For their 2004 album, noise rock group Boredoms created two very different tracks.
For anyone curious to explore the world of Japanese music outside of the hugely popular pop and rock genres, be prepared to take a few steps out of your comfort zone and into some of the country's more experimental and conceptual genres - and there's no better way to start than with Japanoise. A portmanteau of "Japanese" and "noise," the Japanese noise scene has made huge strides in and out of Japan; it takes an artistic and avant-garde approach to music, transforming seemingly commonplace or dissonant sounds into something else entirely.
It's probably not possible to fully experience Japanoise without listening to Boredoms, a noise rock band that has been around for more than two decades and achieved critical and cult status outside of Japan. Again, be prepared to take a few steps outside of your comfort zone when listening to them. Not for the faint of heart or narrow-minded, their creations are spontaneous, unconventional, wild and occasionally, quite perplexing - but always an unearthly and almost magical experience. Their 2004 CD, Seadrum/House of Sun, gives just a peek into their work and range.
Seadrum/House of Sun contains only the two songs in its title, Seadrum and House of Sun, but each is a twenty-minute-plus long opus of pure sound. If you don't think you'll be able to sit through it, hold on for just a second - at least listen through the first song, Seadrum. The piece starts off with a minimal approach, with only band member Yoshimi's folksy vocalizations. From just the first minute of her vocalizations, there is a remarkable tension from the simplicity that drives the piece forward and into the next part of the song, which contains multi-layered rhythmic tribal drums with a melody and harmony of their own. Gradually joining the drums are sliding piano parts and more vocalizations. While the concept of such a mix - tribal drums, almost haphazardly played piano, and unusual vocals - might seem dissonant and convoluted, for Boredoms it is an ingenious exploration of textures and tones, layers and transformations.
Around the thirteen-minute point, Boredoms takes away the pulsating tribal drums, leaving listeners with piano, vocals and a conventional drum set. While this combination sounds much more sober, it still possesses the same depth and resonance. Seadrum is a shimmering piece of highs and lows, tensions and releases. It possesses a masterful mix of spontaneity and careful calculation. Not one moment repeats throughout the song, and ultimately, what you have with Seadrum is not just a twenty-three-minute long song, but a twenty-three-minute long journey.
Unfortunately, the journey stops there. The next track, House of Sun, is not up to par with its predecessor, and it's rather disappointing, given the fact that Seadrum was so meticulously composed and balanced. House of Sun is essentially just sitars, fiddle, and a drone layered one on top of the other. The combination of these instruments is unusual in theory, but in reality, the execution is painfully lacking in the finesse and energy that was present in Seadrum. There is little variation in the tones or volumes of any of the instruments, and there are no special moments that will take a listener by surprise.
Seadrum will take listeners on a trip and thoroughly stimulate their auditory senses, whereas House of Sun is like waiting for a train that never comes. Even though it's a tad dismaying that Boredoms delivered two songs so opposite in terms of balance and composition, their willingness to experiment and transform sound is undeniable.
