 Stomu
Yamash'ta started off as a child prodigy, beginning his solo career at
the tender age of 14 and winning accolades from such heavyweights as
John Cage. He's most widely known as a member/instigator of the
supergroup Go, which also included Steve Winwood, Tangerine Dream's
Klaus Schulze, and other luminaries. But where Go was orchestral
and smooth, "Red Buddha" is skeletal, primitive and abstract, written
mainly for percussion, and performed solely by its composer.
Percussion based music doesn't have to be rhythmic: the closest "Red
Buddha" gets to having a beat are the hand drums found in the beginning
of the piece, Yamash'ta instead filling the space with a toy chest of
different instruments, one set per side. As mentioned previously, it's
not easy music, and pulling a structure from the slowly brewing storm
isn't difficult so much as unnecessary. This isn't music you follow so
much as get lost in its sound, and Yamash'ta keeps his sonic
kaleidoscope shifting incessantly, offering a surprising array of moods
by simply rearranging the mix.
Side/part one is an evocative and somewhat startling blend of moods,
featuring such sounds as echo laden steel strings, a musical saw, the
aforementioned hand drums, and what sounds like the inside of enormous
steel barrels. Nothing seems to be particularly connected to anything
else: instead following its own chaotic path, but the overall effect is
nonetheless coherent and compelling. There needs to be some mention of
the recording, which captures the piece's reverberating depths with a
fidelity that begs for headphones. It's like a flock of surreal birds
escaping from a deep well, and the manic, primal howl of the climax is
truly harrowing in the best possible sense. Comparison's to Pink
Floyd's "Meddle" (the song, not the album) wouldn't go amiss, as the
sense of dislocated free fall is remarkably similar, especially
considering the radically different instrumental approach.
Side two doesn't offer much new in terms of structure, but then, it
doesn't need to. Yamash'ta continues his theme by simply allowing the
assortment of instruments to express themselves as pure sound, not by
giving them routines and recognizable patterns (the instruments on side
two have a decidedly more tropical flavor, even if it doesn't come
anywhere near sounding tropical: steel drum, marimba, etc.) It's a much
louder piece, hitting a huge, crashing peak about halfway through,
afterwards drifting in a vague, sinister Twilight Zone of pings and
gently reverberating steel drum. But things pick up steam again, ending
in a clattering torrent whose abrupt end doesn't offer any sense of
finality. It all feels like a cycle, appropriately enough, waiting to
start its journey again.
After "Red Buddha," Yamash'ta would bring more theater into his work,
eventually making concept albums with the aforementioned Go and even
starting a Red Buddha Theater Troupe. "Red Buddha" itself was
composed for a Parisian theater, although whatever narrative it may
have been supporting is hardly necessary to get anything from this
album. It's most impressive elements are the gorgeous sonic depth, well
captured in this recording, and the simple act of taking what is
essentially ordered chaos and affording it a laser sharp focus that one
would think impossible from what appears to be structureless
clattering. It's not structureless, of course, but you don't need
patterns to enjoy "Red Buddha," just a willingness to be wrapped in
sound, and a good set of headphones.
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Available through Amazon US
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