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Blotto
Singles Collection 2004-2007 |
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Tracklist |
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01 - 500 Man-en
02 - Mugen
03 - Zushiki Man
04 - Ikusa
05 - Netsu Monogatari
06 - Taikai Zenten |
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Review |
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Even when the short-lived There Is a Light That Never Goes Out's only LP was released some seven-odd years ago, I could recognize they were different. While ostensibly categorizable as "screamo" along with the likes of Envy or Nine Days Wonder for their mix of choppy hardcore and just enough melody, they had a way of defying standards and expectations, providing the same full-throttle hardcore and emotional release without relying on familiar beats or cliches. While all those former contemporaries from the turn of the millennium have moved on to various disparate sounds in the meantime, none of them can approach the striking originality and vision of Z.
Made of up of several former TIALTNGO members including most recognizably lead singer and saxophonist Nemoto Jun, Z (the Japanese pronounce the alphabet letter Z as "Zet") uses its former band as a launching pad to reach a sound that is both reminiscent of and wildly different from its starting point. "500 Man-en" sets the score by opening with 30 seconds of clarion guitar distortion, saxophone and a wordless, ululating call before dissolving into a slinky, sinister bass & drum groove. The guitar and saxophone begin to riff and solo over it, not necessarily playing with anyone else but unable to escape or overpower the patient rhythm section. At two minutes, Nemoto lowers the sax and adds his voice to the mix, alternately crooning, pleading and shrieking in a high-pitched delivery, bursting into clear singing for an instant but ranting and spitting the next. For several minutes, the guitar, saxophone and vocals take turns seizing the attention, but despite some ferocious performances, at no point does the song truly let loose. After nine minutes, the drums and bass stop their rolling groove to let "500 Man-en" close with the same droning guitar, sax and yelling that opened it.
Between the avant-garde inflections, the in-the-moment improvisational nature of the performances, and the aggregate properties of all those conflicting layers of sound, there are plenty of conceits to discuss, but none quite so important as that of tension. Of the six songs on Mikabe, four have running lengths of nine minutes, occupying 80% of the album's playing time. All four of those songs have stubbornly patient rhythms that plod and stomp, subtly shifting on occasion but essentially always locked at the same pace, freeing the guitar and sax to wander and pursue seemingly random directions. Most of the longer tracks work because the lead musicians are so unpredictable and non-repetitive that they continue to command attention and refuse to let moments stagnate. Yet without climaxes, these epics soak up unresolved tension like sponges, unable to release the stress they create. The single release point to be found in Mikabe happens within the shorter "Zushiki Man," smack in the middle of the album. What starts with wild cacophonic sax and a comically primitive heavy metal riff eventually leads to a remarkably affecting and vivid zenith that could have been a long-lost TIALTNGO number. It's perhaps the only moment of the album that finds the entire band fully focused in perfect unison, and all the stronger for being unique among its surroundings.
Not content on merely slapping together a minimal package to get the music across, Z puts forth a very well-rounded and artistic presentation in all facets. The vinyl release comes packaged with a DVD of three songs filmed live, capturing their renowned incendiary live performance. The album recording is extremely crisp and bright, glossing over nothing and accentuating every vocal tic and guitar imperfection. But the confidence and personality oozing out of every pore of the album makes it clear that Z has hit upon a method to render mistakes obsolete: by composing in the concrete rather than the abstract, allowing the performance to dictate the moment, and refusing to admit you can play anything wrong. |
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