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There’s a big clue to the pacific wisdom of The Orchestra in the Sky in the artist name – Hochzeitskapelle + Japanese Friends. For this is, indeed, music based in, and resonating with, friendship, camaraderie, collaboration, and creative exchange. Across two albums – one documenting recordings from Tokyo, the other an expansive double album of sessions from Kobe – Hochzeitskapelle gather around them some of the finest voices in Japanese independent and underground pop music, like Tenniscoats, Eddie Marcon, Yuko Ikema, and Kama Aina, and explore an open field of music, full of creative encounters.

You may already know Hochzeitskapelle as the German instrumental quintet formed by members of The Notwist, Alien Ensemble, and friends from the jazz scene. Across three albums, one a collaboration with Kama Aina (2018’s Wayfaring Suite), they’ve developed a way of playing together that’s intimate and playful, rich and human; it’s a music that’s deliberately rough around the edges, and that nestles cosily into the everyday. Their relationship with Japanese indie has developed over the years, doubtless encouraged by Saya´s „Minna Miteru“, compilations series of Japanese indie pop for Morr Music. A peripatetic gang, Hochzeitskapelle also recently backed Japanese singer-songwriter Makoto Kawamoto on her new album, Hikari.

In many ways, The Orchestra in the Sky feels like the culmination of a set of ongoing cross-cultural exchanges: the Minna Miteru compilations; tours of Japan by Hochzeitskapelle and The Notwist; and indeed, Markus Acher’s Spirit Fest group with Saya and Ueno of Tenniscoats. The latter are present throughout much of The Orchestra in the Sky, and Saya’s voice is particularly winning on songs like “Tsuki no oto”, where the two outfits are joined by brass ensemble Zayaendo. There are several lovely turns from singer-songwriter Yuko Ikema, and Eddie Marcon appear twice; their songs are still beautiful, spectral acid folk, but with Hochzeitskapelle filling the details with lush, sad brass and strings.

But it’s also the potentially lesser-known names that shine through The Orchestra in the Sky, like the frail folk of Gratin Carnival; the delightful, gentle pop songs by sekifu and Zayaendo member, Kanako Numata; a trio of beautiful, stumble-drunk melodies played in swaying consort with popo. That group, along with the presence of Zayaendo, Fuigo, and Mitamurakandadan?, make strong connections with the Japanese underground’s love of brass bands, partly informed by the tradition of chindon’ya, marching bands that walk the streets of Japanese cities. They also all appeared on the recent Alien Parade Japan compilation of such groups, assembled by Acher and Saya.

All things converge, then, on The Orchestra in the Sky, a smart, spirited collection of heavenly pop songs, intimate folk melodies, lungfuls of joyous brass, deep weeping strings, and swooning sighs. The last words go to Acher himself: “Many things we did in the last years come together here and it feels like something special was captured.” We hope you like what you hear.

There’s a big clue to the pacific wisdom of The Orchestra in the Sky in the artist name – Hochzeitskapelle + Japanese Friends. For this is, indeed, music based in, and resonating with, friendship, camaraderie, collaboration, and creative exchange. Across two albums – one documenting recordings from Tokyo, the other an expansive double album of sessions from Kobe – Hochzeitskapelle gather around them some of the finest voices in Japanese independent and underground pop music, like Tenniscoats, Eddie Marcon, Yuko Ikema, and Kama Aina, and explore an open field of music, full of creative encounters.

You may already know Hochzeitskapelle as the German instrumental quintet formed by members of The Notwist, Alien Ensemble, and friends from the jazz scene. Across three albums, one a collaboration with Kama Aina (2018’s Wayfaring Suite), they’ve developed a way of playing together that’s intimate and playful, rich and human; it’s a music that’s deliberately rough around the edges, and that nestles cosily into the everyday. Their relationship with Japanese indie has developed over the years, doubtless encouraged by Saya´s „Minna Miteru“, compilations series of Japanese indie pop for Morr Music. A peripatetic gang, Hochzeitskapelle also recently backed Japanese singer-songwriter Makoto Kawamoto on her new album, Hikari.

In many ways, The Orchestra in the Sky feels like the culmination of a set of ongoing cross-cultural exchanges: the Minna Miteru compilations; tours of Japan by Hochzeitskapelle and The Notwist; and indeed, Markus Acher’s Spirit Fest group with Saya and Ueno of Tenniscoats. The latter are present throughout much of The Orchestra in the Sky, and Saya’s voice is particularly winning on songs like “Tsuki no oto”, where the two outfits are joined by brass ensemble Zayaendo. There are several lovely turns from singer-songwriter Yuko Ikema, and Eddie Marcon appear twice; their songs are still beautiful, spectral acid folk, but with Hochzeitskapelle filling the details with lush, sad brass and strings.

But it’s also the potentially lesser-known names that shine through The Orchestra in the Sky, like the frail folk of Gratin Carnival; the delightful, gentle pop songs by sekifu and Zayaendo member, Kanako Numata; a trio of beautiful, stumble-drunk melodies played in swaying consort with popo. That group, along with the presence of Zayaendo, Fuigo, and Mitamurakandadan?, make strong connections with the Japanese underground’s love of brass bands, partly informed by the tradition of chindon’ya, marching bands that walk the streets of Japanese cities. They also all appeared on the recent Alien Parade Japan compilation of such groups, assembled by Acher and Saya.

All things converge, then, on The Orchestra in the Sky, a smart, spirited collection of heavenly pop songs, intimate folk melodies, lungfuls of joyous brass, deep weeping strings, and swooning sighs. The last words go to Acher himself: “Many things we did in the last years come together here and it feels like something special was captured.” We hope you like what you hear.

2023 Repress On Vertigo Days, the first album in seven years for The Notwist, one of Germany’s most iconic independent groups are alive to the possibilities of the moment. Their music has long been open-minded and exploratory, but from its engrossing structure, through its combination of melancholy pop, clangorous electronics, hypnotic Krautrock and driftwork ballads, to its international musical guests, Vertigo Days is both a new step for The Notwist, and a reminder of just how singular they’ve always been. Most importantly, the core trio of Markus and Micha Acher and Cico Beck are reaching out: as Markus reflects, “we wanted to question the concept of a band by adding other voices and ideas, other languages, and also question or blur the idea of national identity.”

It’s been seven years since The Notwist’s last album, Close To The Glass, and in that time the various members of the group have been busy with side projects (Spirit Fest, Hochzeitskapelle, Alien Ensemble, Joasihno), guest appearances, a record label (Alien Transistor), movie scoring, helping organise the Minna Miteru compilation of Japanese indie pop & running a festival (Alien Disko). Those divergent paths feed back into Vertigo Days in surprising ways, from its structure, built from group improvisations, with songs flowing and melting into one another in a collective haze, to its spirit, which feels refreshed and alive. There’s something cinematic about Vertigo Days too, reflective of the group’s time working on soundtracks, and reflected in the rich, moody photographic artwork by Lieko Shiga that adorns the cover.

The first sign of this newfound openness was the album’s lead single, “Ship”, where the group were joined by Saya of Japanese pop duo Tenniscoats, her disarmingly hymnal voice sighing over a propulsive, Krautrocking beat. Elsewhere, American multi-instrumentalist Ben LaMar Gay sings on “Oh Sweet Fire”, also contributing “a love lyric for these times, imagining two lovers in an uprising hand in hand.” American jazz clarinettist and composer Angel Bat Dawid adds clarinet to the spaced-out dream-pop of “Into The Ice Age”, while Argentinian electronica songwriter Juana Molina gifts some gorgeous singing and electronics to “Al Sur”. Saya also reappears as a member of Japanese brass band Zayaendo, who guest on the album. Throughout, The Notwist also capture the openness of their live performances, too, where they mix and link their songs in unexpected ways.

Indeed, what’s most impressive about Vertigo Days is the way it sits together as one long, flowing suite, the album conceptualised as a whole entity – it’s perfect for the long-distance, dedicated listening experience. This is also captured by the album’s lyrics, which Markus states, “feel more like one long poem.” The dimensions of that poem are multi-faceted, something intensified by the geopolitical weirdness of its times: “As the situation changed so dramatically, while we were working on the record, the theme of ‘the impossible can happen anytime,’ more about personal relationships in the beginning, became a global and political story.” But it also works at a level of poetic abstraction, such that each song gestures in multiple directions – the deeply private pans out to the global. The one certainty is that there is no certainty. “It’s maybe mostly about learning and how you never arrive anywhere,” Markus concurs. To sit within uncertainty is brave, but it’s also where we feel most alive, and Vertigo Days is an album that is brimming with life, with enthusiasm and love for music and for community, all wide-eyed and dreaming.

2023 Repress on Yellow Vinyl

On Vertigo Days, the first album in seven years for The Notwist, one of Germany’s most iconic independent groups are alive to the possibilities of the moment. Their music has long been open-minded and exploratory, but from its engrossing structure, through its combination of melancholy pop, clangorous electronics, hypnotic Krautrock and driftwork ballads, to its international musical guests, Vertigo Days is both a new step for The Notwist, and a reminder of just how singular they’ve always been. Most importantly, the core trio of Markus and Micha Acher and Cico Beck are reaching out: as Markus reflects, “we wanted to question the concept of a band by adding other voices and ideas, other languages, and also question or blur the idea of national identity.”

It’s been seven years since The Notwist’s last album, Close To The Glass, and in that time the various members of the group have been busy with side projects (Spirit Fest, Hochzeitskapelle, Alien Ensemble, Joasihno), guest appearances, a record label (Alien Transistor), movie scoring, helping organise the Minna Miteru compilation of Japanese indie pop & running a festival (Alien Disko). Those divergent paths feed back into Vertigo Days in surprising ways, from its structure, built from group improvisations, with songs flowing and melting into one another in a collective haze, to its spirit, which feels refreshed and alive. There’s something cinematic about Vertigo Days too, reflective of the group’s time working on soundtracks, and reflected in the rich, moody photographic artwork by Lieko Shiga that adorns the cover.

The first sign of this newfound openness was the album’s lead single, “Ship”, where the group were joined by Saya of Japanese pop duo Tenniscoats, her disarmingly hymnal voice sighing over a propulsive, Krautrocking beat. Elsewhere, American multi-instrumentalist Ben LaMar Gay sings on “Oh Sweet Fire”, also contributing “a love lyric for these times, imagining two lovers in an uprising hand in hand.” American jazz clarinettist and composer Angel Bat Dawid adds clarinet to the spaced-out dream-pop of “Into The Ice Age”, while Argentinian electronica songwriter Juana Molina gifts some gorgeous singing and electronics to “Al Sur”. Saya also reappears as a member of Japanese brass band Zayaendo, who guest on the album. Throughout, The Notwist also capture the openness of their live performances, too, where they mix and link their songs in unexpected ways.

Indeed, what’s most impressive about Vertigo Days is the way it sits together as one long, flowing suite, the album conceptualised as a whole entity – it’s perfect for the long-distance, dedicated listening experience. This is also captured by the album’s lyrics, which Markus states, “feel more like one long poem.” The dimensions of that poem are multi-faceted, something intensified by the geopolitical weirdness of its times: “As the situation changed so dramatically, while we were working on the record, the theme of ‘the impossible can happen anytime,’ more about personal relationships in the beginning, became a global and political story.” But it also works at a level of poetic abstraction, such that each song gestures in multiple directions – the deeply private pans out to the global. The one certainty is that there is no certainty. “It’s maybe mostly about learning and how you never arrive anywhere,” Markus concurs. To sit within uncertainty is brave, but it’s also where we feel most alive, and Vertigo Days is an album that is brimming with life, with enthusiasm and love for music and for community, all wide-eyed and dreaming.

2023 Repress: Limited Transparent Yellow, 3-sided Vinyl, heavy wide-spine outer sleeve, printed inners! On Vertigo Days (Release: 2021), the first album in seven years for The Notwist, one of Germany"s most iconic independent groups are alive to the possibilities of the moment. Their music has long been open-minded and exploratory, but from its engrossing structure, through its combination of melancholy pop, clangorous electronics, hypnotic Krautrock and driftwork ballads, to its international musical guests, Vertigo Days is both a new step for The Notwist, and a reminder of just how singular they"ve always been. Most importantly, the core trio of Markus and Micha Acher and Cico Beck are reaching out: as Markus reflects, "we wanted to question the concept of a band by adding other voices and ideas, other languages, and also question or blur the idea of national identity."

Alien Transistor present Alien Parade Japan, a joyous double-album compilation of groups from Japan’s indie-pop and avant-garde undergrounds, all of which feature brass or woodwind instruments as part of their line-up. Compiled by Markus Acher (Alien Transistor, The Notwist, Hochzeitskapelle) with plenty of support and help from his Spirit Fest bandmate, Saya (also of Tenniscoats), it features some familiar names – Tenniscoats, naturally, but also Zayaendo, Tori Kudo’s Maher Shalal Hash Baz – alongside lesser-known groups like Biobiopatata, Mitamurakandadan?, Kourakuen, sekifu, and Noah Lewis Mahlon’ Taits, amongst many others.

The collection of songs here rests upon a simple question, and an interesting parallel: Why do so many groups from Japan include brass and woodwind, and how closely does this echo the scene that Acher is involved with in Munich? The idea was formulated in Acher’s mind after one of his groups, Hochzeitskapelle, had been invited by Saya to Japan in 2019, to take part in the Alien Parade Japan tour. “Saya and her friends recommended a lot of music to me that I didn’t know of,” Acher recalls, “and I was surprised and excited to find so many Japanese bands who use brass and woodwind instruments.”

This approach was something Acher had been familiar with for a while, thanks to his experiences in Munich: “Until then I thought of the Munich scene, where Hochzeitskapelle come from, as being quite unique in having ex-punk and still-indie musicians form loud acoustic bands with many brass instruments and play a wild mixture of styles.” And indeed, that variety is reflected in the twenty-two songs on Alien Parade Japan, which flits from the pastoral melody of Maher Shalal Hash Baz’s “Crossin The Tama River”, through the tenderness of various sighhorns’s “people have called them flowers”, to the folksy lament of Gratin Carnival’s “Just Watching”.

Alien Parade Japan reaches further afield, too, drawing in some groups, like HOSE, Fuigo, and popo, that feature musicians like Toshihiro Koike, Masafumi Ezaki and Taku Unami, who may be better known for their experimental and improvised releases on labels like ftarri and Erstwhile. It also looks back to material recorded in the 1990s - the swinging slide guitars and sax/tuba duet of Strada’s “Swamp”, from 1998, and Compostela’s energetic, rousing “ghhgh”, from 1990. Both pieces were written by, and feature, saxophonist Kanji Nakao; Compostela’s membership also included late saxophonist Masami Shinoda, who was also part of such storied Japanese groups as Pungo, A-Musik, Orquestra Del Viento, Ché-SHIZU, and the fiery free jazz outfit, Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai.

Groups like Compostela help to draw some through-lines to the aesthetics of chindon’ya, a type of Japanese marching band made up of costumed street performers who advertise businesses; the music made by these bands is brash, spirited, and full of energy. Alien Parade Japan weaves all of this together – chindon’ya; jazz; indie-pop; psych-folk; big band – into one beautiful, big tapestry of gorgeous melody, sweetness, and melancholy, with plenty of creative fraying at its edges. “The collection is a very personal view of Japanese bands using brass and woodwind instruments,” Acher concludes: “it’s not a representative anthology, it’s mainly held together by my personal taste, experiences, and friendships.” But it’s also a wonderfully coherent collection of some of the most playful and elated music you’re likely to hear this year. As musician and writer David Grubbs says:

„Now it is confirmed: my favorite genre of music is Alien Parade Japan. Hopefully now people will know what I’m talking about when I gush about the unassailable brilliance of longtime favorites like Maher Shalal Hash Baz, Popo, Mitamurakandadan?, Hose, and Tenniscoats, presented here alongside others whose music I have only begun to search out. Please share in my gratitude and enjoyment of this lovingly assembled collection, one that I welcome into my home as I would a long-anticipated guest.“