Suche:kawaguchi masami

Chita, the third album proper by Japanese guitar pop trio Usurabi, is their most elegant, stylish confection yet. Over the past four years, Toshimitsu Akiko (vocals, guitar), Kawaguchi Masami (bass) and Morohashi Shigeki (drums) have been recording, playing live, and releasing songs of rare melodic warmth, centring Toshimitsu’s unique musical vision, where melancholy and joy can co-exist, a split-second flick of her wrist switchblading the guitar from languorous sweetness to overloaded rock action.

Chita expands on the smartly sculpted pop and rock songs found on their previous albums, Remains Of The Light (2021) and Outside Of The World (2023), while infusing the music with more of the rough- housing energy that also coursed through the live CD, Once In A Red Room, they self-released in January 2024. There’s still a through-line, of course, that connects the music here to Toshimitsu’s earlier groups, Doodles and Animone, but Chita feels more deeply like a sussed, sharp take on the crumbling edges of sixties psychedelic folk and rock: the harmonica that blasts through the opener, “Bansho”, is pure Dylan in effect.

One of the many smart things about Usurabi, though, is that they never feel beholden to the historical moment. Soon after “Bansho”, we encounter “TurnOff”, a lush pop song that turns on a dime, with Toshimitsu tearing fuzztone notes from six strings that are like a more folk-reverent Kaneko Jutok. And there’s something about the guitar and bass riff that doubles through the thrilling two-and-a-half minutes of “Hakanonaka” that’s a dead ringer for the Only Ones. Flip the record, and things get more expansive, the spindly jangling of the title song spiralling ever inwards, before the sweet, sugary rush of “Kanata” resolves to the martial rhythms that pulse through “Aseranai”, winding the album down to its poetic, becalmed resolution.

»Outside of the world«, the second album by Japanese trio Usurabi, is a rare pleasure – a guitar pop album that’s deep with spirit, bristling with energy, melodically rich and precious: full of life. It’s even more thrilling than its predecessor, 2021’s Remains of the Light, also released by An’archives, its eight songs falling together just perfectly. If you’ve ever swooned to the sound of rattling, humming organs on countless ‘60s garage rock sides, the wistful beauty of David Roback and Kendra Smith’s music as Opal, the brittle immediacy of those 80s EPs from New Zealand acts like The Clean and The Chills, you’ll find plenty to love here.

The line-up’s still the same: the songs are written by Toshimitsu Akiko, previously a member of Doodles and Aminome; playing behind her is drummer Morohashi Shigeki and bass player Kawaguchi Masami, who’d previously played together in Kawaguchi’s legendary Broomdusters, where Kawaguchi really started to establish himself as one of Japan’s greatest rock guitarists. But Usurabi is very much Toshimitsu’s vehicle, a space for her to gift her gorgeous songs to the world, with Kawaguchi and Morohashi helping guide the songs into the light. Indeed, one thing that’s particularly noticeable about »Outside of the world« is the way all three musicians act in service to what the songs demand.

So »Meet again, outside of the worl«” opens the album with a beautiful 60s garage sway, all buzzing organs and Toshimitsu’s beautifully clear voice. »Even if it’s a lie« bristles with energy and tension, its driving rhythms recalling groups like The Feelies, but with Toshimitsu’s surf rock guitar riding the waves. »Pura« is pensive and melancholy, its graceful slow motion dissolving into a free-form section where Kawaguchi and Morohashi drill down into the earth, a fiercely responsive rhythm duo, while waves of coruscating noise guitar soar out into the ether; »Waves« is a stately closer, crushing guitars cossetting a slow, martial rhythm.

Recorded over 2021 and 2022, »Outside of the world« is a more than worthy follow-up to both »Remains of the Light «and the limited cassette, »Further closer«, released in 2022 on Kawaguchi’s Purifivia imprint. It has Usurabi stretching out, letting their songs breathe when they need, and tightening the screws on other songs so they become perfect pop statements. There’s plenty of joy and pleasure here, and a gentle but determined melancholy; inviting and beautifully sculpted, Outside of the world is a quiet masterpiece.

Edition of 400, comes in a 2 colors (gold & black) silkscreened on heavy jacket with obi (black or patterned light pink), with inserts and a postcard. Special A3 (fold out) full color & duotone insert by Andrew Chalk. Printed by Alan Sherry. Liner notes by Jon Dale.

Kusōzu : Nine Death Stages is the second album by the Tokyo trio Archeus, which consists of Keiko Higuchi (voice, percussion, trombone, shamisen), Shizuo Uchida (bass strings), and TOMO (hurdy gurdy, voice). It follows their debut, self-titled and self-released CD and cassette from 2021 and is further proof – if any were needed – that these musicians, who’ve known each other for some time, but only started playing together relatively recently, share a telepathic communication, improvising together, fully in the moment, and as one. Where their debut album featured four extended improvisations, Kusōzu is an object lesson in economy and clarity – nine tracks, thirty-three minutes, everything that needs be said and nothing more.

All three musicians are incredibly active in the Japanese underground. Higuchi currently plays with Sachiko in Albedo Fantastica, adding Uchida for Albedo Gravitas; Uchida and Higuchi team up with Masami Kawaguchi (guitar) in vDBG. She’s also recorded with improvisers such as Naoto Yamagishi, Yasumune Morishige, and Shin-Ichiro Kanda. Uchida is also a member of MAI MAO, Kito-Mizukumi Rouber, Hasegawa-Shizuo, UH, and TERROR SHIT, and he’s recently recorded with improvising guitarist Takashi Masubuchi; TOMO has previously been a member of Tetragrammaton and Pouring High Water, and has recently performed live with Mick of Kousokuya, Mitsuru Tabata, Keiji Haino, and Daisuke Takaoka.

While Higuchi and Uchida have been making music together for some time now, they appear careful not to impose their previously articulated lexicon to bear on Archeus. There are trace elements of their playerly voices still present – the stretchy, plastic scrabbling on bass strings from Uchida; Higuchi’s murmurations of tone, and sudden plunges back down to earth, vertiginous and woozy – but there are other things going on here, particularly with TOMO joining in the action. His hurdy gurdy is a wild card in a group of wild cards, here cranking out burred, purring drones, there fidgeting through floods of notes, cranked up really high, ducking and weaving between Higuchi and Uchida as the three pursue the eternal now that is core to the best improvised music.

Archeus seem to work alchemically, transmuting their base matter into gold. Named after the Buddhist art practice of kusōzu, the graphic painting of nine stages of a decaying corpse in the open air, “to demonstrate the effects of impermanence,” as scholar Gail Chin once wrote.

Kusōzu : Nine Death Stages is Archeus at their most rigorously attentive to each other’s playing, and by the end, the music is itself thinking and feeling.