Available at gemm
(check different titles, as shown below)
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Fucked Up And Naked - Le 12 Mars 1977 à Tachikawa
(check different titles, as shown below)
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Fucked Up And Naked - Le 12 Mars 1977 à Tachikawa
| Les Rallizes Dénudés - Live '77 |
| There
are cult bands, and there are cult bands. While the term "cult" might
not have a precise definition in terms of rock music, there are some
more or less dogmatic criteria: the artist must be uncompromising,
under appreciated, have an extremely strong individual aesthetic, and
above all, must not be commercially successful. And although it's not
always a requirement, it never hurts to have a contrary nature and a
touch of mystery. Takeshi Mizutani, main force behind Les Rallizes Dénudés, has all of the above and then some. He used a French name and Japanese lyrics in the late 60s, a time when the vast majority of his peers were doing everything in English. He was obsessed with the granddaddy of all cult bands, The Velvet Underground, at a time and place that it was virtually impossible to find, let alone hear, their music. And, most importantly (in the artistic sense, at least) he wrapped his gentle, sweet songs in a thick wall of distortion and echo that rendered them impenetrable to all but the most determined listeners. Now, of course, the Velvets did that as well, but not nearly to the degree that LRD display on the "bootleg or not" album "Live '77."* At first blush, distortion is all you hear, a torrential outpouring of absurdly saturated, overdriven feedback that makes the Jesus and Mary Chain's "Psychocandy" sound solo acoustic. It's a wrapping that can and will drive many listeners away immediately, hitting high pitched tones that will set every dog on the block's ears on edge. But, like most cult artists, it's precisely this initially off putting element that gives the music it's allure. Shrill as it is, LRD is headphone music, and when minds are left open and ears are acclimated, a surreal, violent, yet tender universe unfolds. "氷の炎" ("Flames Of Ice," which is about as apt a description of LRD's music as you're likely to find) is like being locked in a small room that somehow contains a hurricane. Billions of tiny shards whirl around at a dizzying rate, creating a sound that's both impossibly huge and oddly claustrophobic. Hearing the waves upon waves of increasingly hostile feedback is oddly soothing, like the sound of an enormous waterfall. "夜、暗殺者の夜" (Night Of The Assassin") adds, improbably, a bouncy Motown bass line to the mayhem. The noise isn't the only thing that challenges. Mizutani's voice is a wounded howl, a cry of pain that doesn't hit notes so much as desperately reach for them, wailing in a pit of despair. This double album closes, appropriately enough, with "The Last One," a slow, churning dirge that pummels the listener into submission over its 20 minute running time. LRD fans tend to view this release as the definitive one, even as countless different versions surface in an endless loop of questionable legitimacy and sound quality. It's seen three issues (alternate artwork and titles shown to the left,) and stands as both the starting point and the last word. It's also not the kind of thing one can listen to casually: inattentive listeners will get little more than white noise. It's a textbook case of a "grower," and when it grows, it will take you places you didn't know you wanted to visit. |