And just as the early days of man were still dripping from primordial dew, the early form of a band can often be underdeveloped. Consider all the factors. There's the concept, because who doesn't have an angle these days? There's the image: what are they going to stand for, and who's supposed to think they're cool? There's the labor: how will the band get heard, and get its rather angular, imaginary message across? There's the people: what combination of personality disorders will help them achieve all they desire? And lastly, there's the music: what mixture of influences and accidents are they going to hide when their record gets played (hopefully)? It's a wonder bands ever happen at all.
The notion of personalities (and their various disorders) should never be underestimated as the band gathers form and direction. I imagine that one or two dominant forces will be the impetus for starting the group, and may preside as reining catalysts for the major decisions at first (see above). Over time, the other members will either go along with the plan, or assert their visions into the group dynamic. Sometimes that means things fall apart, but if not, interesting reactions can happen. Or not. It almost seems a stroke of luck, with no more predetermination than a coin toss, whether the band exists for very long.
I've written about a few Japanese bands for Pitchfork, and as you may or may not know, several of the players are known to move in and out of other bands and projects. When I look back on it, many of these projects seem more like one-time affairs, or just chance encounters that happened to be recorded. A few of the projects are long-term, but even many of those feature people who are known better for playing other music, or with other people. I've always wondered how the same pool of talent keeps mixing and remixing with itself to produce so much interesting sound. Of course, the musicians are quite good and experienced and such, but I was taught in Rock Journalism 201 (probably Christgau's section, the old hag) that talent doesn't guarantee anything except raised expectations for the listener.
Kikuchi Naruyoshi used to play with a very nice band called Tipographica. They were never a big club act, but maintained a fairly widespread following for fans of avant-garde rock and free jazz, making something of a Zappa noise, though in that infamously hectic Japanese style. Unfortunately, they broke up (personality issues? Money? Ran out of impossibly complicated heads?), and went their own ways. Naruyoshi started playing free improv and spacy fusion with his Tokyo Zawinul Bach duo, maybe because after so many years in a large ensemble (Tipo was six strong), two guys seemed an easier task to manage. But that can't be right, because he then formed a huge band with a huge name called Date Course Pentagon Royal Garden.
This band has 10-12 people at any given moment (of which Otomo Yoshihide is probably the most well known in the West, though other eminent figures are involved as well). They also bring a touch of fusion to the mix, but as often will play 20-minute noise-trance, perhaps similar to Rovo (with whom they released a split CD) or even Tortoise if they upped the noise quotient a bit. This is all well and good, but given the fact so many people are involved, and perhaps due to Naruyoshi's relatively quick change in direction, their most recent release seems a tad underdeveloped.
Report from Iron Mountain (named after a confidential U.S. government war report from the early 60s, as well as a prominent Japanese "live-house" where the band has appeared) features about half lengthy experimental tunes, and half straight ahead funk-fusion. Okay, what's so special about that? "Catch 22" starts things off in a very cool way by playing trance from an unbalanced point of view. Multiple drummers play in seemingly multiple meters and tempos, while a Fender Rhodes figure repeats, and synth noise tears apart any unnecessary tonality. A lady says "I'm something special" a few times, though it's not as if anyone has to convince me on the merits of turning workaday post-rock into an anarchic symphonette. About midway through, things take a change for the violent, as the tempo increases threefold, and the bass degenerates into a two-note pattern, all the while supporting a very fiery guitar solo. It seems as if Naruyoshi's tendency to jazz things up has been overtaken by the group noise.
"Play Mate at Hanoi" is much more low-key, almost like something Return to Forever would have done during one of Chick Corea's less dramatic moments. A very 70s analog synthline plays a fluid lead, while the bass and restrained, upbeat percussion accompanies. An organ jumps out of the right speaker, similar to some of the playing on the early Miles Davis fusion records, wherein the organ acted more as a confrontational coloring element than actual comping instrument. This leads to a nice soprano sax solo, and the tune is well within the domain of standard fusion. A pretty abrupt change from the first tune, but that's not really strange in itself.
That is, until "S." This begins with a very lounge-y funk figure on guitar (surely, not Yoshihide, though he is one of the credited guitar players), and some roller-rink organ. The band enters with congas and something of a samba-rock beat. I step back, and to my horror, realize the band is playing cocktail music, like you hear on cruises and commercials for said cruises. Another soprano solo ensues, and is so smooth I wonder if this is even the same band that played the first song. And it lasts for almost eleven minutes like that! Later, the band pulls a similar trick on their cover of "Hey Joe," playing very standard (and often corny) funk-rock for about ten minutes before I come to the realization they're not going anywhere ironic with this. We're talking music with the edge of a mouthwash ad.
There is a bit of redemption in "Circle/Line~Hard Core Peace," where they play more fusion licks, but bring in a touch of polyrhythmic groove, and a tad more excitement to the barrage of soprano solos. However, I'm still left with the sting of unfulfilled promise from the first tune, and wondering if these guys should ever have made this record. Maybe it sounds better live, or perhaps that everything was recorded at different dates (and in three different studios) signifies that the concept for how the band should sound changed from time to time. I'm a huge fan of juxtaposing genres and concepts, and certainly like to see all my favorite players get together, but Report from Iron Mountain seems to me like what happens when group dynamic and development is overwhelmed by lack of focus. As a result, underwhelming.
