After moving in a pop direction with the Sign and Mimic Robot EPs, Nobukazu Takemura returns with zeal to the noisier, more abstract territory of his Thrill Jockey debut Scope. The material on Water's Suite was originally recorded near the time of Scope, back in 1998, and as Takemura sets out in the liner notes, he had specific goals in mind for this project. The particulars are difficult to parse, due in equal measure to my middling grasp of MIDI gear and Takemura's only slightly better command of the English language. From what I gather, Takemura programmed a series of melodies and harmonies in MIDI, and then inserted randomness into the equation by heavily riding the scrub control when playing back the programmed sequence through a Yamaha MU15 sound module.
Obviously, this is going to be a serious departure for those who hopped on the Takemura Train with the cutesy videogame pop of "Sign." There are no robot voices here, no Nintendo chord sequences, not even a single drum machine hit. Instead, Water's Suite is a dark, dense world of sound where, as DC Berman would say, random rules. Though you can tell that the tones on Water's Suite are in the same key and bear some relationship to each other, patterns beyond that require some downright scientific listening.
It's fun to don the lab coat once in a while, though, right? Here are my findings: "Part 1" is probably my favorite music here, because it's by far the most focused. Opening with a slow fade up, "Part 1" is based around a whining drone comprised of an unsteady group of mid-range tones. Behind these drawn-out notes is a constantly flickering bed of noise, little clicks and pops that give a hint on how all the music thereafter will be constructed. It's an evocative piece of nervous atmosphere.
When "Part 2" comes in, the template suggested in "Part 1" is realized: It's an endless cascade of notes from a percussive synth patch that sounds a bit like a xylophone. Earlier Takemura reference points are Scope's "Icefall" and Funfair's "The Cradle of Light", but this is far less musical. From the start of "Part 2", the stream of tones is so fast as to remain uncountable. There are probably something like 1/512 notes, thick enough to fill the space completely. Periodically, the onslaught takes on another form and a section of feedback replaces it, or else bunches of quick notes will cluster into larger patterns. This, my friends, is not an easy listen.
Water's Suite is devolutionary music, sounds freed from ordered perfection. Takemura hints at this in the liner notes, where he describes being inspired by the earthquakes in Kyoto: "The strange waves of sound at that moment seem to have a rule, but there is no rule at all." Takemura's title provides another clue as to what's going on: the endless variation of water flowing over rock is another apt metaphor.
Things are less hectic on "Part 3", as the rush of notes slows to a trickle and the opening drones make another appearance. Still, any possibility of relaxation is obliterated by sharp, repeating jab of a synth note that sounds like a suffering computer saying "baaap!" The 22-minute "Part 5" is the album's 'centerpiece,' I suppose, but it's mostly endless reworkings of ideas expressed earlier.
While the notion of constructing a small, detailed ecosystem of sound is interesting enough, the core elements of that world have to exert some kind of tug to pull the listener in. All the way through Water's Suite, I'm intrigued by the complexity of the album's patterns, but I feel suspended on the surface, gazing in from afar instead of feeling immersed. It's an interesting album, but sometimes music this abstract still manages to carry emotional weight (I'm thinking here of something like Ovalprocess). Water's Suite is one for the musical physicists only.
