Joji
Yuasa fits squarely into the "experimental" side of this site. His work
is not actually rock, but classically based experimental music, often
using electronics, tape manipulation, and other non traditional
elements to create harrowing auditory soundscapes. His decades long
career is far too involved to go into here, but high points would be
working with the legendary Toru Takemitsu, as well as teaching in the
United States and Japan.
"Japanese Electronic Music Volume 1," as one might ascertain from the
title, is not strictly an album, but a collection of Yuasa's electronic
pieces. The first, 1961's "Aoi No Ue," is based on a character in the Tale Of Genji, an 11th century classic of Japanese literature that is arguably the first novel. Yuasa took the text of a
Noh play
about the character and buried it in a deep well of electronic
manipulation, assorted noises, and dark atmosphere, creating a
nightmarish, ghostly world that requires no understanding of Japanese
to get lost in. Yuasa had three Noh actors (who also happened to be
brothers) recite the text in the Noh style, resulting in stretched,
guttural, almost tortuous readings that are unsettling all by
themselves. Taking these readings as his starting point, Yuasa
manipulated and stylized the voices even further, slathering them in
echo, twisting them with electronic effects, then adding a list of
sounds both musical and environmental: vibraphone, running water, bird
sounds, etc.
All that technical information may be interesting, but how does it
sound? The world of "Aoi No Ue" is, to 2008 listeners, simultaneously
chilling and retro, like the soundtrack of "Forbidden Planet" with less
flash and more foreboding. Serious as its execution was, it is
comprised of many sounds that will remind modern listeners of low
budget, late night horror films, the kind that managed to have a
powerful degree of menace despite poor acting and questionable special
effects. This, it must be noted, is far from a liability for Yuasa's
piece: it's a profoundly compelling thirty minutes, packed with
constant surprises. It's tempting to think of it as a ride through a
particularly demented haunted house, one that is less "fun" than
immensely distressing, as unknowable mysteries swoop in from murky,
cobweb strewn corners. Everything is in Japanese, of course, but not
knowing the narrative frees the listener to substitute their own
imagination for the meaning of the text, and as any writer or director
will tell you, what your imagination comes up with will always be more
disturbing than anything that can be explicitly shown (or explained.)
The atmosphere is so strong that, even without a present narrative, it
still has a lurching, forward momentum. At the fifteen minute mark, all
three voices suddenly converge in spontaneous, bone chilling unison,
peaking in a psychedelic, shrill cry that may be human...or may not,
like a Greek chorus from some kind of surreal, theatrical Hell. Films
such as the excellent "Carnival Of Souls," or the artier but
nonetheless equally creepy films of Jean Cocteau's Orpheus Trilogy
would have fit right in with "Aoi No Ue's" chilling aesthetic.
Exhausting as "Aoi No Ue" is, it's not the only piece on the CD. Next
comes "My Blue Sky," a piece from 1975 and Yuasa's last electronic
piece not done entirely through computers. Where "Aoi No Ue" used the
human voice in conjunction with other natural sounds, then later
manipulated and distorted them, "My Blue Sky" is pure electronics,
manipulated in purely technical ways. In other words, it's "untouched"
by human hands. But the differences in methodology and
time (there's fourteen years between the two works) does not
translate into an especially changed ambiance: presumably, Yuasa pared
these together due to their similarly of tone. Much of "Aoi No Ue's"
above description similarly applies, save removal of the human
elements. The title "My Blue Sky" is ironic: it's not just sonically
dark, it sounds like rain: minuscule, echo laden pings that are
occasionally overwhelmed by buzzing floods of sound, like tidal waves.
The piece is (perhaps unsurprisingly) more sterile than "Aoi No Ue,"
seeming to exist in a distant, lifeless world. It's an abstract,
considerably less commercial cousin to such then contemporaries
Tangerine Dream and Cluster, with less spectacle and more inner space.
As you might guess, "Japanese Electronic Music Volume 1" isn't for
everyone. It demands too much attention to be background music, and its
relentlessly somber mood, which borders on the macabre, can make it too
intense for lights out listening. But these two works are far too
intriguing to be ignored, and comes highly recommended for anyone who
wants to know what musical forms
real psychedelia can take.
---
Available at Weirdo Records
