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shintorikhazumi · 4 years

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I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 1: Three Sisters and The Bastard Father (An LWAxRWBYxStarira Crossover)

A/N: What’s crazier than me writing a crossover I can’t get out of my head at 2am while still having multiple wips?

Writing a three-way crossover until 3am!!! (Ended at nearly 5am tho)

GAHHHHH.

Btw, this is a non-magic au. So Diana has no magic, and Weiss has no… semblance. Yes. Because the world of RWBY always goes “???!! OHMG, magic?!” Quite ironically. They become impressed at people turning into birds, but never flinch at Ruby who can separate herself on a molecular level. Sure.

I’ll be updating this sporadically, tbh. The updates will be as random as the coming of this idea. I do like it a lot, so I look forward to working on it. Just have to prioritize the wips.

[DO CHECK OUT THE END NOTES FOR SOME OF THE AU DETAILS AND BACKGROUND]

Still, I couldn’t let the concept pass me by so…

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 1: Three Sisters and The Bastard Father

The wind blew strong outside, rain water cold against her bleeding cheek. The numbness was her only relief from pain nowadays. She’d lost count of how many bruises she’d gotten this week. If only her mother hadn’t passed… If only she hadn’t had a bastard of a father.

Then maybe Diana’s life would have been much better than the shell that it now was.

He left her and her mother just as she turned three, the only support she got in the form of random gifts and her financial needs. Her father was nothing of a father. The man that… helped make her was never there. He never showed he cared. Everything he gave her felt obligatory. She hated it. Heck, she didn’t even know his last name, much less remember what he looked like. She did try looking it up at some point, but it seemed as if he was some kind of bigshot she couldn’t name.

Neither her mom nor her aunt had divulged his identity, so she had long since drew a blank to the man’s identity. All she knew was that his name was ‘Jack’ or something of the sort. She had long since adopted her mother’s as it didn’t feel right to take the name of a man she never knew.

All she knew was that he was the cause of all her sorrows. That wretched man had left her and her mother to fend for themselves. Even though her mom was of a strong, well-known medical lineage here in Britain, the fact that she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock labelled her as a shame to the Cavendish name, and she had been cast out to a vacation home in the outskirts of the foreign country, Japan.

After her death, however, the women who Diana now saw as practically witches with how cruel and evil they were decided that because their blood ran through her, took over their small land that she and her mother had cried blood and tears to call their own, and exploited the underage girl, believing she might be of some use as a pawn at the very least, for the sake of the Cavendish name.

And she was. For some time, until she had injured her arm, and was no longer capable of becoming the kind of doctor they wanted her to be, her hand slowly losing its immaculate dexterity, becoming constantly shaky, rendering her as only half the worth she originally was, and thus completely useless besides being their punching bag. Quite literally.

Diana Cavendish found herself spending the better part of her life being abused, and hiding in tool sheds, and escaping her dreaded household at every waking moment, just as she was doing right now.

She hardly believed in any religion, but she found herself always praying to get away from this hellish nightmare. She’d hope that even if she only had a jerk of a father, he’d soon realize that she was his flesh and blood that needed saving.

A hard knock came on the wood of her shed’s door. She flinched, no sound escaping. Had they found her?!

“Miss Cavendish? Miss Diana Cavendish? Are you in here?” An unfamiliar voice called for her, bold and confident sounding, but with kindness and worry interlaced. She felt like it was someone she should respond to. The situation felt like it was some kind of divine calling she should answer.

With legs shaking, she stood up, unlatching the bar that held the door closed and stepping out into the now late night that reeked of hot pavement, rain having stopped while she was lost in thought.

A police officer, clad in uniform and raincoat smiled at her in pity. She was both grateful for- and hated- that gaze. She wished it had come sooner, but at the same time, she disliked being thought of as sad and pathetic.

“Your aunt and her family have been arrested, Miss.” Her ears perked up at the voice and the message they conveyed. Looking up from the ground, she stared into the truthful eyes of the cop. “You’re safe now.”

And she truly hoped she was.

//-//-//-//-//

“Weiss.”

At the mention of her name from that familiar voice, she rolled her eyes internally, holding in the urge to snap at the man she called ‘father’.

“What.”

Maybe her control wasn’t as good as she thought.

“Don’t give me that tone. I know you hate me, but I am still the one that raised you!”

“You mean, you’re the one that paid for me.” The ex-heiress pointed out. Her father gritted his teeth, frown deepening as he stepped forward in an attempt to exert his dominance.

Weiss only raised a brow in challenge.

“Anyway.” Jacques continued. Weiss would have smirked as he neither acknowledged nor denied her statement, but she felt it wasn’t the best time. “You are yet to turn twenty, and as you aren’t considered an adult yet-“

“But I’m nineteen, father.” Weiss stated, confused, her raised brow now raised in question. “I’m of legal age, to drink even.”

“Not in Japan you aren’t.” He replied with a smirk so evil, Weiss would have loved to slap it right off if her mind wasn’t thrown in a state of emergency, dreading whatever plans her father had. Even if she wanted to do as she pleased, she couldn’t completely go against him as she was at the moment. Their family name was too widespread and known in the business world, and she feared the consequences of running away from her father who currently had her safety- and practically her life- in the palm of his hand.

“What are you planning.” She narrowed her eyes at him, fearing for the worst, but expertly masking that fear.

“I’ll be sending you away, just as you’ve always wanted. I’ve prepared you an apartment close to a school of my choice to pursue the arts as you so strongly desired,” He spoke in a mocking tone. “And I’ll let you have your way there.” He ended with a smile that sent chills down Weiss’ spine. It sounded too good to be true, her dream being accepted like this. It was like a carrot on a stick being waved in front of her, only to always be out of reach.

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch? My, Weiss, my child, are you questioning your father’s benevolent heart?”

“What’s there to question?” Weiss shot back. “You don’t have one, now do you?”

She grinned at her little victory as she watched him gnashing his teeth, clearly seething in anger. Her smile dropped however as he gave her his own.

“I mentioned Japan’s legal age before.”

And Weiss already knew what he meant.

//-//-//-//-//

Life in Seishou had been the dream. Her first two years of high school were the peak of her life, she’d proudly say. She had wonderful friends and comrades who battled side-by-side, pushing one another to greater heights, and… she had someone she adored just a little more than friendship allowed. She had never admitted it, though. Then, a school back in Paris, the place where her mother had blossomed as an actress in the past, offered her a scholarship as an exchange student there.

And like she always did, Claudine excelled. So much so that multiple colleges offered her full rides to attend their institutions. Even highly prestigious universities. Her opportunities were broad, her future looking bright-

-And then news came. Her mother had fallen terminally ill.

She had to go back. She had to see her. She had to be by her side as long as possible.

She had to repay her for the love, for the dream she had given Claudine. She had to be the family her mother had been for her in the absence of a biological father she never knew, and the loss of her adoptive Japanese father at an early age. The lack of a male figure in their family was no cripple to Claudine, but she also missed the presence of the man she knew as her papa. She knew her maman missed him too.

So she had to do this for her mother.

She had to… in the event that… she’d lose her soon as well.

God forbid, Claudine prayed.

She had to return to Japan, study and… get a job, find some way to help her mother pay the increasingly expensive hospital bills, their little family’s saved money steadily disappearing.

She wondered if she should just drop school all together and apply for a troupe. Earn both money and experience.

She had enough rapport both in Japan and France. She could probably get enough opportunities, and she would succeed like she always had…

But…

There was something she wanted to see through, going into university.

When she left for Paris, she had gradually lost contact with all her friends, the culture slowly choking her time, eventually disconnecting them from her.

She’d receive and return the occasional message, but… things were different. She knew she’d drifted apart from everyone.

So, when she found out that they would all be attending the same Arts Institute, and when she had decided to return to Japan for her mother’s sake, she believed it wouldn’t all be that bad if she could apply for a scholarship to the same place, and possibly rebuild everything that was slowly crumbling away.

She wanted to be with everyone again.

And though she believed herself capable of attaining what she wanted on her own, she might require a little assistance from a miracle.

…

And a miracle- could she call this monstrosity of a situation that?- came in the form of a letter that had documents that signified she was the daughter of some ‘Jacques Schnee’ currently undergoing some sort of trial, and because of this, some of the accusations led to the revelation that he was neglecting a daughter, not sending support, and now as some form of bribery and compensation or whatever, he had paid the court to shut up about it if he took responsibility for her now.

Claudine scoffed in disbelief and utter disgust.

So this was her damned biological father? Some apparently bigtime tycoon who slept around and left a woman to fight for herself while carrying his- Claudine would suppose she was now an- illegitimate child.

This… was certainly news she’d never have expected in a million years.

She laughed mirthlessly at it all.

Well, at least her financial crisis had been averted. For better or for worse… she hoped it wasn’t the latter.

One upside was that she now had a clear ticket to that university she wanted to get into, it seemed. Her ‘father’ had taken the liberty of enrolling her there coincidentally. At least he could do something right, Claudine guessed.

“Well… I suppose it’s time to pack.” She sighed falling back onto her current apartment bed, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn’t so bad, maybe. Her newfound reality.

“Japan, I’m coming home to you.”

//-//-//-//-//

Diana glared at the letter in her hand angrily. There, in neat script, she saw the name of the man who had caused all her misfortune.

‘Jacques Schnee.’

“I want to hate you for as long as I live…” She gripped the paper so hard, creases were forming and the agent currently assigned to her worried she’d rip it into shreds. “What is this garbage? And why am I… Why can’t I… refuse… this ugly form salvation…” She choked on her sobs, a hand sympathetically rubbing her back.

“Let’s get you ready, Miss.”

Diana nodded in agreement.

-----

All her bags now in her hand after being dropped off by the cab driver, she stared in awe at the slightly modest, but clearly high-end house.

What the hell, did her dad just get her a house?!

Regardless of its size, couldn’t he have… like… gotten her an apartment or condo, at least?

How rich was this asshole father of hers? Was money the only good thing about him? Not that even that was necessarily a good thing.

With a groaning sigh, she unlatched the gate, walking up the little pathway. There were small flowerbeds already present around the yard, and decorations were tastefully placed.

It at least looked the part of cozy.

Once she got to the door, however, angry sounds coming from inside made her question that.

-Wait. This was her house, right?

Why would sounds be…

In a panic, she unlocked the front door with the key that came with the letter, bursting through it like a mad man, blue eyes flickering about the room, shocked to see two pairs of eyes, wide and intense, staring back at her with equal surprise.

“Who…”

“Oh, this is just great!!!” One with hair as white as snow exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in clear exasperation. “Now we have another one!” She began marching around the room, palms rubbing her face aggressively and scratching through her hair. “That little fuck-“

“-Language.”

“Shut up! I don’t even know who you are, and why you were in my house when I arrived. And you say you aren’t a burglar or whatever, but what is up with your sword play? Even if you were using the curtain pole. Are you some kind of spy or assassin the corporation has sent to finally get rid of me?”

“First of all, this is my house, not yours. And you came at me with a rapier!” A silver-gold blonde replied in equal stress. “You could have killed me!”

“I would never!” The first girl gasped with faux emotion. “At most, you’d lose an ear.”

“Umm…” Diana remained awkwardly fidgeting at the door, her usual bravery and confidence lost in the moment of shock.

“What.”

“I- I am simply here because… apparently my father purchased this place for me.”

Two pairs of eyes blinked once. Twice.

Then realization overtook them.

“Did you just say… father?” The golden-haired one stepped closer to her, a lot less hostile, but still aggressive looking.

“I- Um… yes?”

“Father… you say.” The lady with a rapier in her hand now approached Diana too.

These women were frightening, dear Lord. Diana slowly backed up, but stopped as her foot hit the bags she’d dropped in her frantic moments earlier.

“Can you tell me the name of this… ‘father’ of yours?” Rapier lady asked Diana who was beginning to wonder if she should look for a weapon to defend herself with.

“S-sure. His n-name is…”

“…”

“Is?”

“Fuck.”

Diana was not one to curse, but it surprised her that she did.

But she couldn’t help it, now could she? After all, her mind had been wiped clean as a white slate. A mental block was not what she needed right now, but just about anything involving that man seemed to bring about her misfortune.

At least the hands by which she’d die her early death were from very beautiful women it seemed.

She liked women, at least?

“Excuse me, um… are you alright?” Miss Golden hair was now very safe-looking and welcoming, Diana subconsciously stepped closer towards her.

“What is up with you? I just asked a question.”

“Perhaps, if you placed the sword down, and looked less like you were trying to murder her and look like you were willing to hear her out…”

Diana expected another heated retaliation, so it was a pleasant surprise to see the other woman sheath her weapon, and place it gently on a plastic-covered couch, clearly brand new.

“There. Happy?” She asked, glaring at the woman now gently holding Diana’s hand- and when had that happened?!

With a nod, the girl turned to Diana and asked again. “What is your father’s name. If you could tell us.”

Huh. She was a lot kinder than Diana had initially taken her for.

“I apologize. I can’t… remember at the moment. I- He hasn’t been around… for me until this point. I just… learned his name a few days ago but…” She hung her head in defeat, apologizing all the while. “Sorry I’m of no assistance to you…”

“No, it’s alright. Isn’t it?” The question was clearly not directed at her as she could only hear a grunt from the other side of the room.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Would your father’s name happen to be Jacques?”

At this, Diana lifted her head, another shocker delivered to her, hearing the familiar name, the cogs in her head clicking into place.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it! Jack, or Jacques or whatever. Snee? Shuni? Schee? I don’t quite remember, but something along those lines.” Diana found herself enthusiastic towards the prospect that some of her questions might be answered.

It seemed the other two shared the same sentiment.

“It’s Schnee.” The white-haired lady corrected, eyes furrowing, anger building up once more. “And… THAT BASTARD OLD MAN!” Grabbing her rapier she swung it around, probably to vent her anger. “He set me up! And what’s more…” She whipped her head about to carefully look the other two people over.

“What is it?” Diana said in a voice quite small.

“Seems he had big secrets to hide.” She sighed. Turning to the initial enemy she had, now turned… stranger? She wasn’t sure they were allies at this point, she stated rather than asked. “I guess it’s the same for you?”

The woman beside Diana nodded, expression looking a lot stiffer than her gentle demeanor as she dealt with Diana earlier.

“I see. I can’t believe this situation.”

“What do you me-“

A voice beside Diana delivered her fourth? Fifth? Sixth?- she’d lost count- Shocker of the day.

“Sisters. It seems we’re… sisters.” Turning to Diana, she held out a hand for a shake. “I’m Claudine.”

“I’m Weiss.” Was the grumble from the couch the woman had flopped on top of.

“…O-oh!” Breaking her stare from the hand, she looked into rose-red eyes. “And I’m-“

And the world suddenly turned black.

‘Hello, My Name is…

[Diana Cavendish]

[Weiss Schnee]

[Saijou Claudine]

-And it seems as though…

I have two sisters?!

A/N: If you’re asking, yes. Yes, Diana fainted.

Here are some details for this AU btw:

I’ve decided to make Jacques a half-Jap, half german.

So all of them have a quarter of that blood.

Diana is half brit, quarter jap, quarter german

Weiss is ¾ german because of her mom, and ¼ jap.

Claudine is half French, ¼ german, ¼ jap.

Also, if you want to know their ages, and their order, I decided it this way, and let me just quote how I typed it out in the raw idea draft.

“Diana April 30 16yro in anime 2017+3yrs (2020) she's 19 too omg jahahahaha (wrote this coz I’m currently 19 and was amused)

Clau august 1, 2001 19 at present

Weiss Currently 19 (in volumes 5-6) may 15th lmao hahsha. Perfect!!

Wtf Diana was the oldest? Hooo boi. I did expect and want Kuro to be youngest tho, tbh.”

Why their ages are pretty much the same will be mentioned next chap.

And that’s how it went. Decided with Weiss being the legitimate child coz Jacques was the only canonically mentioned dad between the three girls as far as I know. Or I just didn’t search enough.

But come on. I wouldn’t pass at the chance to beat up the dude in a fic so… hihi.

Feedback is super appreciated!

Thank you for reading!

~Shintori Khazumi

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thesunlounge · 4 years

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Reviews 353: Island Sounds from Japan 2009 - 2016

The newest release from Time Capsule carries the completely irresistible title of Island Sounds from Japan 2009 - 2016 and finds label co-founder Kay Suzuki curating a miniature compilation aiming to present a personalized window into modern Japanese music. I say personalized because, rather than seeking to reflect what is contemporaneously popular, this release celebrates what Kay calls the “Island Sound,” which comprises a sort of loose and tropically-minded ideology dedicated to expanding genre boundaries and fusing musical traditions from all around the world. Thus across the vinyl’s five tracks, we are treated to a Caribbean-tinged reggae rewrite of a legendary jazz classic, a polychromatic surf slide and Hawaiian psych groove out, a fried and freaky mutant disco stomper led by chugging funk basslines, slashing fuzz riffs, and southern blues slide guitars, and an elegiac fusion of Aino folk, Afrobeat, and dub exotica made in tribute to the profound grief experience by both Syrian refugees and oppressed indigenous cultures within Japan’s own borders. As well, Island Sounds from Japan 2009 - 2016 sits nicely alongside the recently released Oto No Wa: Selected Sounds of Japan 1988-2018 in the following sense. While many reissue labels have their sights set on Japan’s musical past, with most of the focus being given to the rare groove, jazz, city pop, and environmental ambient music of the 70s and 80s, the curators of both Island Sounds of Japan 2009 - 2016 and Oto No Wa: Selected Sounds of Japan 1988-2018 choose instead to spotlight lesser known and ever more modern corners of Japanese music, thus collecting together the kind of leftfield oddities and impossibly creative genre mashups that will inspire future generations of obsessive crate diggers, balearic minded DJs, and visionary producers.

Island Sounds from Japan 2009 - 2016 (Time Capsule, 2020) Saxophonist Akira Tatsumi made his name with The Determinations, an Osaka-based ska band operating throughout the 90s and early 00s. Following the group’s dissolution, Tatsumi dove ever deeper into Caribbean musical forms such as calypso and soca and following a solo album in 2013, he began to brainstorm ways he and his fellow musicians could develop a more distinctive musical identity…something “they could export to the world instead of merely following their influences.” Thus a regular jam out called “Akira Tatsumi presents Island Jazz Session” was born, featuring an ever-shifting collective of jazz and reggae musicians who eventually recorded an EP under the name Speak No Evil, the centerpiece of which is an inspired re-interpretation of the Wayne Shorter classic of the same name. Stabbing piano chords bring in a throbbing riddim, with hi-hats guiding the flow, snare rimshots cracking, piano chords skanking on waves of tropical sunshine, and Shinichiro Akihiro’s palm-muted guitars scratching on the beat. Tanko’s sensual basslines bob the body and work through zany high note accents as familiar horn themes flow over the mix, with Tatsumi’s alto and Motoharu’s tenor and soprano singing together through moaning reveries, descending through cinematic refrains, and bleating in bombast as Pablo Anthony’s martial snare rolls and proto-fusion drum fills break free from the riddim glide to bash and crash towards the sky. Eventually, we settle down into a deep reggae zone out while the saxophonists alight on dizzying solos, with hyperkinetic blues spirals and circular marathon cascades intertwining and occasionally shrieking towards free jazz desperation. Then comes a dreamy piano solo from Tetsuya Hataya, which intersperses blazing runs and percussive cluster chords as the entire length of the keyboard is explored. After these solo passages, we return to Shorter’s classical horn themes, with pleading blues melodies and soar ascents married to a sun-soaked Kingston skank. And following a false ending, everything drops back in heavier than before…the bass now locked into a sinister pulse while ghostly dub pianos underly a panning panorama of alien saxophone mesmerism.

The second track comes from AQATUKI, a group formed by “two guitar kids” Taaki and Chen who, together with a fluid collective of musicians, have been developing their own strand of psychedelia since the late 90s, one equally influenced by 70s space rock and 90s rave. However, for “Wakanoura,” Taaki, Chen, and friends are in bathing in rays of tropical sunshine, as the track is based around a Chen’s gemstone guitar harmonics, which themselves take inspiration from the junkyard-sourced idiophonics of Konono Nº1. As the prismatic guitar layers spread out across an infinite ocean surface, tight psych rock beats from Toda3 and Moro enter to sway the body while Taaki’s slide guitar glides between textures of Hawaiian rock and surfadelic splendor. Aknee’s bass chugs along and brings atmospheres of 50s pop romance as Chen’s crystalline harmonic webs flow into shimmering seaside arpeggios…the whole thing bringing visions of sunset skies and dolphins dashing through coral reefs. In fact, the liner notes explain that, in addition to taking inspiration from Konono Nº1, “Wakanoura” in finds the band lost in nostalgic revery as they collectively remember a beautiful sunset bar they played in the titular location. At some point, the track erupts in small scale as rimshots rain over the stereo field, basslines move down low, and double-time hi-hats add further propulsion to the rhythmic flow, with my mind drifting to the drug-induced balearica of Pharaohs and the post-rock exotica of Cul de Sac…especially as shimmering webs of polyrhythmic six string harmony support increasingly far out slide guitar explorations. Descending surf chords signal another transition, with the rhythms evolving into a sort of equatorial breakbeat while basslines dance on sunbeams, fuzzy slide hooks refract rays of tropical light, and distorted surf-psych licks hold down the groove. Elsewhere, we lock into a sort eternal two-note loop of tropical island fantasy…with everything breathing in unison and seeking out an eternal horizon…all before the cycles are broken by a glorious guitar solo, which rides high in the sky as tapped ride cymbals spread golden wavefronts in every direction.

Just as Aqatuki found themselves backpacking to India and Southeast Asia in the 90s to bathe in psychedelic radiance, so did Altz, who also took inspiratios from “Japanese punk originator[s]” Murahachibu and a host of other avant-rock bands discovered in his youth. Around the turn of the millennium, the artist began producing on his own via a computer and MPC, and has since enjoyed a prolific and eclectic career, with releases appearing on well known labels such as DFA, EM Records, and Bearfunk. “Orympia Rocks,” which comes from Bear Funk’s Hibernation (Vol. 1) sampler, slams right away into crushing disco kicks and ringing cymbals, with strange reverb effects spreading outwards into exo-planetary caverns. Chugging punk funk basslines cut in and out alongside chopped and mangled fuzz guitar riffs, which drop in and out from all sides of the mix or suddenly rocket across the spectrum while everything else flows and transforms through dub delay chains. After a surprising cut to silence, we drop back into the groove, with stoned basslines and muscular disco house freakbeats stomping beneath a grease-soaked cascade of country-fried slide guitar…a completely strange and inspired mash up that, as told by the liner notes, was inspired by Altz spinning southern rock classics such as The Allman Brothers and Lynyrd Skynyrd. The result comes off like something from the wildest reaches of the Mind Fair universe…with everything anxious, unsettled, and stubbornly refusing to lock in, preferring instead to tease out various elements while maniacally subverting well known forms of disco, house, funk, and stoner rock into a maddening dancefloor fever dream. Bleeping and blooping synthesizers beam in from faraway galaxies, crazed whistles zoom skywards, and occasionally, the slide guitar flies solo over the drums...its tremolo-soaked blues meditations fly solo before everything devolves into a storm of dubwise chaos. Later, laughing children induce LSD visions that obscure the mutant disco rock groove out and towards the end, after the drums disperse, the southern rock slide guitars transform towards Hawaiian tropicalia as calming ocean waves crash to shore.

In the liner notes, Kay Suzuki presents a beautiful and personal meditation on Keiichi Tanaka’s unique talents as well as his tragic passing. Indeed, Tanaka was a world traveller, having ventured as far as Mali, Senegal, and Morocco to learn a wide swath of rhythmic folk traditions. Coupled with a private lesson from Afrobeat legend Tony Allen, these experience established Tanaka as a distinctly skilled and diverse drummer…something that was on full display in his band Kingdom Afrorocks. After Kingdom Afrorock dissolved in 2014, Tanaka relocated from Tokyo to Hokkaido and reconnected with deep dub and Ainu folk fusionist OKI, who encouraged Tanaka to record a solo album, which eventually led to Keta Iicna Hika. However, Tanaka passed before seeing the LP’s release, which is all the more heartbreaking given how incredible the music is, with the record hinting at a deeply creative musical mind who was only just beginning to explore the full reaches of his artistic imagination. Taken from Keta Iicna Hika, “City of Aleppo” sees Tanaka and OKI creating a unique sort of blues inspired by the bombing of Aleppo, wherein mystically aligned basslines snake up and down through Afrobeat and tradition folk drum accents led by urgently tapped hats, four-four kicks, and sparse snare smacks. Sawing scrapes background kaleidoscopic layers of Ainu folk psaltery, with buzzing spiderwebs and psychotropic spirals woven from OKI’s tonkori and mukkuri. And the whole thing ebbs and flows in intensity to evoke the way sorrow hits in waves…as moments of apparent calm give way to dense cascades of pain and anguish, with the exotica drum gallop erupting into climactic flamboyance while infinite string webs evoke the spiritual suffocation of Aleppo’s occupation, as well as the historic oppression of the Ainu people at the hands of Japan’s government. OKI’s dub version of the track from Keta Iicna Hika is also included, which brilliantly deconstructs everything into miasma of oscillating echo and prismatic future folk. Basslines dance over beatless stretches, dubwise fx chains mutate and morph the Afro-Aino rhythms amidst echoing bursts of plucked string violence, and the mix is increasingly overwhelmed by psychedelic editing, with elements dropping unexpectedly, black smoke drone clouds cycling through chasms of silence, and cavernous drum fills ricocheting beneath waterfalls of fractalized psaltery.

(images from my personal copy)

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jolantajankowska · 6 years

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Memory of the body in Akademia Ruchu’s work

Teatr przedstawia ciała i jednocześnie posługuje się nimi jako swoimi najważniejszymi znakami. W funkcji znaku teatralnego ciało wszakże nie znika: na scenie pozostaje wartością samą w sobie. (Lehmann 2004: 273)

(Theater simultaneously shows and uses bodies as its most important signs. In its function of a theater sign the body does not disappear however: on the stage it remains a value of its own.)

Akademia Ruchu (eng. Academy of Movement) is a creative collective, founded in 1973 in Warsaw. It worked at the intersection of different disciplines of art: theater, visual arts, performance art and film. “They searched for a new language and means of expression, (...) but also maintained the tension between an artistic experiment and political engagement. Increasingly their actions were more geared towards not creating art, but rather creating a situation, which was supposed to be a starting point to an open public debate” (Kosiński 2010: 480). Paraphrasing Kosiński, the group established their own unique language and aesthetics, which their leader – Wojciech Krukowski, included in the formula of visual narration theater. The group was also the initiators of the innovative art happenings in open city spaces in Poland. The artists felt the need to tear down the theater walls and go to the streets, where they created several actions, from anonymous interventions and participatory projects to grand street performances.

The collective presented their work throughout the entire Europe, North and South Americas and Japan, among others at the World Theater Festival in Caracas and Nancy, Kaaitheater Festival in Brussels, International Theater Festival in Chicago, Live Art Festival in Glasgow. They performed during the Documenta 8 in Kassel and Performa 2013 in New York; at the Institute of Contemporary Arts ICA in London, MoMA PS1 in New York and Museum of Arts in Yokohama.

After the street happenings, the Academy returned to theater performances in 1979. Already in 1982 they put out two shows: Inne Tańce (Different Dances) and English Lesson. Thanks to the street happenings they established a close relationship with the audience, which allowed them to address social issues in theater performances. Their social activism introduced a new type of relationship between the performers and the audience, which despite the still existing theater wall, had the ability to understand actors actions better.

In order to understand their audience better, the artists had to study it and get to know it beforehand. They created a new kind of theater, one that was dynamic, one that studied gesture rather than words. That is why the body and movement became crucial elements of the dialogue with the audience for them. The viewers seemed to easily adapt to the innovative narrations. “The contemporary avant garde (...) drifted towards a maximum exposure of the carnality, materiality of the voice, effectiveness of the gesture by treating the immediate presence as the only and the undeniable value of meeting between the actor/performer and the viewer/witness of the happening” (Sajewska 2016: 62). Probably thanks to that, every single viewer was capable of not only understanding the actors’ hints, but also thanks to the familiarity with the gestures, was not indifferent to the spectacle they were watching.

THE BODY

I would like to look at the Academy of Movement’s actors bodies through a category of body as an archive, which has become “a form of writing, storing and updating the history and a reflection of such culture manifestations, in which it is uncovered as a space to forward actions from a body to a body, as a space for embodied and incarnated history” (Sajewska 2016: 73).

There is only a four minute clip available from the English Lesson spectacle, showing a sequence with the music of polish post-punk band Brygady Kryzys Travelling Stranger. The clip shows a “plan of a foreign language lesson (with the use of a tape recorder, improvised word exercises and dances). This show also suggested lessons of adapting to an artificial reality – and creative interpretations its restricted abilities” (Borkowska 2006: 103). The actors with little mirrors in their mouths, wearing dark sunglasses and elegant outfits, seem to be far away from the audience. Their bodies are no longer conventional and social, their bodies turn into stage, performing bodies. The artificiality of the language shifts to the artificiality of the carnality. Their lips do not say anything, their eyes do not express anything. In their hasty gestures of smoking cigarettes, adjusting the clothing, is hidden a great deal of stress, as if the actors were anxiously waiting for a stressful conversation – they are placed in an oppressive space. The show presents a language lesson, that is why the audience becomes alert and suspicious towards the speech, but also gestures, which are its parts. The Academy shows a dumbstruck language, the actors are not capable of expressing words, they turn into figures, from the song they become alien travellers.

The borders between the truth and the false, between the art and the reality, between the actor and a human being are blurred. The theatrical situation is no longer obvious, because it is so familiar to the society and its everyday. The Academy carries the political situations to the scene through the body and embodies the experiences of those situations through the movement.

MOVEMENT

Academy of Movement’s focus on the repeating movement sequences resulted in drifting away from the theatricalism, which was associated with dramatic texts, plots, and costumes. Thanks to the minimalism in set design and movements, and the absence of text in their shows, they presented a simple critical reflection. Their technique could be compared to the concepts of postmodern dance, which creators proclaimed the omnipresence of dance – each movement is a dance, and every person could be a dancer.

In English Lesson one group of actors stands close to the audience, and a second group sits still in the background. The group closer to the audience slowly starts to move. The Academy often uses a repeating gesture of adjusting clothing in their shows, which can be interpreted as deeply rooted social habit in those times. The performers smoke invisible cigarettes, they perform the gesture of pulling out documents and showing them to an invisible authority, another repeating sequence consists of adjusting, taking off and putting back on sunglasses. After a while the groups change places. In the rhythm of striking music by Travelling Stranger, a new wave band, the actors repeat their agitated movements in oblivion.

An important aspect of this part of the English Lesson, are the little mirrors placed in actors’ mouths, making their faces look unreal. One can read from them horror, astonishment, and even boredom. However, in this case the mirror is placed within the body, it starts to dance on its own, it seems to be a commentary on the lyrics: “I see the fallen structures/dead broken shapes/there is nothing to regret/there is only a giant falsehood”. Contrary to the movement, stemming from the everyday, the mirrors, which are the visualization of the language, become synonymous with falsehood in this case. Not only the language, which is empty and foreign, but also the lips speaking words with no meaning. The words themselves are the cause for which the actors are immobile from within. They only use gestures, which they had to embody in order to adjust to the false reality.

***

Todays attempts to analyze the Academy of Movement’s work can be problematic as there are very few available recordings of the shows in poor quality. Despite that, the viewer enters a completely different space when watching their work, maybe even experiences the same type of trance as the original audience. Thanks to simple set design, which was just a black box with modest props, the audience focus is concentrated at the bodies present on the stage. Despite the time passing, when watching one still feels amazed by the innovative and eerie works of the Academy of Movement. The collective’s leader used the dialogue with the reality as his main medium, he therefore used a very contemporary language. He mainly attributed it to music, which commented on the current social situation and at the same time was expressive and had the ability to induce trance. The viewer was transported into a completely different space, having an impression of being completely isolated from the outside world, but was also at the same time entering a new convention illustrating an exaggerated everyday conditions. The viewer starts noticing the pathology of the social behaviors, usually stemmed from increasing tensions on the scene, stemming from incarnated system, or the fear of it. The spectacles put on by the Academy of Movement become collages of stories about social choreography and the network of communal relations.

When Dorota Sajewska writes about the necroperfomance, she understands it “as the study subject, it does not have one point of reference and a passive object of historical reconstruction, but an active body-archive – which has its own historical matter, which appears and disappears, which in turn means that it changes” (Sajewska 2016:71). In Academy of Movement’s works there is a lot of material, that places the history on the performer’s body. The actors themselves were the carriers of gestures, but they had to embody them as new in order to present them in a way understandable for the viewer. In the case of Academy of Movement it is the repeated trauma of the community in the communist Poland, which personally touched every single person in the country. The show was about being stuck in a system in which the society has to be subordinate. Krukowski himself said “The everyday in our shows is contained in gestures, behaviors – taken from the reality without «play», with the highest possible level of naturalness” (Plata 2016: 11).

While observing the choreography in English Lesson one can see, what was the reality of the times. People stuck in oppressive situations, which caused stress induced tics in the body, constant tension even in domestic situations, military presence in the streets, constant, pointless waiting for everything and nothing. The theater scene has become a place to play the real dramas, which were edited to be more dynamic – through changes in rhythm and repetition.

The shows created by Academy of Movement reveal their own paradoxical place in the memory archive: as the forgotten past, constantly working right under the skin of the polish culture, but not by anticipating the processes happening in the contemporary performing arts, but rather by consistently building them.

Bibliography:

video: https://artmuseum.pl/en/filmoteka/praca/akademia-ruchu-english-lesson

music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BbT4GkbhG1M

Hans-Thies Lehmann (2004), Teatr postdramatyczny, Kraków.

Dariusz Kosiński (2010), Teatra polskie. Historie, Warszawa.

Tomasz Plata (2016), Akademia Ruchu. Teatr, Warszawa.

Dorota Sajewska (2016), Nekroperformans. Kulturowa rekonstrukcja teatru wielkiej wojny, Warszawa.

Akademia Ruchu : miasto - pole akcji, red. Małgorzata Borkowska, Warszawa.

#ar #akademiaruchu #travelingstranger #body #archive #curator #art #performance

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yellowing · 8 years

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American Gods AU

background: i’ve been rereading american gods again and am super pumped for the tv series coming up and in turn this monstrosity creeped into my brain so... there.

...the more i think about it the more it becomes a weird mashup of american gods / noragami / the cross colors seven lucky gods AU...

obligatory fake paperback summary (what would this even be called? Japanese Gods? i don’t know):

Taiga is a man with a past. But now he wants nothing more than to live a quiet life with his brother, play some basketball, and stay out of trouble. Until Taiga learns that he’s been killed in a terrible accident.

Flying back to Japan for the funeral, as a violent storm rocks the plane, a strange man seems to suddenly appear in the empty seat next to him. The man calls himself Kuroko Tetsuya, and he knows more about Taiga than is possible.

He warns Taiga that a far bigger storm is coming. And from that moment on, nothing will ever be the same...

Also uh just so we’re clear, Kagami isn’t going to be shipped with anyone. It’s just him having a no good very bad extremely shitty year with a bunch of divine fuckups. There are side pairings, but you’ll have to work them out yourself~

Might add some more characters later but this is all for now!

CAST/Humans

Kagami Taiga

A nisei Japanese-American who was involved in a robbery gone wrong and took the fall for everyone else. His sentence is unexpectedly commuted and he is released after learning that his brother died in a mysterious car crash in Tokyo.

Is hustled by Kuroko into a weird job as his bodyguard after he learns that his former employer disappeared after the accident. Kagami knows basically jack shit about Japanese religion after growing up in America for so long, but slowly recognizes that Kuroko is actually the god Daikoku after following him to multiple shrines. He thinks that rogue spirits are the reason why Himuro died and thus is more motivated to stick around with Kuroko to find out why this is happening, but still doesn’t know what Kuroko sees in him until much later.

Also accidentally resurrects Himuro after tossing into his casket one of the rings he got to remember his brother by, after getting released from prison.

(The god Fukurokuju is the only one of the Seven Lucky Gods with the ability to resurrect the dead.)

Himuro Tatsuya

Kagami’s older brother figure and close friend, they drifted apart for a while until the whole mess that got Kagami imprisoned happened. Actually feels very guilty about it but hasn’t been able to come around to apologizing to Kagami before the car crash happens.

Gets accidentally resurrected by Kagami and goes on the run after spirits start randomly getting attracted to him and keep trying to kill him, presumably because of the divine mark left on him (his ring.)

Nijimura Shuuzou

A junior officer in the Public Security Mobile Investigation Unit of the Tokyo police force who gets roped up into the battle of the gods after witnessing officers get killed by rogue spirits.

He was originally assigned to track down a possible cult uprising that his department could not figure out (designated ‘The Miracle Makers’ - actually just shit the Seven Lucky Gods caused) but gets saved by Himuro instead during a raid gone wrong. They try to find out wtf is going on together and encounter some of the gods/spirits listed below.

Alexandra Garcia

Kagami and Himuro’s former employer/mentor. She faked her own death as a cover after Himuro’s death to find out more about what had really happened, which is how she winds up employed in a Roppongi hotel where rumors of strange happenings keep cropping up...

Kasamatsu Yukio

Nijimura’s senpai at the Public Security Mobile Investigation Unit. He becomes increasingly concerned when members of the police department start getting seriously hurt or killed at an abnormal rate during mysterious occurrences, and decides to take matters into his own hands when Nijimura disappears.

Basically knows jack shit about magic or gods or whatever, but is a damn good shot (to some of the spirits’ horror.)

Haizaki Shougo

Nijimura’s kouhai who dropped out of police school. He gets involved with some bad spirits and gets into a life of petty crime, wherein he’s picked up by a mysterious man as an informant on the police side of things.

CAST/Kuroko’s Group

Kuroko Tetsuya

The god Daikoku, who is trying to find out why there are rogue spirits roaming around Japan. He comes to the conclusion that it is because one of the Seven Lucky Gods is missing and that some of them have turned corrupt, and figures out that Kagami is actually the missing god reincarnated as a human.

In order to fight the other gods who he believes are letting spirits fuck up Japan for their own gain, he is recruiting other spirits and minor deities to back him up. Without his golden mallet, which was stolen from him centuries ago, he has little presence and not that much power despite being a popular god, to the surprise of many.

Momoi Satsuki

The goddess of happiness and beauty Kichijoten, who reluctantly joins Kuroko’s mission because she doesn’t want to start fighting with the other gods. Though she has good feelings towards Kuroko and is eager to help him otherwise she isn’t sure if she completely believes his reasoning behind the spirit attacks. On the other hand, she does not want to see her fellow gods fall into boredom and inaction and even possible corruption, and feels compelled to help the people in need.

Kiyoshi Teppei

The god Sarutahiko Okami, who guided humans to the Japanese islands in the past. Although he is currently not as powerful as he once was thanks to an injury he received, Kuroko still views him as a great asset and wise figure. He spends most of his time in a home for the elderly talking to people about their lives.

Aida Riko

An incarnation of the bodhisattva Kannon, who wants nothing to do with this venture but is suckered into it by Momoi. Despite her misgivings the suffering of the humans calls to her and strengthens her resolve in finding out who the culprit is. She owns an antiques shop that is often used for her companions’ as a congregation place.

Izuki Shun

A tengu from Mt. Hiei who works at a local library, specializing in making all the patrons leave and never return with his puns. After seeing his own clan start to act strangely he decides to go to the city and find out what happened along with Hyuuga, where he runs into Kuroko and Kagami.

Hyuuga Junpei

A kunado-no-kami (local god) who saw his village get overrun by bad spirits and his villagers suffering from bad luck. He then set out to bigger shrines to find someone who could help him ward off the spirits because his own power alone could not stop them. He runs into Izuki on the way and they seek out shrines in the city, thus coming into contact with Kuroko.

Takao Kazunari

Yatagarasu, an avian guide of divinity and symbol of the sun. Appears as a raven in most mythology but also likes to appear as a hawk in recent times (because, as he says, it looks cooler that way.)

He isn’t really “part” of Kuroko’s group, but he flits around them often enough out of curiosity that they start counting him as one of them anyway. Takao works odd jobs around his apartment, mainly things like bartending, and picks up some interesting signs from a disgruntled bespectacled man who’s starting to frequent his bar...

CAST/The Seven (Five?) Lucky Gods

Kise Ryouta

The god Benzaiten, who works as an internationally famous model and quite frankly has not given much of a shit about his job as a god in a long time. At the same time, he has also become increasingly bored of the glitz and glam. Is accused at first by Hyuuga and Izuki to be the one who released the unruly spirits who overheard him talking about this, but in reality has no idea what happened. Or who happened, actually.

(Okay, maybe he has some idea, but it won’t do you any good to keep asking about it, Kurokocchi, so please just stop there.)

He still gets roped into the ordeal by Momoi’s disappointed stare. Uh, oops?

Midorima Shintarou

As Bishamonten, the god of warriors and repeller of evil spirits, he is very concerned about the rogue spirits roaming Japan. When he called for a council meeting of the gods only Akashi showed up, only to tell him that he believes it is the minor gods clamoring for rebellion. Midorima thinks it’s Kuroko who’s stirring up the rebellion and goes to confront him.

He is a well-respected doctor by day, though he’s starting to develop a bad habit of going to a certain bar nearby at night because of all the pressure from both of his jobs. Midorima also listens religiously to the morning broadcast Oha Asa, which despite his not having an actual birthday and the show not being broadcasted by spirits, is a very accurate prediction of his fortune.

Aomine Daiki

Jurojin, the god of longevity. Used to pick fights with other gods all the time, but now possibly gives even less of a shit about being a god than Kise, considering people don’t really worship him that much anymore. Now he spends most of his time drifting from town to town, much to Momoi’s horror when she finally finds him again.

He gets into a fight with Kagami at one point after some miscommunication and thinks that it’s Kagami’s fault that Kuroko and Momoi are trying to mess with something they shouldn’t mess with. Kagami thinks he’s hiding something (he isn’t; he just likes being an ass. Maybe.)

Murasakibara Atsushi

Hotei, the god of fortune and children. He works as a hotel concierge and frequents the in-house sweets shop run by Sakurai (Tajimamori) who is pretty frightened of him all things considered, and rarely seeks out gods other than the Seven Lucky Gods and select others. Is pretty docile, and while Kuroko clashes with him on how to treat humans they are otherwise on friendly terms.

Doesn’t seem to care a whole lot about what’s going on until several members of the police force suddenly burst in with a search warrant for a runaway criminal...

Akashi Seijuurou

Ebisu, the god of wealth. He is the unofficial leader of the Seven, who in the past always looked to his guidance in managing the affairs between the spirit world and the humans. He appears as a wealthy businessman, rumored among his colleagues to be descended from a noble house, polite but ruthless in his dealings.

Various gods have suspected that Akashi has a hand in the bad shit going on right now because of the rumors that he’s dabbled in weird magic before. Akashi, for his part, neither confirms nor denies these rumors, which simply adds fuel to the fire.

CAST/Other Characters

Araki Masako

A demigoddess whose grandmother was the goddess Kali. She teaches PE at a local high school by day but is a feared exorcist by night. The abnormal amount of spirits cropping up in the past year is what leads her to take a pilgrimage down south from her base in Akita to find out what’s going on, where she winds up running into some very interesting people.

Imayoshi Shouichi

A satori who works as a fortune-teller and informant in Ginza and is part of the local underworld populated by humans and youkai alike. Although seemingly amoral and willing to sell information to every side imaginable in the conflict, might he have his own hidden agenda...?

Hanamiya Makoto

Leader of a tsuchigumo yakuza clan who wants to use the current chaos as an excuse to extend their influence. They have clashed with the special forces of the police in the past before as well as other yakuza members. Is the reason why Kiyoshi is injured.

Mayuzumi Chihiro

Hakutaku, a youkai which carries around a book containing all known manner of demons and spirits of the world. Reticent and much preferring to stay out of the matters of the other gods and spirits over the years, he works at a small bookstore in an obscure part of Tokyo that attracts virtually no attention.

The recent upsurge of spirit activity has only increased the number of people seeking him out, which annoys him to no end.

Ogiwara Shigehiro

The rice god Ukanomitama, who has been long forgotten and not seen by the other gods in years. What could have happened to him?

#kuroko no basuke #knb au #i. dont know how to tag this?#kagami taiga #since he's the main character thats all im tagging #tw possible sacrilegious content #oh and i didnt include the other rakuzan members but theyre... basically what their nicknames are #american gods au

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thesunlounge · 4 years

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Reviews 344: Oto No Wa

I’m overjoyed to write again about Music for Dreams’ “Serious Collector Series,” not only because this run of compilations has produced some of the best vinyl sets of the past few years in the form of Jan Schulte’s Tropical Drums of Deutschland, Moonboots’ Moments in Time, and Basso’s Proper Sunburn, but also because the newest such collection, Oto No Wa: Selected Sounds of Japan 1988 - 2018, features a trio of curators who have all influenced this blog in significant ways. Listed first on the breathtaking cover is Ken Hidaka, who in addition to having a storied career as a DJ, journalist, and international record label liaison, has had a significant hand in coordinating many of my favorite reissues from the past few years…things such as Gigi’s Illuminated Audio on Time Capsule and Yutaka Hirose’s Nova + 4 on WRWTFWW, not to mention facilitating serenitatem…that spellbinding collaboration between Yoshio Ojima, Satsuki Shibano, and Visible Cloaks released last year on RNVG Intl. Then there’s Max Essa, one of the premiere practitioners of the balearic beat, whether it’s remixing tracks into euphoric seaside cruisers or producing expansive original works such as “Panorama Suite” for Is It Balearic?, the Lanterns LP for Music for Dreams, or his recently concluded trio of EPs for Hell Yeah Recordings: Themes From The Hood, The Cad & The Lovely, Haz Zan Roc, and The Great Adventure. And finally comes Dr. Rob, a far-ranging musical adventurer and gifted wordsmith whose reviews, interviews, mixes, and stories spread across Test Pressing and Ban Ban Ton Ton showed me entirely new ways to write about music, with his expressive poetics, deep references, and inimitable sense of cleverness rising far beyond standard music criticism and going a long way towards inspiring the creation of this very website.

As far as the music comprising Oto No Wa is concerned, Dr. Rob gives some background at Ban Ban Ton Ton, where he speaks of the trio meeting after one of their Lone Star nights at Bar Bonobo and compiling an initial list of some 200 hundred fantasy selections, which was miraculously whittled down to just 20 tracks. But then, the typically unflinching Japanese record label ecosystem slashed that list to all but nothing, leading Ken, Max, and Dr. Rob to reconsider the entire experience. I like to think that this was ultimately for the better, for in reworking the concept and flow of Oto No Wa, our trio of selectors struck upon the brilliant idea to, in the words of Dr. Rob, ”plot a course from pioneers, through to younger generations who`ve picked up the baton,” resulting in a spectacular set of balearic eclecticism focused on the 90s and 00s, which are periods often missed in the world of Japanese archival reissuing. Indeed, in contrast to the environmental ambiance, city pop, fusion, and jazz so often considered, the sounds here lean much closer to the romantic seaside vibrations of Flower Records’ Silent Dream CD mixes and the Ibizan chill out comps of React, as house beats are repurposed for summer fusion sways, sun-dappled ivories seek out a panoramic horizon, strummed acoustics jangle in an island breeze, electric guitars slide across cinematic deserts, dubwise basslines stroll down white sand beaches, chamber strings play themes for impossible sunsets, and steel pans bring touches of Caribbean splendor. Elsewhere, balafons dance through tropical forests, oceanic soundbaths wash the spirit clean, deep sea explorations transmute into Berlin school magic, and ceremonial drum layers surround barely there violin reveries, with the entire experience being bookended by a pair of kankyō ongaku drifters.

Oto No Wa: Selected Sounds of Japan 1988-2018 (Music for Dreams, 2020) Yoshio Ojima’s “Sealed,” the sole track here from the 80s, comes from the second volume of the producer’s now legendary Une Collection Des Chaînons: Music For Spiral collection and sees glowing hazes moving in slow motion…these harmonious swells mimicking the motions of some celestial sea while textures of digital crystal twinkle overhead. The vibe is hopeful and soothing, though there are moments where the swelling drones turn minor key and melancholic and the glass and gemstone atmospheres get caught in hyperspeed delay trails. But we always return to the floating stretches of major key majesty, with the music perfectly suited to scoring the motions of clouds across the sky or leaves drifting down a stream. And like many of Ojima’s tracks, there is a false ending…a fade to silence preceding a rebirth, wherein the melodic textures from before are reconfigured into mysterious forms…as if the cerulean sky scene mentioned earlier has been washed out by moody grey rainclouds. The original mix of Olololop’s “Mon” revels in washy 90s post-rock atmospherics, with increasingly free ambient jazz drumming underlying cascading pianos and plucked harps. And while the “orte Remix” by Kumi Hayashi and Takaaki Suzuki preserves many of these elements, the vibe here is more oriented towards classical chill out. The beats are rigid and slamming as they lock into a mechanized seaside swing, with the original’s jazz drumming fluidity replaced by pounding kicks, panning ride taps, and sketchy shaker patterns. Piano and harp flow into the stereo field, dropping plucked rays of golden harmony and washes of ivory ethereality before settling into a balearic dreamdance, one carried by gentle trance electronics and layers of droning bass positivity. At some point the rhythms pull away and we find ourselves in an extended beatless bliss out, wherein melodies of ocean crystal pulse around melodious harp motions, abstracted kick taps flutter on echo breezes, and pan-pipes sparkle in the distance. And later, the mix reduces to an industrial downbeat drum sway and a ceremonial hum of subdued choral mesmerism as the piano continues merging vibes of new age fusion and beachside romance.

Among my favorite cuts here is Kazuya Kotani’s “Fatima,” coming from the 2007 CD Made in Love. Seed shakers and rainsticks roll through echo machines, oceanic string panoramas shift in phase, and bongos and congas beat out a seaside beat as a cooing voice whispers sweet nothings in a way reminding me of Sth. Notional’s “Yawn Yawn Yawn (Dream… Another Reality Mix)”. Bulbous basslines bring touches of gentle dub exotica and a glorious chill out breakbeat swings with infectious forward momentum even as it lands like air, while pianos shimmer and shine via wavering chord mirages and prismatic delay leads that presage Coyote’s use of the instrument. The way everything locks in is so perfect, with hand drums bopping alongside the seaside breakbeat cruise and angelic strings glowing beneath sparkling ivory dreamspells…the whole thing coming together like some prototypical cut from one of José Padilla’s Cafe del Mar compilations or a Phil Mison curated Real Ibiza collection. At some point the drums pull away, leaving behind soft piano flutters, breathy whispers, and overlapping waves of orchestral resonance. And when the beats return, they are joined by heartwrenching chamber string progressions…a sort of swooning dance of cinematic sunset majesty before the track effortlessly glides back towards beachside chill out perfection. The B-side opens with “N.I.C.E. Guy” by Scha Dara Parra, who Dr. Rob describes in the liner notes as “Japan’s answer to the Beastie Boys.” The “Nice Guitar Dub” of the track presented here takes us into the world of the Major Force dance collective, and sees house kicks, hand drum loops, and clipped snares underlying lysergic repetitions of “feel good / checking things out” before dropping into a summery groove led by walking sunshine jazz bass, Hiroshi Fujiwara’s acoustic guitar strums, and Hirofumi Asamoto’s piano…a sort of ambient honky tonk cascade scoring some lagoon adjacent saloon. Occasionally, heavenly strings blow through the stereo field to envelop the vocal samples and there’s a strange midtro given over to urgent stick clicks and rimshots while towards the end, b-boy drum cut-ups and turntablist flourishes disturb the flow.

Little Tempo is an ever shifting group of dub and reggae explorers led in part by Takeshi “Tico” Toki and his shimmering steel pan. The collective has played the world over and released an impressive number of albums since the mid-90s, one of which is Ron Riddim, a 2xLP from 1999 containing the track “Frostie.” A stoner beat moves beneath a tropical panorama of steel drumming, with hi-hats occasionally opening, shekeres scraping, and snares pushing through granular reverb, and as we drop into the groove, liquid dub basslines pulse and slide while a piano glistens in the moonlight. The ivory performance is powerful and awash in twilight romance and noir mystery, sometimes dancing in solo and other times accented by glimmering steel pan flourishes. Elsewhere, the pianos are replaced by electric guitars, which let loose bluesy slides and space western leads…the mixture of desert twang and equatorial riddim strongly evoking the dubbier sides of Tortoise. There’s a moment where the track gives over to martial snare intensity as amphibian lasers and telephonic tracers fire across the sky, with the latter sound pulling my mind to the work of Eddie C. And eventually, the track settles into a sort of bluesy reggae zone out, with subsonic basslines skanking and dubwise drums smacking while wavering steel drum mirages surround spaghetti western slides in the style of Doug McCombs. Karel Arbus & Eiji Takamatsu will of course be well familiar to readers of this blog, both for their amazing Some Backland Plaze tape on Max Essa’s Jansen Jardin and for that completely stunning rework of Cantoma’s “Kasoto” from last year. “Coco and the Fish,” taken from the aforementioned cassette, sees idiophones splashing through sea spray while enigmatic electronics swirl in the background…like a vortex of kosmische wonderment pulsating in colors of deep purple and blue, one that occasionally opens up to reveal deep house chord stabs. It’s hard to say whether the main instrument played is marimba or balafon, but either way, it’s a hyperkinetic performance exuding an energy at once meditative and ecstatic...all while phaser wisps, starshine sparkles, and hidden voices swirl in the distance.

I first heard globetrotting DJ and Flower Records alum Kentaro Takizawa courtesy of Phil Mison and his Pure Ibiza 2xCD set released by I Label in 2008, which included the “Silent Dream Version” of the song taken from the aforementioned Silent Dream compilation. Originally though, the track closed Takizawa’s album Gradual Life from 2006, and this is the version included here. Ride cymbals shine amidst glorious murmurations of ambient synthesis while percussive eco fx mimic the songs of lizards and toads. Elecrosnares rocket across the spectrum, beauteous acoustic guitar arps fall like summer rain, and further six-string solos move in counterpoint, with subdead leads mesmerizing the mind. As psychoactive threads of static surround decaying triangles, sundowner string orchestrations ascend towards the clouds, causing the heart to soar in that Sacha Putnam or Vangelis kind of way, and when the beat drops, it’s a lackadaisical sway led by rolling bongos and tapped cymbals. Guitars dance playfully over a backdrop of fourth world alien magic and ever so often, filmic string themes diffuse into the spectrum. Elsewhere, the drums wash away, leaving e-pianos to execute breathtaking descents before disappearing into a synthesized mirage. Rainsticsk flow over the stereo field as the track evolves even further towards new age bliss, with a harmonious conversation of acoustic guitar sunshine proceeding in a fantasy jungle, wherein sunlight reflects off of glistening palm fronds and tropical birds sing intoxicating songs. And after returning to the bopping rhythms and tapestries of chill out exotica, the tracks ends with guitars being replaced by pianos while mermaid pads whoosh through a sunbathed rainforest setting. Mystical percussionist Yoshiaki Ochi inhabited similar circles to Yoshio Ojima, releasing through NEWSIC and seeing his music played, like Ojima’s, at the arts center of Wacoal lingerie company, otherwise known as Spiral. In “Balasong,” taken from 1990’s Natural Sonic, balafons bounce playfully while executing Steve Reich-style pattenrs of minimalist exotica. The drunken daydream motions and otherworldly idiophone polyrhythms are occasionally interspersed by fast motion twiddles and rapid fire rolls, while at the edge of the mix gourds buzz and textures of metal sparkle…perhaps the ghostly chiming of temple bells.

Kaoru Inoue is a hugely influential figure who for decades has been perfecting his own esoteric combination of house, techno, ambient, and spiritual world music. “Wave Introduction” was originally released on the artist’s 2006 album Slow Motion before being repurposed as the opener for one of my favorite albums ever released: Inoue’s horizontal masterpiece Em Paz released in 2018 on Groovement Organic. The track features the relaxing sounds of waves crashing to shore, joined by twinkling synths, distant foghorns, and psychosonic liquid drips, which eventually transmute into a Reich-ian dream sequence awash in textures of mermaid crystal. Undulating bass arps support slow moving pads that drift like cosmic fog while rhythmic wisps of laser static tickle the mind and the whole thing takes on the feeling of a drunken dream dance that slowly moves towards ambient rapture. The influential Flower Records and its founder Eitetsu Takamiya are represented here by the highly sought after “Scuba” under Takamiya’s Little Big Bee alias. Psychedelic bubble clouds blow over Kenji Jinguiji’s slithering bass guitar romantics and the e-pianos of Plaza Fujisaki glow with a sort of new age spirituality while Hawaiian guitars slide across a sunburst sky. A hushed house beat is accented by gentle clacks and seed shaker pulses as Jinguji’s lowslung basslines lock into a balearic fusion dance replete with vocal slides up the fretboard and as the pacific breeze guitar slides swim between solar organ dub chords, spaceage arpeggiations flitter all around. I detect a definite lean towards The Orb’s early merging of dub, ambient, and techno, with a stereo field colored through by cut-off motions, resonance flares, and whalesong pads that settle into a haze of golden light. The beats cut away momentarily, leaving filtering cosmic synthetics, pulsing organ accents, and emotive basslines while stick clicks build a rainshower rhythm. Seafoam siren synths swell in strength and subsume the entire mix as angels breath rainbow mist across universal expanses and eventually, a liquid guitar slide reintroduces the south pacific chill out groove, which now features hyperkinetic click cascades.

Coastlines, the duo of Masanori Ikeda and Takumi Kaneko, are huge favorites around here and given that I reviewed their cover of Ralph MacDonald’s “East Dry River” when it was originally released as a 7” back in 2018, I’ll present a modified version of my words from that time: Joyously ascending piano chords and deep vocal bass percussions set the scene before we smash cut into a smooth coastal fusion jam, as tambourines and toms pound beneath radiant piano strokes and synthetic steel drum dances while four four house kicks and luscious sub-basslines move the body. Angels bring touches of pure euphoria as they rain down from the sky, and elsewhere, fretless bass solos wiggle above the island rhythm dreamscape…the Motohiko Hamase-style note clusters and liquiform slides trailing under subtle ping-pong delays while colorful hand drum accents evoke slow-motion dancing on some fantasy beach. There’s a brief moment where everything washes away, leaving lush piano chords and sparkling steel pans adrift in solitude, and later, after returning to the seaside house rhythms and melodic textures of jazz fusion fantasy, we are treated again to a crazed fretless bass solo, one that grows ever more frantic and chaotic before finally dispersing. Though beloved producer Susumu Yokota is no longer with us, his memory lives on via his profound influence and his intrepid bridgings of academic ambient and techno body pressure, not to mention archival projects such as the Jon Tye-assisted Cloud Hidden from 2019. “Uchu Taniyo” is taken from Yokota’s 1999 album Sakura and begins with a voice pushing through clouds of reverb as ritualistic percussion builds from the depths. Hand drums and wooden clacks lock into a ceremonial dance kissed by cosmic fx and growling ambient forms swirl into the stereo field…these morphing tremolo gurgles imbued with atmospheres of melancholy. Voices continue babbling as a violin enters the scene, letting loose folksy melodies and post-classical whispers that barely break through the layers of rhythmic repetition. And as the track comes to an end, the exotica drum webs fade out as frogsong electronics decay into the void.

The vibe continues to spread out towards horizontal ambiance in “Time and Space,” a track exclusive to this compilation from the duo of Isao Kumano and Kenichi Takagi, who are often found working with Alex from Tokyo in Tokyo Black Star, but who here appear in their “secretive” Chillax guise. Crystallized sequences, smoldering static waveforms, and hazes of ocean either intertwine as chiming melodies ascend on unseen currents towards a sun soaked sea surface, and I can’t help but think of the underwater kosmische of Iury Lech and Miguel Noya, as well as the seafloor ambient excursions of Shelter on Profondeur 4000 and Private Agenda on Île de Rêve. Soft focus chord bursts breath ambient house ether into the mix while tick-tocking arps build slowly in the background, eventually growing in strength and taking over the mix as the vibe flows from deep sea drifting to Berlin school melodrama, wherein searing filter motions surround the spirit and vocoder cyborgs chant amidst subsuming chord decays. I’ve said much about Takashi Kokubo across this blog, though thus far everything has been focused around his hugely influential Get at the Wave. And given how well mined that album is by now, I’m quite thankful that Ken, Max, and Dr. Rob have opted instead for “Quiet Inlet,” a track appearing on Kokubo’s Eternity from 2006. Waves lap gently against the shore of some hidden island scene...a place of peace and picturesque beauty known only to the fish, reptiles, and birds. A calming piano lullaby enters the scene, marrying Satie-like ambiance and Riley-ian minimalism while digital colorations and e-piano bubble clouds flit all around. A choir of angelic sirens bathe the mix in vocal radiance while bell trees mimic sunlight refractions on the ocean’s surface and after a false ending, the dreamscape ivory cascades, pointillist e-piano melodies, and heavenly choirs return, with everything shrouded by pearlescent pad layers and gaseous blankets of reverb. Windchimes blow on a sea breeze and periodic swells of mermaid magnificence work into the mix and as the sampled waves continue their motions, they lull the mind towards daydream visages of the titular seaside paraiso.

(images from my personal copy)

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