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hail that most 70s of group formats, the blues based power trio. The
movement might have started in the 60s with bands like The Jimi Hendrix
Experience and Cream, but once the psych backed off and the blues came
forth to fill the void, power trios were pretty much everywhere in the
early 70s, from Detroit's Grand Funk Railroad, to England's Budgie and
Texas' ZZ Top, they were everywhere, and they always seemed to draw
from the same well.
Naturally, Japan was anything but immune: the utterly nuts Speed, Glue
and Shinki, for one thing. There was also Too Much, a band formed by
The Helpful Soul's Junio Nakahara after he witnessed the arrival of
loud, dirty blues at a Japanese rock festival called...Too Much. Hmm.
Nakahara changed his name to Tsutomu Ogawa, and recruited Shuye
Kobayashi, Masayuki Aoki, and vocalist Juni Lush to explore the newly
fertile area on display at the festival from which he took his band
name.
Astute readers will have no doubt noticed that the above paragraph
contains four names which, one would reasonably assume, disqualifies
this band from power trio status. And technically speaking, that's
correct. That, I humbly assert, does not matter: wherein the above
power trios featured one or more members who sang and played at
the same time, Too Much feature the classic power trio lineup plus a
dedicated vocalist. This isn't splitting hairs: the majority of Too
Much's sole, self titled album fits the trio mold so completely in
terms of sonic power, inspirations, attack, approach, and any other
criteria you'd care to mention that splitting the instrumental/vocal
member in two doesn't really change anything.
So, all that's left to worry about is not what Too Much was about, but
whether or not they were any good. Any good? Let me put it this way:
opening track "Grease It Out" (damn, with that title they're already
awesome) manages to channel everything good about 1971. Dark, heavy,
dramatic riffs, a sinister plod that sounds hamfisted until you listen
closer, dry, direct production reminiscent of the first ZZ Top album,
you name it. It's proggy, but in that lunkheaded, fuzzy way that left
prog's overly intellectual component behind: these guys are about
kicking ass, not stretching the boundaries of musicianship and
composition. Which means that Too Much are not simplistic, but simple.
"Love Is You" might not make Robert Fripp quiver in his boots, but it
is a showcase how bands like this could up the complexity without
losing sight of the heavy. There's more than a little early Black
Sabbath (whose debut came out the year before) in this track, as well
as "Grease It Out." "Reminiscence" opens with a nod to that most Power
of Trios, Cream, essentially lifting the intro to "White Room" whole.
The playing is solid and powerful but never flashy, keeping things
basic even when the overdubs start. Outside of a decent but ultimately
unnecessary cover of "I Shall Be Released," and the final track, this
is beer drinking, no nonsense 70s blues rock, made to be played loud
and direct.
Even when things threaten to get all ethereal (that epic, 12 minute
closer "Song For My Lady (Now I Found,)") simplicity is still key.
That's not easy, as they've got flute, mellotron, strings, and more
than a little of the title track of "The Court Of The Crimson King" in
there. No matter: where other bands would add superfluous parts, gear
shifting structures, and a kaleidoscope of sounds, the track never
strays from the mood established in the first few bars. The band's true
strength, at the end of the day, is economy, even when using the tools
that would, with the "progression" of prog, eventually choke many bands
attempting to mine similar territory. It's not 12 minutes because
they're trying to impress you, it's 12 minutes because it needs to be
12 minutes. Nothing kills music like this as fast as that other 70s
mainstay, bloat, and Too Much mercifully have none.
Too Much broke up Too Soon, leaving this one album and not much else.
It may not be the stupendous lump of Neanderthal clunk of Speed, Glue
and Shiki's "Eve," or the mind bending typhoon of The Flower Travellin'
Band's "Satori," but it is a similarly excellent slab of proof of what
one can do with guitar, bass, drums, vocals, and the truth. Too Much
were a one off with legs, and their sole gift to the world is as potent
as its better known contemporaries, Japanese or otherwise.
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