippy. "Secret Method Of The Galactic Universe" (the titles give it away) begins with Hasegawa's torrential howl, quickly morphing into hyperactive robot noises as Miyashita's placid guitar draws echo drenched vapor trails. Once the template's set, it doesn't deviate, nor should it. "Acid Forest In The Space Mountain" (heh) is somewhat softer, but generally, yeah, it sounds like that title. When Acid Mothers Temple's Hiroshi Higashi guests on "Mysterious Smile Of A Buddhist Image," the extra layer of electronics is simply consumed in the pillow of sound, adding to it without substantially altering it. Music to get lost in. Galax is a clear case of love it or hate it. Those with a soft spot for a 70 minute, three track rumination on all things space will find plenty to love, but there's not much in the way of build, release, or anything that normally acts as a signpost for progression within a composition. "Never Ending Space Trackin'" is comprised of three blocks of sound that are huge sounding, but don't "go" anywhere. That's fine: this is music for inner exploration, not for getting from point A to point B. The listener will pretty much know in the first minute whether it's for them or not, but for those who are attuned to Galax's wavelength, it's a pure a distillation of the space rock aesthetic as you'll find. |