Too much information doesn't have to result in an overdriven feedback of static and confusion, though in music, it often does. Representing the onslaught of global culture, media and technology invite temptation to over-saturate, and though that may be one accurate portrait of the (post) modern world, I'm not sure it's the most realistic.
Artists like John Oswald, John Zorn and Otomo Yoshihide have specialized in a kind of caricature of this world in their music: taking bits and pieces of information and entertainment around them, they pieced together rather intimidating documents of what would be a disorientating environment to say the least. Flashes of light, shrieks, blasts of electricity, jagged, jump-cut samples racing by before we know what hit us: if every night were New Years' Eve in Times Square, and all the while murder, childbirth and war were raging in the streets, this would be the perfect soundtrack. But every day is not like this.
Former Boredoms' guitarist Seiichi Yamamoto seems to recognize the space in between the chaos. It's not for lack of activity in his world: in addition to 15-year stint with Boredoms, he has led his own bands Omoide Hatoba, Rashinban and Akabushi, and performed with Rovo, Most, Novo Tono and Ontoko. He also owns the influential Osaka club Bears where scores of hopeful young noise-addicts try to prove their dissonance on a nightly basis. Furthermore, Yamamoto has released a handful of solo guitar albums, wherein he joins the scratching-and-clawing ranks of fellow improvisers Fred Frith and Eugene Chadbourne. His musical experience is as varied as it is longstanding, and I wouldn't blame him for turning to skronk now and again.
Nu Frequency, Yamamoto's fourth solo release, demonstrates that you don't need to explode into schizophrenic noise to run the gamut of lively sensations. Working with the excellent female drummer China, Yamamoto concocts a sprawling mix of free jazz-informed ensemble interaction, post-rock production (think To Rococo Rot, not Sigur Ros) and his own shimmering, restless guitar. Whenever a melody appears, it's quickly obscured by rogue percussion or a sudden bass spike. Throughout, rather than emphasize the traditional, he opts for the extreme, but instead of amounting to an hour of pummeling hysterics, Nu Frequency is a sustained journey into the unresolved and mundane. The "frequency" may be at times piercing, rumbling or soothing, but taken as a whole, Yamamoto's spectrum of sound is even-keeled and non-confrontational.
After the short, shiny introduction of "Convergence", "Acceleration" comes on like a small orchestra of contemporary jazz spirits. China's ever-tapping cymbals propose a meter that isn't restricted by actual time, while multiple guitars noodle away in the distance. Synthesized flutes cry over deep, repetitive bass lines, both of which give way to Yamamoto's chord clusters. If it sounds like a mess, it's probably more than you think. Still, it strikes me as a perfectly natural distillation of just about everything the composer has been doing musically over the past few years, only all at once. "Seed" continues the off-kilter mix, but does offer a passive melody via guitars and a piano line that is somewhere between counterpoint and just being lost. Flighty, top-heavy percussion makes things seem more disorganized than they really are, and much in the same way Scott LaFaro's basslines gave Bill Evans room to stretch, Yamamoto offers himself ample canvas over which to splatter.
There are moments of eclectic beauty, as on "Yarn", wherein the composer uses only a guitar to create a faint, calm tonality under which clicks, sputters and reverberated feedback dance like the last sparks of dying fire. In other hands, the balance of ambience and experimentalism might not hold, but here it's the model of poignancy. And of course, the album ends on a kinetic, drum-led track that wouldn't sound out of place on a Rovo disc-- I guess there's no accounting for flow. Nevertheless, for most of the album, you'll probably be able to drift off into near-trance without fear of reproach or noise explosions. Nice and uneasy.
