「pan sonic」と一致するもの

　これまた2019年の重要作となりそうなタイトルの登場だ。フローティング・ポインツが待望のニュー・アルバム『Crush』を10月18日にリリースする。４年前のファースト・アルバム『Elaenia』以降、「Kuiper」や『Reflections』ではバンドを結成し、ロック的なアプローチに取り組んできたフローティング・ポインツだけれど、この７月にリリースされたシングル「LesAlpx / Coorabell」で彼は一気にダンスへと回帰している。今回公開された新曲“Last Bloom”もエレクトロのビートが効いている。ベリアルやテンダーロニアスがそうであったように、UKのアンダーグラウンドはいまテクノへの傾斜を強めている感があるが、フローティング・ポインツのこの新作はその流れを決定づけるものになりそうだ。それに、トラックリストを眺めていると、何やら意味深な言葉が並んでいる。タイトルも「粉砕」だし、テーマも深く練られているにちがいない。この秋最大の注目作である。

　これはビッグ・ニュースだ。去る２月、デヴィッド・ファースによるWebアニメ・シリーズ『Salad Fingers』の新作に音楽を提供していることが話題となったばかりのフライング・ロータスだけれど、なななんと、渡辺信一郎による最新アニメ『キャロル＆チューズデイ』にもコンポーザーとして参加していることが明らかとなった。さらに同作には、フライローの盟友たるサンダーキャットまで参加しているというのだから驚きだ。ほかに G.RINA、マイカ・ルブテ、☆Taku Takahashi が参加していることも発表され、音楽好きとして知られる渡辺総監督の気合いがひしひしと伝わってくる。
　また今回の発表にあわせ、ナルバリッチとベニー・シングスが手がけるOP・ED曲（ヴォーカルはナイ・ブリックスとセレイナ・アン）を収録したシングルが５月29日にリリースされることも決定、現在OP曲“Kiss Me”のMVが公開されている。ボンズ20周年×フライングドッグ10周年記念作品として送り出される『キャロル＆チューズデイ』、放送開始は１週間後の４月10日（フジテレビ「＋Ultra」、NETFLIXほか）。モッキーが劇伴を担当し、総監督みずからが音響監督を務める同作、けっして見逃すことなかれ。

［4月24日追記］
　本日、フライング･ロータスやサンダーキャットらが手がける劇中挿入歌を収録したヴォーカル・アルバム『VOCAL COLLECTON Vol.1』のリリースがアナウンスされた。発売日は７月10日。アニメ好きとして知られるフライロー＆サンダーキャットだけれど、まさかの本人アニソン・デビューである。いったいどんな曲に仕上がっているのやら。続報を待とう。

「あんなに楽しいフェスは経験したことがなかった。だからフェスが嫌いなひとのために、自分でもやってみようと思ったんだ」

　ポルトガルのマデイラ島で開催されている、マデイラディグ実験音楽フェスティヴァルのオーガナイズ・リーダーであるマイケル・ローゼンは、大西洋を見晴らす崖に面したホテルのバーのバルコニーに座っている。雨と汗と泥にまみれた、よくあるフェスの体験からは数百マイルも隔たった雰囲気がそこにはある。というかその雰囲気は、ほかのどんな場所にも似ていないものだ。
　フェスの来場者の大半が滞在する小さな町ポンタ・ド・ソルは、高く深い谷の上に位置している。フェスの運営を取り仕切るメインとなる中継地点であるホテル、エスタラージェン・ダ・ポンタ・ド・ソルはとくに素晴らしく、まるで崖沿いを切りだしたようにして作られていて、海に沿った通りからはただ、崖の岩肌を上に向かってホテルへと至る、すっきりとした作りのコンクリート製のエレヴェーターだけが見えている。

　エスタラージェンでのアフター・パーティーや毎晩行われるライヴはあるが、フェスのメインとなるプログラムは、ホテルから車ですこし移動したところにあるアート・センターで行われる、午後の二つのショーのみである。

　ローゼンは次のように述べている。「毎日たくさんのパフォーマンスが行われるフェスが好きじゃないんだ。テントを張って、雨が降って、人混みに囲まれてっていうやつがね。僕らが借りている会場のキャパは200人くらいで、それがちょうどホテルが受けいれられる上限でもあるから、そのくらいが集客の上限なんだよ」

　フェスは金曜の夜、ポルトガルのサウンド・アーティスト、ルイ・P・アンドラーデ＆アイレス［Rui P. Andrade & Aires］によるアンビエント・セットとともに開幕し、アナーキーで混沌としたフィンランドのデュオ、アムネジア・スキャナー［Amnesia Scanner］によるデス・ディスコがそれに続く。マデイラディグのプログラムはみな、多くの人が実験音楽と理解しているものの元にゆるやかに収まる音楽ばかりなわけだが、主催者側がはっきりと意図して普通とは異なったアプローチを見せているこの組みあわせ方によって、２組のアーティストのあいだにある違いが強調されることになっている。

アナ・ダ・シルヴァとフュー

　日曜日の夜は、不気味さや打楽器のような調子や、美しさや激しさのあいだで移り変わっていく自らの演奏から生みだされるループによって音楽を構築する、ポーランドのチェリスト、レジーナ［Resina］の演奏とともに始まる。彼女の演奏は、つねに変化するアニメーションによるコラージュや、戦争の映像、自然や文明や、コミュニケーションやテクノロジーといったものの相互の関係を映しだすヴィデオの上映を背景して行われる。コミュニケーションというテーマは、より遊び心に満ちたものとして、ただ一つのテーブル・ランプに照らしだされた多くの電子機材を前に演奏される、アナ・ダ・シルヴァ［Ana da Silva］とフュー［Phew］による、めまぐるしい展開によって方向感覚を狂わせるようなライヴのなかでも取りあげられている。参加したアーティストのなかで、フェスの開催日に到着したフューはもっとも遠くからやってきている人物だが、その一方でダ・シルヴァは、生まれ育った島に戻ってくるかたちとなっている。２人のアーティストのあいだにあるこのコントラストは、それぞれの言語を使い、ひとつひとつの言葉にたいし、ユニークかつときに不協和音的な解釈を与えている彼女たちのパフォーマンスそのもののなかにも、はっきりとその姿を見せているものだ。演奏のある地点で彼女たちは、曲間のおしゃべりの一部分を取りあげてループさせ、それをパフォーマンスのなかに組みこむことで、ライヴのもつ遊び心に満ちた親密な性格を強調している。

　ローゼンは、そうした彼女たちのライヴを生む根底にある自身の哲学を次のように説明している。「普通では一緒に見ることのないような二組のアーティストに同じ舞台に上がってもらうんだ。まったく異なっているように見えながら、だけど質の部分で繋がっているアーティストにね」

　こうしたアプローチは、ドイツのクラブ「キエツザロン」［Kiezsalon］で彼がオーガナイズしているイヴェントにも見られるもので、マデイラディグについて理解するためには、多少ベルリンのことについて触れておく必要がある。というのも、ローゼン以外のオーガナイザーだけではなく、オーディエンスの大半もその街からやってきているからだ。

　ローゼンはベルリンのシーンを退屈でバラバラなままの状態だと述べている。いわくそこには、すでに存在しているオーディエンスに媚びたありきたりなイヴェントばかりがあり、結果として、シーンやジャンルを分断する区別を強化することになっているのだという。オーストリアを拠点にしたスロバニアのミュージシャンであるマヤ・オソイニク［Maja Osojnik］もやはりこの点を繰りかえし、彼女が暮らしているウィーンも同じように、まれに土着的な「ヴィーナーリート」［Wienerlied］という民謡の一種がジャンルを横断した影響を見せているくらいで、パンクがあり実験的な音楽があるというかたちで、内部での音楽シーンの分断という状況にあると述べている。東京のインディーでアンダーグラウンドなシーンのなかに深くかかわっている人たちもきっと、すぐに同じような状況に思いあたることだろう。

マヤ・オソイニク

　マヤ・オソイニクは、パリを拠点としたカナダのミュージシャンであるエリック・シュノー［Eric Chenaux］による、キャプテン・ビーフハートの経由したニック・ドレイクといった雰囲気のジャズ・フォークの後に続いて、金曜日の夜の最後に出演した。シュノーの演奏が、いったん心地よく美しく伝統的な音楽的発想を取りあげ、それをさまざまなかたちで逸脱させていくことによって特徴づけられるものであるのにたいし、オソイニクの音楽は、不協和音の生みだすことを恐れることなくさまざまな要素を重ねていき、そのすべてが、彼女がときに「ディストピア的な日記」と呼ぶ、音によるひとつの物語をかたちづくるものにしている。全体の雰囲気や演奏に通底する低音やパルス音は、催眠的でインダストリアルな高まりを見せ、オソイニクのヴォーカルは、豊かな抑揚をもった中世の歌曲からポストパンクの熱を帯びた怒りまで、自在に変化していくものとなっている。

エリック・シュノー

　後に彼女と話したさいオソイニクは、同時代の音楽からの影響ももちろんあるが、古典的な音楽教育を受けてきのだという事実を明かしてくれた。一三〇〇年代にフランスのアヴィニオンに捕囚されていた教皇たちのためだけに作曲された、あまり知られていない音楽に興味があるのだと、興奮気味に彼女はいう。自身が受けてきた折衷的で渦を巻くような影響にかんして彼女は、次のように述べている。「いろんな音楽をアカデミックに学んでみた結果、そこには多くの並行性があることに気づいたんです。たしかに規則は違うし、アプローチも違う、根底にある美学も違っていますが、同じ鼓動が感じられるときがあるんです」

　シュノーとオソイニクが共有しているのは、二組のライヴがともにどこかで、人間は複雑で、つねに仲良く議論しているわけではないのだという事実を感じさせるものだという点にある。したがってオーディエンスにたいするメッセージは、オソイニクがいうとおり、「目を覚ますこと。受けとるだけでいるのをやめて、探すことをはじめること」にあるのだといえる。

　マデイラディグは、多くの点で伝統的な音楽フェスと異なるものとなっているわけだが、一方でそれは、参加する者たちのなかに普通とは異なる現実を創造するというその一点において、真の意味で伝統的なフェスティヴァルといえるものとなっている。フェスの初日の時点では、どこか気後れしたような初参加者と毎年参加しているヴェテランのあいだに目に見えるはっきりとした違いがあったが、フェスのオーガナイズの仕方によって、そこにはすぐに、その場にいる人間たちによる共同体の感覚が育まれることとなっていた。イベントの後の食事やエスタラージェン・ダ・ポンタ・ド・ソルでのアフター・パーティーは、交流の機会となり、毎回あるメイン会場への車での移動が、参加者をひとつにすることを促している。日中に辺りの自然のなかや最寄りの大きな町であるファンシャルへ旅することは二重の意味をもっていて、参加者がひとつのグループとして絆を深める機会となっていると同時に、イヴェントの会場でもあるホテルの盛りあがりからの息抜きとしても機能している。

　またマデイラ島は並外れて美しい島であると同時に、不思議なことにどこかで日本に似たところもある場所だといえる。通りに沿ってその島を旅していると、山がちな景色が必然的にトンネルのなかを多く通ることを強いてくるわけだが、気がつけばやがて古い通りに出て、島がその本当の姿を見せてくる。そこには雲を突きぬけ緑で覆われた、ぐっと力強く迫りだしている火山の多い地形があり、谷に沿って並ぶ家々や急な勾配に沿った畑があり、浅くコンクリートで舗装されれ、海まで続く川が見られる。海を見張らしながら、古い時代の商人たちが登った道のひとつを登っていたとき、ポルトガルの現地スタッフのひとりが、「この景色を見るためには、ここまで登ってこなきゃいけないんですよ」と述べていた。

　美しさを見いだすためには努力が必要だというこの発想は、風景についてだけではなく、音楽についても当てはまるものだろう。フェスの最終日は、カナダのアーティストであるジェシカ・モス［Jessica Moss］による繊細で複雑なヴァイオリンの演奏とともに始まる。彼女はマデイラディグに参加する多くのアーティスト同様、ループによってレイヤーを生みだし、自らの音楽のなかにテクスチャーとパターン（そしてパターン内部におけるパターン）を作りだしている。その後に続くのは、デンマークのデュオであるダミアン・ドゥブロヴニク［Damien Dubrovnik］によるハーシュ・ノイズの荒々しい音である。彼らはまるでモルモン教徒の制服のモデルのような出で立ちでステージに上がり、会場を音による恐怖で連打していく。

ダミアン・ドゥブロヴニク

　マデイラディグは間違いなく、オーディエンスにたいし、このフェスがステージ上で生みだそうとする美のために協力するように求めているのだといえるが、一般的にいって実験音楽にかんするイヴェントや、とくに遠方からの参加を前提とした特殊なフェスには、参加を阻む誤った種類の障害を設けてしまうという危険性が存在しているものである。すぐに思い当たることだが、日本で行われる同様のイベントは、全員ではないにしろ、多くの熱心なファンには厳しい金額が参加費として設定されているし、結果としてそのことが、音楽シーンの断片化を助長し、多くの地方都市における文化の空洞化に繋がることとなってしまっている。
　マデイラディグの参加費は目をみはるほど安い（チケットの料金は４日間で8000円ほどであり、ホテルの価格も納得のいく範囲に維持されている）。だがいずれにしてもそれは、もっぱら市場の情けによって生き残っているだけであるヨーロッパのアートを手助けしている、ファウンディング・モデルなしには機能しなかったものだといえるだろう。ローゼンはこうした状況を自覚したうえで、それでもやはり、難解で聞きなれないような音楽を集めるイヴェントは、可能なかぎりアクセスしやすいものではくてはならないという点にこだわる。

　「音楽にかかわりのないような人にも届いてほしいと思っているんだ」。「ホテルの予約間違い」でフェスを知り、結果として、いまでは毎年参加しているベルギーのカップルの話をしながら、ローゼンはそんなふうにいう。

　「文化を近づきやすいものにしたい。これは音楽だけじゃなく、文学でも哲学でも何でもそうであるべきだと思う。誰もが参加できるファンドによるフェス、政府から資金を引きだすフェスというかたちで、僕はそれを立証しているんだよ」

https://digitalinberlin.eu/program2018/

Madeiradig experimental music festival
November 30 (Fri) to December 3 (Mon)

by Ian F. Martin

“I've never been a fan of festivals, so I wanted to make one for people who don't like festivals.”

Michael Rosen, the lead organiser of the Madeiradig experimental music festival on the Portuguese island of Madeira, is sitting on the balcony of a hotel bar, situated on a cliffside overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It feels a million miles from a typical festival experience, drenched in a cocktail of rain, sweat and mud. It feels a million miles from anywhere.

The village of Ponta do Sol, where most of the festival guests stay, nestles in the mouth of a tall, deep valley. The main organisational hub of the festival's activities, the hotel Estalagem da Ponta do Sol, is a particularly striking, looking almost as if it has been carved out of the cliffsides, visible from the road only by the thin, concrete elevator shaft that rises skywards out of the rock towards the hotel proper.

The main festival programme is limited to two shows an evening, held at an arts centre a short coach ride away, while the Estalagem hosts after-parties with DJs and live acts into the morning every night.

“I don't like festivals where there are lots of performances every day – all the tents, rain, crowds,” explains Rosen, “The capacity of the auditorium we use is about 200 people, which is also all the hotels in Ponta do Sol can accommodate, so that’s the audience limit.”

The opening Friday night of the festival opens with a spacious, ambient set by Portuguese sound artists Rui P. Andrade & Aires, which is followed by the anarchic, chaotic death disco of Finnish duo Amnesia Scanner. While Madeiradig’s programme all falls loosely under what most people would understand as experimental music, it’s clear through the choices of pairings that the organisers are keen to see different approaches rub up against each other.

Saturday night opens with Polish cellist Resina, whose music builds around loops that draw from her instrument sounds variously eerie, percussive, beautiful and harsh. Set against this are video projections featuring an ever-shifting collage of animations and images exploring subjects such as war and the relationship between nature, civilisation, communication and technology. The theme of communication recurs more playfully in the lively and disorientating set by Ana da Silva and Phew, performing behind masses of electronic equipment and lit intimately by a single table lamp. Of all the artists at the festival, Phew has travelled by far the furthest to be there, having arrived from Japan on the first day, while da Silva is revisiting the island where she was born. This contrast between the two performers informs the performance, with each member delivering their vocals in the other’s language, adding their own unique and sometimes dissonant takes on the words. At one point, they pick up and loop what seem to be snatches of inter-song backchat and integrate that into the performance, reiterating the playful and intimate nature of the set.

Rosen explains his philosophy as being based on, “Placing two artists on the same stage who you wouldn’t normally see together. Artists who are connected in terms of quality, but nonetheless quite different.”

It's an approach that he follows with the “Kiezsalon” events he organises in Berlin as well, and in understanding Madeiradig, we really need to talk a bit about Berlin, since that's where not only othe organisers but the vast majority of the audience come from.

Rosen describes the scene in Berlin as boring and fragmented, with events typically pandering to existing audiences, in the process reinforcing the divisions that separate scenes and genres. Austrian-based Slovenian musician Maja Osojnik echoes the point, saying that her adopted hometown of Vienna suffers from similar internal divisions in the music scene, with punk, experimental and the unique local “Wienerlied” folk style rarely interacting. Anyone who has spent much time immersed in the Tokyo indie and underground music scene will find their complaints immediately familiar.

Maya Osojnik closed Sunday night after the rhythmically dislocated Nick Drake-via-Captain Beefheart jazz-folk of Paris-based Canadian musician Eric Chenaux. While Chenaux’ set was characterised by the way he would take conventionally pretty or beautiful musical ideas and then investigate multiply ways of knocking them off centre, Osojni's music layers element over element, not shying away from dissonance, but bringing them all together in the service of a single sonic narrative – what she sometimes calles a “dystopic diary”. Tones, drones and pulses build up to a hypnotic, industrial crescendo, Osojnik’s vocals ranging from richly intoned, almost medieval sounding singing to haranguing postpunk rage.

Speaking to her later, she reveals that, despite her more contemporary influences, she was classically trained and she talks excitedly about her interest in obscure music composed only for the exiled popes of the French town of Avignon in the 1300s. She explains her music's eclectic swirl of influences, saying, “Studying all this music academically made me realise that there were many parallels. There are different rules, different approaches, different aesthetics, but you can find the same heartbeat.”

Where Chenaux and Osojnik are perhaps similar is that their sets both feel in some way like people having complex and not always friendly discussions with themselves. The challenge to the audience is, as Osojnik puts it, “To wake up. To stop receiving and start seeking.”

Despite the many ways Madeiradig diverges from a traditional music festival, one way it is a traditional festival in a very real sense is in the way it creates a kind of alternate reality around its attendees. On the first day, there is a visible division between the rather intimidated-looking first-timers and the veterans who return every year, but the way the festival is organised very quickly fosters a sense of community among those present. Post-event food and after-party entertainment at the Estalagem da Ponta do Sol give us opportunities to interact, while the ritual of the coach trip to the main venue regularly hustles everyone together. During the daytime, trips into the countryside and the main town of Funchal served the dual purpose of giving us chance to bond as a group and at the same time breaking us out of the hotel-venue bubble.

And it has to be said that Madeira is an extraordinarily beautiful island, but also one in some ways strangely reminiscent of Japan. Travelling around it by road, the mountainous landscape means that you spend a lot of your time in tunnels, but finally finding our way out onto the old roads, the island’s real form revealed itself, the volcanic topography thrusting aggressively skyward, piercing the clouds, swaddled in thick vegetation, houses clinging to valleysides and farmland carved out of steep slopes, shallow, concrete-lined rivers racing seaward. Hiking along one of the crumbling ancient merchants’ roads, overlooking the ocean, one of the local Portuguese staff remarked that, “To get this beauty, you have to work for it.”

The idea that to find beauty requires effort feels just as appropriate to music as it does to a landscape. The closing night of the festival opens with the fragile, fractal violin of Canadian artist Jessica Moss, who, like many artists at Madeiradig uses loops to build layers, textures and patterns (and patterns within patterns) in her music. She is followed by a raw blast of harsh noise, delivered by Danish duo Damien Dubrovnik, who stalk the stage like models from a Mormon menswear catalogue, pummeling the theatre with sonic terror.

While Madeiradig undoubtedly wants its audience to work for the beauty it gives a stage to, there is always a danger with experimental music events in general, and exotic “destination festivals” in particular, that they put up the wrong kinds of barriers to participation. It's easy to imagine a similar event in Japan being priced far out of the ability of any but the most dedicated fans to access, and that in turn feeds the fragmentation of the music scene and contributes to the cultural hollowing-out of much of rural Japan.

Madeiradig is remarkably cheap (a festival ticket costs about ¥8,000 for four days, and the hotels are also kept very reasonable) and I don't think it's unfair to say that it would never be able to function without the arts funding model that ensures European arts aren't left solely at the mercy of the market. Rosen is aware of this situation, and adamant that an event offering difficult or unusual music needs to be as accessible as possible.

“I want to reach people who have nothing to do with music,” he explains, recounting the story of a couple from Belgium who discovered the festival because of “a booking mistake” and ended up returning every year.

“I want to make culture accessible, and this should be true not just for music but also literature, philosophy, anything,” he continues, “I make a point that at a funded festival – one that’s getting money from the government – anyone should be able to go.”

　ブリストルのアジソン・グルーヴは、ダブステップ～フットワークときて、そして最近では自身のレーベル〈Groove〉を拠点にハウスへと急接近している。UKガラージの要素も入った雑食的ハウスで、やっぱアジソン・グルーヴってなにやっても上手い。
　今回は、Trekkie Traxの一員でありながら、高崎を拠点に活動する若手DJ Ampsが仕切ってのツアーになる。3月上旬から３月末まで。UK最高のグルーヴを体験して欲しい！

　８月のソニックマニアをまえにし、俄然〈Brainfeeder〉が勢いづいております。ロス・フロム・フレンズ、ドリアン・コンセプトに続いて、ブランドン・コールマンが同レーベルと契約、９月14日に新作をリリースします。カマシ・ワシントンやライアン・ポーターの作品でもおなじみの彼ですが、きたるリーダー作ではどんなサウンドを届けてくれるのか。先行公開された“Giant Feelings”を聴いて待っていましょう。

うー、午前3時間の試合は生活のリズムが狂いますなー。しかし、泣いても笑っても今週までです。
で、ロシアといえば、じつは今週から来週にかけて、モスクワをベースに活動しているプロデューサー／DJ／演奏家／ヴォーカリスト、ケイト・シロノソヴァによるソロ・プロジェクトKate NVが単独としては初の来日ツアーをしています。

2016年に〈Orange Milk Records〉からリリースしたファースト・アルバム『BINASU』がシンセ・ポップ傑作として各所で絶賛され、その類い稀なるセンスは現代エクスペリメンタル・ミュージック・シーンの最先鋭レーベル、 〈RVNG Intl.〉の目にとまり、契約を果たし、ぐっとミニマルなエレクトロニック～アンビエント・ミュージックへアプローチしたセカンド・アルバム『для FOR』を6月に発売予定。さらにはAngel Deradoorianとの共作でも注目を集める中、絶好のタイミングでの来日となります。

今回の来日公演では、シンセポップ的な『BINASU』セット、ミニマル〜アンビエント寄りの『RVNG』セットの両方を披露する予定です。是非ご来場ください。


https://www.artuniongroup.co.jp/plancha/top/news/kate-nv-japan-tour-2018/





PLANCHA 10th Anniversary Vol.2

KATE NV JAPAN TOUR 2018

7/16(月・祝): 大阪 @SOCORE FACTORY (BINASU / RVNG mix set)
7/19(木): 東京 @KATA (RVNG set)
7/20(金): 東京 @KATA (BINASU set)
7/21(土): 新潟 @木揚場教会 (BINASU / RVNG mix set)



 

大阪公演
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Osaka Supported by POW




日程：2018年7月16日(月・祝)
時間：開演/16:00
会場：大阪 @SOCORE FACTORY [https://socorefactory.com]
料金：前売2,500円(1ドリンク込) / 当日3,000円(1ドリンク込)

LIVE：
Kate NV [BINASU / RVNG mix set]
テンテンコ
CVN

DJ：
BIOMAN
souj
miharu
POW (zico, BABY)

※チケット予約は『POW 前売り予約フォーム』からご予約が出来ます
【https://goo.gl/forms/TN3VpYTumsyQHTU42】
お名前、メールアドレス、枚数をご記入のうえ送信ボタンを押してください。

主催：POW
https://popowpowpow.tumblr.com/


 

東京公演①
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Tokyo Day 1 [RVNG set]



日程：2018年7月19日(木)
時間：開場 19:00 / 開演 19:30
会場：恵比寿 @KATA [https://kata-gallery.net/]
料金：前売3,000円(別途1ドリンク代) / 当日3,500円(別途1ドリンク代)
(Day 2にもご来場の方は500円のキャッシュバック）

LIVE：
Kate NV [RVNG set]
dip in the pool (Special Guest)
角銅真実

DJ：
Shhhhh

主催：PLANCHA


 

東京公演②
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Tokyo Day 2 [BINASU set]



日程：2018年7月20日(金)
時間：開場 19:00 / 開演 19:30
会場：恵比寿 @KATA [https://kata-gallery.net/]
料金：前売3,000円(別途1ドリンク代) / 当日3,500円(別途1ドリンク代)
(Day 1にもご来場の方は500円のキャッシュバック）

LIVE：
Kate NV [BINASU set]
Aya Gloomy
emamouse

DJ：
青野賢一（BEAMS RECORDS)


主催：PLANCHA


 

新潟公演

experimental room #28
Kate NV Japan Tour 2018
Niigata



日程：2018年7月21日（土）
時間：開場 17:00 / 開演 17:30
会場：木揚場教会（新潟市中央区礎町通上一ノ町1957／TEL 025-229-1870)
料金：前売 3000円／当日3500円／県外2500円／18才以下無料

LIVE:
Kate NV [BINASU / RVNG mix set]
NYANTORA
LIVING ROOM

DJ:
IXALODS

SHOP:
OOHATA COFFEE

◯前売券メール予約ご希望の方は件名を
「7/21チケット予約」としてinfo@experimentalrooms.comまでご氏名・枚数をお送り下さい。

主催：experimental rooms
https://www.experimentalrooms.com
info@experimentalrooms.com

 


KATE NV：
ロシアはモスクワをベースに活動しているプロデューサー／DJ／演奏家／ヴォーカリスト、ケイト・シロノソヴァによるソロ・プロジェクト。元々はSonic YouthやDinosaur Jr.などに影響を受けたオルタナティヴ・ロック〜ポストパンク・バンド、Glintshakeのヴォーカルとして活動。また、同時に20世紀のクラシカルなミュージシャン達とCornelius Cardewのアイデアとアヴァンギャルドなコンポーズを再構築するMoscow Scratch Orchestraのメンバーでもある。それらと平行してソロとしてNVを始動させ、2014年にジャパニーズ・ポップスやニュージャックスウィング、90’s R&Bなどの影響を感じさせるEP『Pink Jungle』を発表し注目を集め、同年、Red Bull Music Academy Tokyoで初来日を果たす。2016年に待望のソロ・デビュー・フル・アルバム『Binasu』を2016年にGiant ClawとSeth Graham主宰の重要レーベル、Orange Milkからファースト・アルバム『BINASU』をリリース。各所で絶賛され、世界各国をライヴで飛び回る。その才能はエクスペリメンタル・ミュージック・シーンの最先鋭レーベルであるブリルックリンのRVNG Intl.の目にとまり、契約を果たし、同レーベルからセカンド・アルバム『для FOR』のリリースが決定した。

Soundcloud
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
YouTube




Artist: Kate NV
Title: для FOR
Cat#: ARTPL-104
Format: CD / Digital

※解説：館脇悠介
※日本のみでCD化
※ボーナス・トラック：食品まつり a.k.a foodman Remix収録

Release Date: 2018.06.15 ※日本先行発売
Price(CD): 2,000 yen + 税

ロシアはモスクワをベースに活動する才女Kate Shilonosova（ケイト・シロノソヴァ）によるソロ・プロジェクトが名義をNVからKate NVに変更し、エクスペリメンタル・ミュージック・シーンの最先鋭レーベルであるブリルックリンのRVNG Intl.に移籍しての新作『для FOR』を完成。

more info

 


Artist: NV
Title: Binasu
Cat#: ARTPL-081
Format: CD
解説: Dirty Dirt
※歌詞・対訳付き
※日本のみでCD化
※ボーナス・トラック2曲収録

Release Date: 2016.11.02 ※タワーレコード先行(10/19)発売
Price(CD): 1,900 yen + 税

ロシア発！ポストGrimes的シンセポップ超新星NVが遂に日本デビュー！
ボーナス・トラックにDeradoorianとの共演曲「Konicchiwaa (ft. Deradoorian)」収録！

more info

 

大阪公演出演者

 


テンテンコ：

1990年8月27日生まれ。北海道出身。身長142cm。 2013年BiSに加入し、2014年の解散とともにフリーランスとして活動を始める。 2016年にTOY’S FACTORY / MIYA TERRACEとマネージメント契約。 「90年代からの日本の”インディー霊”を全て背負っているといっても過言ではない、ヴァリエーションに富んだアヴァンギャルド表現者」と人は彼女を評し、オーバーグランドとアンダーグランドを自由に行き来し、朝から真夜中まで型にはまらない聖域なき活動を行っている。

WEB : https://tentenko.com
Twitter : https://twitter.com/tentenko_ooo?lang=ja
Blog : https://tentenko142.blogspot.com

 


CVN：

Grey Matter Archives主宰

Orange Milk, Where To Now?, Angoisse, CNDMM, Solitude Solutionsなどから作品をリリース

https://greymatterarchives.club/
Soundcloud : https://soundcloud.com/cvntrack

 


BIOMAN：

奈良県出身、大阪市在住。DJ、デザイナー、イラストレーター。音楽関係を中心にデザイン及びアートワークを多数手掛ける。DJではアートプログラムからクラブイベントまで幅広い分野に出演。DJ集団、風工房’98の一員でもある。所属する“青春ビザールディスコバンド”neco眠るではシンセサイザーを担当、2014年に発売された2ndアルバム『BOY』ではメインコンポーザー及びジャケットデザイン・ディレクションを務める。2015年にはイラストレーターの沖真秀との二人展「赤ちあん」を開催。

BIOMAN info : https://bio-man.net
Soundcloud : https://soundcloud.com/bio_man
Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/bio.man.37

 


souj：

dark jinja主宰

Soundcloud : https://soundcloud.com/user-656605415

 


miharu：

京都市在住20歳。幼少期より音楽に親しむ。高校生の時に作った和モノセレクト集「和モノ high school mellow」や「日本メロウ大学」がネットレーベルAno(t)raksより配信。現在は「Light Mellow West」「木菟燈籠」「City」等に出演し、関西を中心に活動している。

Twitter : https://twitter.com/rinpa1120 

 

東京公演①出演者

 


dip in the pool:

1983年に作/編曲を担当する木村達司（track）と、作詞担当の甲田益也子（vo）が結成したデュオ。独特の音楽センスとファッショナブルなヴィジュアルが話題を呼び、86年にイギリスはROUGH TRADEよりデビュー。国内では86年MOON RECORD（現在はワーナーミュージック内のレーベル）よりデビューアルバムをリリース。過去にレコーディング参加したミュージシャンは、佐久間正英、清水靖晃,、窪田晴男、富家哲、トニー・レヴィン、ミノ・シネル、モーガン・フィッシャー、ピーター・シェラー（アンビシャス・ラバーズ）、といった個性豊かな実力者ばかりであった。
マイペースな活動と並行して、甲田益也子が89年に映画『ファンシイダンス』で役者としてもデビューし、映画『白痴』では主演をつとめた。木村達司は他アーティストのプローデュース、アレンジやCM、映画音楽制作等、個々の活動も多彩に展開している。
一時期の活動休止を経て2011年に本格的に再始動、14年ぶりになるアルバム「brown eyes」をリリース。
2013年には木村達司がモーガン・フィッシャー、安田寿之と共にアンビエント・エレクトロニカ・アルバム「Portmanteau」をリリース。甲田益也子がゲストボーカルとして4曲参加している。
2015年1月に伊藤ゴロー、古川初穂らをゲストに迎えた10枚目のアルバム『HIGHWIRE WALKER』をリリース。
2016年にアムステルダムに本拠を置き世界中に多くのファンを擁する復刻レコード専門レーベルMusic From Memoryから89年に発表した「On Retinae」が12 inch・シングルとしてリイシューされ世界的に再評価される。
2017年にはアメリカのアンビエント・デュオVisible Cloaksからの依頼を受けシングルを共作リリースし、来日イベントでは共演も果たしている。
2018年６月には初のオーストラリア・ツアーを行う。

https://dipinthepool.com

 
photo by Tatsuya Hirota
角銅真実：

音楽家 打楽器奏者
マリンバをはじめとする色々な打楽器、自身の声、身の回りの気になるあらゆるものを用いて、インスタレーションやアートプロジェクトでの制作、ダンスや映像作品、CMへの楽曲提供、制作など作家としての自由な表現活動を国内外で展開中。
2017年Basic functionより初のソロアルバム”時間の上に夢が飛んでいる”を発表。ドラマーの石若駿のEP”Song book1,2”ともに歌詞と歌唱で参加。
また、2016年よりバンドceroのパーカッション・コーラスでのライブサポートやアルバム制作に関わるほか、
2018年ポーランド ワルシャワ のKrolikarnia 美術館で展示されたインスタレーション形式の映画、Square/Karolina Bregla の音楽を担当した。

https://manamikakudo.wordpress.com/
https://twitter.com/kakudouma

 


Shhhhh  (El Folclore Paradox)：

DJ/東京出身。オリジナルなワールドミュージック/伝統伝承の発掘活動。フロアでは民族音楽から最新の電子音楽全般を操るフリースタイル・グルーヴを発明。
13年に発表したオフィシャルミックスCD、『EL FOLCLORE PARADOX』のコンセプトを発展させた同名レーベルを2017年から始動し、南米からNicola Cruz、DJ Spaniolらを招聘。ブラジルのパーティ/アートコレクティブ集団、VoodoohopのコンピレーションLP『Voodoohop Entropia 1.5』のプロデュースなど。
dublab.jpのレギュラーや、オトナとコドモのニュー・サマー・キャンプ”NU VILLAGE”のオーガナイズチーム。
ライナーノーツ、ディスクレビューなど執筆活動やジャンルを跨いだ海外アーティストとの共演や招聘活動のサポート。
全国各地のカルト野外パーティー/奇祭からフェス。はたまた町の酒場で幅広く活動中。

https://soundcloud.com/shhhhhsunhouse
https://twitter.com/shhhhhsunhouse
https://www.facebook.com/kanekosunhouse

 

東京公演②出演者

 


Aya Gloomy：

Aya Gloomy（アヤ・グルーミー）1994年生まれ、 東京都出身。 高校生の頃から曲を作り始め、 作詞作曲アートワーク全て自身で行っている。

2017年2月、 初のデビューEP『Ennui Ground』を原宿のレコード・レーベル BIG LOVE Records の新レーベル「STBO Records」からリリースした。

2018年4月25日にファースト・アルバム『陸の孤島/RIKU NO KOTŌ』を発売。

https://twitter.com/aya_gloomy
https://soundcloud.com/ayagloomy

 


emamouse：

現代アート的電波アイドル風ハードコア調シンガー・トラックメイカー。
現実逃避で没入したゲームの世界（仮想空間）を、仮装することで現実世界とアイデンティファイしている。
つまり皮膚という設定のマスクを被って2015年よりLIVE活動を開始。自身をモチーフとしたイラストレーションや、実際には無いゲームのサウンドトラックを制作。
Psalmus Diuersae、Visual Disturbances、Gauss PDF等のレーベルから音源をリリース。
2018年、NZのトラックメイカーyeongrakの曲をRemixしたアルバムをQuantum Nativesからリリース。同作にてTiny Mix TapesのEUREKAを獲得。

https://emamouse.bandcamp.com/
https://twitter.com/emamouse

 


青野賢一（BEAMS RECORDS)：

個人のソフト力を主に社外のクライアント・ワークに生かす「ビームス創造研究所」に所属するクリエイティブディレクター。音楽部門〈ビームス レコーズ〉のディレクターも務める。また、ファッション、音楽、映画、美術、食といった文化全般を横断的に論ずる文筆家としても活躍。『CREA』（文藝春秋）、『ミセス』（文化出版局）などに連載を持つ。DJとしては1987年より活動開始。現在のクラブでのレギュラーイベントは山崎真央、ANGELYUKA（水原佑果）、最高の夏と行っている「SUNDAY DISCO SESSION 日曜日が待ち遠しい！」（青山zero）。

https://twitter.com/kenichi_aono

 
 
 

新潟出演者

 


Nyantora：

ナカコーのアンビエント・プロジェクト「Nyantora」。ナカコーの中で最長キャリアのプロジェクト。2001年、「９９－００」（2001年5月9日）をリリース。その後、「COSMOS」（2003年4月2日）、「夜を忘れなさい/97-03」（2006年1月27日）、「この作品はフェードインフェードアウトで構成されています 音があらわれては消えるその繰り返しただそれだけ」 （2009年12月1日）、「White EP」（2011年5月18日）、「duenn feat. Nyantora」（2012年1月12日）をリリース。そして、完全受注版「High Strangeness」（2013年10月30日）をリリースした。コンスタントにリリースをしていたものの、特にライブ活動はなかった。しかし、2014年6月にプライベートでも親交のあるduenn氏のイベントより、待望のライブ活動をスタートさせた。長きにわたり多種多様な音楽を作リ出すナカコーの、音響に精通した世界観が遂に体感できるようになった。FUJI ROCK、RISING SUN ROCK FESTIVAL、OTO TO TABIなどのフェスや、トリエンナーレ、更にはロック・アーティストとの対バンまで幅広く出演している。また、Nyantora+duennのライブ音源が日本人としては、前人未到のベルギーのエクスペリメンタル・レーベル『Entr’acte』からリリースされるなど、海外でも評価がひろがり始めている。そして2018年6月20日Nyantoraとしては、7年振りとなる全国流通版のCD「マイオリルヒト」を発売する。

KOJI NAKAMURA
KOJI NAKAMURA soundcloud
MELTINTO (JP label)
SLOWDOWN (JP label)
ENTR’ACTE (BE label)
DUENN (JP label)
NOON (JP label)
SUPAERCAR
LAMA

 


Living Room：

Tatsuya Saitoによるソロプロジェクト。主に現行のエレクトロニックミュージックに影響を受け、2015年より活動。ジャパンレーベル「Solitude Solutions」のコンピレーションアルバムに参加。DJとしても活動。

LIVING ROOM soundcloud
SOLITUDE SOLUTIONS (JP label)

 


Ixalods：

国内外の先鋭的なアーティストを招聘し、アート・エキシビションやクラブ・イベントなどを行うイベント・プロジェクト、red race riot!を主宰し、またDJとしても活動するjacob（ヤコブ）と、電子音響＋映像ユニットのmikkyozとしての展示やパフォーマンス、またソロとしてもライヴやDJを行うle（レ）のふたりによるDJユニット。

RED RACE RIOT!
MIKKYOZ

Interview with JACOB
Interview with MIKKYOZ

　僕が初めてYves（イヴ）の音を聴いた作品は、Sandwell Districtが2011年にリリースした『Counting Triggers』でした。抑えた曲調ながら強靭な音、PAN SONICをよりフリーキーにしたような楽曲構成。かなりオリジナルな作風で、面白い人が出て来たなと思いました。2012年にはPeter Van HoesenとのユニットSendai名義でPeterのレーベル〈Time To Express〉から『Geotope』を発表。２人の個人名義よりも実験的な作風の曲が多く、DJではかなり使いにくい曲が多いのですが、さらにYvesへの関心は高まりました。2013年には〈Archives Intérieures〉、〈Opal Tapes〉、〈Modal Analysis〉などのレーベルからYves De Mey（イヴ・ド・メイ）名義で作品をリリース。この辺りからBPM110台で、強靭なサウンドがじわじわとビルドアップして行くという楽曲構成が個人名義での基本的スタイルとして確立されたように思います。2014年の〈Semantica〉からのリリースでも独自のスタイルを貫いています。その一方でAnDが運営する〈Inner Surface Music〉から新たな名義Grey Branchesを用いてBPMも早目の曲が多いテクノに寄った楽曲群を発表。この名義では2017年に12"x2もリリース。非常にアグレッシヴなテクノ・トラックが多数収録されています。多才な彼は〈Spectrum Spools〉や〈Editions Mego〉（Sendai名義）からも作品をリリース。数々のレーベルを渡り歩いて来た彼の最新作が〈Latency〉からリリースされました。

　〈Latency〉としてはMura Oka『Auftakt』（LTNC004）以来の12"x2となる大作ですが、全編に渡って非常に張り詰めた緊張感が漲っています。一貫して漂う不穏なムード、巧みに抑制された曲調と音数、抑揚に合わせてコントロールされる音量、予測しづらい音やリズムの配置、常に変化を続ける楽曲構成などからその緊張感が生まれ、この作品を貫いています。

　静かにはじまり、繰り返されるメロディのシークエンス、そのメロディを支えるように地を這う低音パート、間欠的に打ち鳴らされるバスドラム、時折挿入される女性の声、やがてバスドラムと女性の声と主旋律がクレッシェンドしていき、音が揺らぎながらピークを迎える“Gruen”は〈Latency〉らしいアンビエント・テイストを孕んでいて、この曲をオープニングに選ぶあたりも憎い。

　“Mika”というタイトルが故人となってしまったMika Vainioのことを指すのかはわかりませんが、Mikaを想わせる重く強靭なキックドラムがBPM110で打ち込まれる上を、不規則に跳ね回る音が時折重力に逆らって飛翔を試みるものの失敗を繰り返している、そんなイメージが浮かびます。

　この作品のハイライトととも言えるであろうタイトル曲“Bleak Comfort”。シンコペーションするリズムで幕を開け、そこにサステインするキックドラムが加わることで一気にグルーヴ感が出てボトムを支え、妙な電子音が4拍目に絡み付き、シンバルのような音が2拍4拍にスネアのように入ってきて、数小節の後一旦ブレーク、そこから細かく刻まれた電子音の連打がクレッシェンドを繰り返しはじめて熱量は上がり、その下部にディストーションのかかったベースラインが入ってきてさらにグルーヴを高め、全てが暴発しそうな勢いを秘めたままカタルシスに至る一歩手前で音は収束していき、最後を締めくくるのは細く刻まれた電子音の孤独なクレッシェンド。この作品のなかでもっともDJ映えする曲だと思います。

　ゆったりとしたメロディではじまり、アンビエントな曲になるかと思いきや、少し不釣り合いな感じがするリズムが入ってきて、やがて金属的な音が加わり、暴力的なまでに高まったかと思うとそのまま何ごともなかったように収束していく、主旋律と他のパートの対比が奇妙な“17 Graves”に続いてもうひとつのハイライトと言えそうな“Stale”がはじまります。BPM116のビートの上をゆらゆらと電子音が漂い、モジュラーシンセの柔軟な音が蠢くなか、主旋律の上昇音階が繰り返され徐々に熱量が増していく。どこまでもヒートアップして行きそうな音の足し算から一転して、次の“Wearing Off”はとても抑制された音数であるがゆえの高い緊張感が漲っていて、ひとつひとつの音の存在感が凄い。この曲も大きな音で聴くとかなりかっこいいと思います。今にも爆発しそうな熱を内に孕んでギリギリのところで持ちこたえているような、そんな曲です。

　最後を締めくくるのはモジュラーシンセ・インプロヴィゼーションのような、そこはかとなく美しさを感じさせる“Contrary Unto Them”。

　アーティストJean-Marie Appriouのアルミニウムによる造形にアクリルペイントと金箔を施した作品“Raspberries 3”を用いたジャケットも美しい。

　この作品のイメージを色に例えるなら暖色系ではなく明らかに寒色系で、寒々とした荒野にひとり取り残されたものの、どこか居心地が良くて立ち去りがたいような、そんなイメージが湧きます。「荒涼とした心地良さ」というタイトルが言い得て妙な、強い中毒性を持った傑作。

Laetitia Sadier Source Ensemble Find Me Finding You Drag City Amazon

　Initially emerging as a curiously conceptial bubblegum pop tangent from the shoegaze scene, Stereolab throughout their career embodied a series of tensions – between accessible and experimental, complex and grindingly simple, personal and political. Their music was never purely bubblegum: it had to be John Cage Bubblegum, it was never purely avant-garde: it had to be Avant-Garde AOR.
Stereolab’s roots lie in guitarist/main songwriter Tim Gane and lead vocalist/lyricist Laetitia Sadier’s time with jangly indiepop band McCarthy, with whom Stereolab shared similary explicit leftwing politics.
However, where McCarthy’s lyrics were typically sarcastic dissections of the absurdities of contemporary political life, Stereolab’s politics tended to be more reflective and even romantic, revelling in their own uncertainty, feeling out the relationship between self and society with less confidence and more innocent curiosity.
Their early records were infused with a gushing enthusiasm for the motorik rhythms of Neu!, which they then filled out with organ drones, and it’s probably fair to say that, along with Julian Cope, Stereolab were in large part responsible for the UK music scene’s rediscovery of Krautrock in the 1990s. However, from around 1994’s Mars Audiac Quintet, and more explicitly on 1996’s Emperor Tomato Ketchup, the band’s sonic palette broadened considerably, incorporating influences from ‘60s film soundtracks, French pop, jazz and a more sophisticated use of electronic elements.
Through all these mutations, the group’s unique and instantly recognisable sonic identity was Laetitia Sadier’s vocals, which simultaneously embodied a cool detachment and an unaffected romanticism. Sadier’s vocal foil for much of the ’90s was keyboard player Mary Hansen, and the interplay between the two singers helped to define the group up until Hanson's death in a road accident in 2002. Their combination of deadpan delivery and breezy “ba-ba-ba”s reflected a broader dynamic within the band’s music between pop’s desire to give you everything all at once and an avant-garde wariness of making things too easy.
From the start, Stereolab infuriated the UK music press with cryptic song titles and obscure puns alongside what seemed like a contrarian insistence that what they were doing was pop. And it was pop in the sense that, at its heart, Stereolab’s music was generally simple and melodic, drawing on familiar chords and rhythms – the song Transona Five was built around the instantly recognisable beat of Canned Heat’s On The Road Again, for example.
It also reflected a punkish rejection of the grownup world and a love of childish thrills. It’s there explicitly in song titles like We’re Not Adult Orientated, but also in the dadaist delight in nonsense that led to them describing the tracks on Transient Random-Noise Bursts With Announcements with gnomic nuggets of hi-fi wisdom like “subjective white noise” and sci-fi surrealism like “underwater aztec”.
In some ways, Stereolab were like a precociously smart teenager experiencing first love: so keen for you to like them, but always holding something back; complicating every simple expression of their feelings, but also underscoring every attempt to be cool and aloof with something disarmingly honest.
In the end though, perhaps the band themselves were always their own best reviewers, so it may be best to leave the last words to them:
“Constantly evolving, curious / Sombre, obscure, dark and luminous / Vitriolic, stringent, prophetic.”

Yeah, and I think that’s the beauty of pop: that it is this simple, conservative structure that lends itself perfectly to being disturbed and disrupted.

IAN:
Since this issue of the magazine is focused on avant-pop, I’m interested in how you feel about that term. With me, I find that I use it a lot without ever really thinking about what it means. It’s certainly a term that has often been used to describe Stereolab, but was it a term you ever felt comfortable with?

LAETITIA:
Well, as you know, artists don’t like to be pigeonholed in any way, so no term would suit. But if I were to choose one, this would actually be quite legitimate, because there were strong pop references in our music, and it was our structure for a lot of what we were doing. And there was an immense liberty between a verse and a chorus, where Tim might want to try out some ideas, so there would be these “avant” ideas perhaps between parts four and seven of track three on the album. That’s how I understand the “avant” in “avant-pop” – it’s taking liberties and being free to explore inbetween a rather simple structure, without our music being “avant-garde” strictly speaking.

IAN:
It also seems to me that the term “avant-pop” embodies a contradiction. There’s something fundamentally conservative about pop, in that it’s music that wants you to feel comfortable in how you already are, whereas the avant-garde is about taking you out of your comfort zone.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and I think that’s the beauty of pop: that it is this simple, conservative structure that lends itself perfectly to being disturbed and disrupted. I think The Beach Boys were masters of hiding an incredible amount of complexity and even darkness beneath something that on the surface is so shiny and friendly – when inside it’s just plain weird! So in that regard pop can be very subversive and can be a danger to society! (Laughs)

IAN:
You mention about the the importance of simplicity, and I remember reading something that Tim said about how a lot of the simplicity and minimalism of early Stereolab was dictated to a large degree by your own limitations as musicians.

LAETITIA:
Yeah. Indeed, you have what you have, and you have to work with that. In a sense it’s more liberating to accept the physical limitations. It’s much more hindering to have too many possibilities and have to narrow it down rather than have a much more narrow terrain to work with and think, “How do we exploit this bit of land here and how do we extract the gems?” There was a fair amount of limitations because we were not schooled musicians. But the aim wasn’t to be virtuosos, and I guess that’s also part of the pop thing. You don’t have to be a virtuoso: you just explore your capabilities within the context of being a normal human being, not some supreme creature touched by the hand of God! It was more punk: do the best with what you’ve got.

IAN:
Within punk, there seemed to be a lot of affection – sometimes a little ironic and sometimes more sincere – for the bubblegum extremes of pop music. The Sex Pistols covering The Monkees etc., despite them not seeming ideologically compatible on the face of it.

LAETITIA:
But they were! I don’t know if I can make the class system step in, but I will! It was about the working classes taking power, exercising their self-determination, so that’s very important and very dangerous. You know, The Who and The Kinks were probably seen with an air of suspicion by the authorities because they had an incredible amount of sway with the youth. They were a bit threatening, and of course so were the punks. And the punks made a point of saying, “I didn’t go to school for this, and I’m going to make it as simple and direct as I can to show that anybody can do this!”

That’s what I find so appealing in that sort of pop, is that it was very political. Not political with a big “P” but it was about people taking matters into their own hands through their art. That’s how I educated myself politically: it was through music, not through reading Karl Marx.

IAN:
Yeah. When Stereolab started, one of their most audible influences was Krautrock, which was a music with its own kind of simplicity. But Krautrock also embodied this thing that wasn’t only a class thing but also this attempt to get away from the Anglo-American hegemony over rock music.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and again there was a big element of self-determination and saying “Fuck you!” to the man. That’s what I find so appealing in that sort of pop, is that it was very political. Not political with a big “P” but it was about people taking matters into their own hands through their art. That’s how I educated myself politically: it was through music, not through reading Karl Marx – because it’s hard to read Karl Marx! And far less immediate than listening to a pop album.

IAN:
Of course, as your career progressed, you all became better musicians and so some of those limitations fell away. How did you keep in touch with that simplicity?

LAETITIA:
The watershed point would be “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”. That’s where it shifted to something more overtly complex. I didn’t write the music, so it’s difficult for me to answer this clearly, but as far as I know, each album stemmed from an idea, and it would imply some kind of restriction. One album was written entirely where none of the notes from the melodies appeared in the chord that was sustaining the melody – which I think is great. It brings about more tension. It wasn’t dissonant, but I think “tension” is the word that springs to mind, and that for me makes it an interesting song. Another example was “Margarine Eclipse”, which was essentially three albums, because we had one on the left speaker, one album on the right speaker, and then you had the sum of the two, which created the third album, so that was another sort of conceptual idea. There were often little tricks like that, which sustained entire albums.

IAN:
You’ve mentioned the idea of “tension”, and your work often has a kind of tension between music that on the face of it seems cheerful, happy, pleasant, and lyrical content that’s quite dark or angry. I’m thinking particularly of “Ping Pong” off “Mars Audiac Quintet”, where the lyrics about the cycles of economic downturn and war seem ever more relevant with the way the world seems to be heading now.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, absolutely. It’s difficult for me to say why I write certain things, but I know what you mean, especially with Stereolab, there was more darkness than originally suspected from a first glance. We were very serious about what we did. It was our way of making sense of our lives and of being autonomous. And of course I’ve always been very very sensitive to the way the world is going, and in fact since I was born it’s just getting worse. I always felt that we could organise ourselves a bit better, and I don’t mean a utopian society where everybody’s cool and the sun shines every morning – I just mean, “Hold on a minute: we can do this a little bit better so that it works out for more of us who are living on this planet.” And yet it seems that, “Oh, my God, we can’t!” The pathology has only gotten worse and deeper, at least on the surface. Because there’s a lot of good things as well that are happening, and people are getting organised in more silent ways – silent in the sense that you might not hear about it. People are going, “You can’t expect anything from governments: we’re going to have to do it ourselves!” and that I view as a good development: people taking matters into their own hands on a local level.

IAN:
Do you think there’s a parallel between what you’re describing there and the music scene? Something about the idea of organising independently of power structures?

LAETITIA:
I don’t know, because in my own experience, in my band, there were a lot of power structures actually. It wasn’t a democracy, in the sense that Tim monopolised the entire musical field and operated as a kind of “soft tyrant”. I mean, I had all the freedom lyrically speaking, but only because he couldn’t do it! (Laughs) So I don’t have an idealised view of being in the band. I’ve never been in a band where everyone wrote together. Even in my own band, I write almost everything. Sometimes on certain songs I give my bassist Xavi (Munoz) the chords and he writes a bass line, and then I have to write a melody on top of that, and it’s like, “Shit! He took all the melodic feel!” but it’s great because you have to dig deeper. So this thing about relinquishing control is probably difficult if you have a very strong artistic expectation, which I think Tim had. But also as a result I think our music was very reined in. It might seem crazy, but I’ve been listening to Stereolab’s old records recently, and they’re very repressed. But it’s really hard to let go and to let things flow, and I think that’s the reserve of some really, really great musicians where the’re totally on top of their instrument and go beyond.

IAN:
Do you think that having your creativity channeled narrowly into your lyrics and vocals influenced the way you make your own music?

LAETITIA:
Yeah, yeah, of course! And also what it forced me to do was start my own band, which was Monade, and I think Tim was very relieved! (Laughs) And, yeah, so that was a creative way around this issue, because I wanted to write my own songs, I had my own ideas, which are actually very similar to Stereolab, so I think I could have co-written much more with Tim. I’ve done seven albums now, and to my dismay I’m like, “This is still very influenced by Stereolab!” It’s really strange how each time I try to let go of that, I’m always face-to-face with that root, which I created. And I listen to what Tim is doing, and it’s still also... there’s no escaping it! It’s absolutely crazy! I don’t know, I could maybe write some reggae stuff to break it, but then it wouldn’t be me!

IAN:
But also one of the most powerful things music can do is that it creates a world. People fall in love with bands because they create worlds that they’re able to immerse themselves in and feel comfortable with. I wonder if the difficulty you describe in escaping Stereolab is a measure of how immersive the world you created was.

LAETITIA:
I don’t know. I find myself quite good at getting out of my comfort zone, at least when I compare myself to people I know. So I don’t know if what I’m looking for is something comfortable that I recognise, that I identify as safe. And particularly in the artistic field, where I feel that’s where you should be most free, and most adventurous. There’s no danger of hurting anyone because, as you say, it’s a world we create.

Yeah, and also coming from psychoanalysts themselves. It was always around “the problem came from your parents,” never from society.

IAN:
That comes back in a way to the “avant” side of avant-pop, right? The need to step out of your comfort zone, and also to take the listener out of their comfort zone.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, this is the duty! But maybe that’s where one can act and maybe not have that pretension of taking anyone out of their comfort zone, and simply do what comes best, and not be too complicated. I worked with Colin Newman recently, and his wife Malka Spigel who was in (Belgian postpunk band) Minimal Compact. I didn’t know that they worked with a looper where things had to be four and four and four and four, and so I was sending something which I found quite interesting and fun and not too complicated, and they totally rejected it! What they did was they took parts of the song and then they looped it. And it worked fine, but I realised that, compared to what they were sending me, it just gave me a glimpse of how complex I make things and how I could simplify it a lot. I’m not saying it’s good or bad; it’s just an insight.

IAN:
A friend of mine once remarked to me that he thinks Stereolab must be the band whose lyrics contain the word “society” more than any other. And I was thinking how this idea of looking at the structure of the world in many ways goes against the rather individualistic world of pop or rock music.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, there’s a dichotomy between a world of egos and society. And I wanted Stereolab’s lyrical work to bridge the very intimate and personal and society; where does political start and where does it end? Because the way I saw it was let’s be as complete as we can, and for me being complete is talking about things that matter to me. Some people view pop music as a means to escape reality, so if you talk about mindless things, or if you “settle the accounts” with somebody, or express the world of feelings around a relationship. I do explore emotional stuff as well – that wasn’t excluded. It just seemed to me that let’s talk about important stuff, because there’s enough of it going on out there that we can discuss or at least question, because a lot of what I talked about in my lyrics were just questions for myself. Even the capitalist, the individualist, all this is stuff I could feel within myself. It was like, “No, I can be that monster too, and I’d like to interrogate that.”

IAN:
It seems that we’re often being encouraged by society to think very internally and to not really interrogate the relationship between ourselves and the outside world. In the song “The Well-Fed Point of View” by yours and Tim’s old band McCarthy, the lyrics tackle this quite directly.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and also coming from psychoanalysts themselves. It was always around “the problem came from your parents,” never from society. And in fact, I got very interested in a guy called Cornelius Castoriadis. He wasn’t just a psychoanalyst, he was many things, but he was married to a very famous psychoanalyst (Piera Aulagnier) in the ‘60s, ‘70s, ‘80s in Paris, and they both were some of the first in the field to interrogate the impact of society on the human psyche. But it’s amazing to see that they were rare ones. Like, as if society did not impact your psyche, your unconscious, which I find extremely dubious! Of course it’s going to have an impact: everything has an impact on us: the architecture, the way the streets are laid out. It’s like if doctors are saying whatever you eat doesn’t impact your health: how can you say that?

IAN:
You mention architecture, but that’s true of music as well, right? The aesthetics, or the “internal architecture” of music also has an impact that goes beyond the lyrics.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, I think so. And the production of the song will say a lot. It’s a language.

IAN:
There seems to be an ease pop culture in Japan has in disconnecting the aesthetics from the content. But at the same time, maybe that’s impossible because the aesthetics have an impact of their own that is connected to the content.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, and I think there was enough happening aesthetically in our work that people would suspect that it had a revolutionary intent: that this wasn’t your regular pop group. And I think in Japan people were very savvy as well when it came to music. People knew their stuff! Not to mention that we called one of our albums “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”, which was named after a super-revolutionary Japanese movie.

IAN:
By Shuji Terayama, yeah.

LAETITIA:
I haven’t seen it! I haven’t read Marx and I haven’t seen “Emperor Tomato Ketchup”! (Laughs) Don’t tell them!

IAN:
It’s too late. It’s on tape! With the many collaborations you’ve been involved in, do you think that enriches your music?

LAETITIA:
Definitely. Like I said, it gets you out of your comfort zone, and it forces you to a sort of activity to be productive, because anything could make you go out of productivity: feeling a bit depressed or this or that or the other. It’s good to be kept in action. And stuff comes out that wouldn’t normally come out, so it’s very instrumental in keeping the creativity bubbling and active.

IAN:
Are there any particular projects that you’ve worked on with other people that stand out as being especially rewarding experiences for you?

LAETITIA:
When I worked with Jan and Andi (Mouse on Mars). It was so brilliant. We had a tour of Greece and Italy booked up and we had to come up with an hour’s worth of music, and it was the first time I was working like this outside of Stereolab. It was really difficult for me because I wasn’t confident that I could do this. I then learned that if I’m asked to do it, that means that I can do it! So that became my sort of motto. And yeah, somehow we did it and we had such a fun tour – it was such an adventure! But working with people, each time it’s a different adventure. I’m currently working with a Brazilian band called Mombojó, and we created a group together called Modern Cosmology – we made a video called “C’est le Vent”, “It’s the Wind”, which gives an idea of our collaboration. I can only see the positives of working with other people and “crossbreeding” (laughs) your creativity.

IAN:
So you made three albums with Monade, then three just under your own name, and then more recently one as Laetitia Sadier Source Ensemble. It seems like there’s a period there where your identity is subsumed within this idea of a band, then three albums where you push your own individual identity to the foreground, and then finally this third stage where you’re trying to reconcile the collective and the individual. Would you say there’s something like that going on in the process?

LAETITIA:
Yeah, thank you for summing it up so beautifully! Yeah, it’s true that there’s time where you’re in the playground and you’re working out who the hell you are like, “This is me.” And then there are some times where you open it up and it’s like, “This is me in the world, this is me and my friends, and this is collective me.” And even when I was in my “this is me” period, Laetitia Sadier, I was still well aware that nothing that I do is just the product of solely me: it’s the product of many people’s involvement. And it seemed to me that it was an important point to make when I “Source Ensembled” Laetitia Sadier, because we’re told that “This is just you, and you and you and you alone!” and that’s wrong: that’s a lie. We are all connected here.

IAN:
Jumping back to Stereolab, I think it’s interesting that the band is in many ways a product of the 1990s and the age of CDs. For example, most Stereolab albums are far too long to fit onto a single piece of vinyl. But at the same time, they’re also albums that seem designed to be appreciated on vinyl.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, like any music that respects itself! (Laughs) It’s true. I have a turntable in my kitchen and a CD player, and I’m not attached to the object at all, and I would prefer to listen to CDs because you don’t need to worry about turning it over. But now I realise there’s something different about vinyl. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just more music-friendly.

IAN:
I think the way it forces you to constantly attend to it by turning it over every fifteen minutes encourages a different, more attentive sort of listening.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, it’s funny how this kind of alienation in fact gives you more connection with the record.

IAN:
Perhaps it goes back to the idea of tension again. In this case, rather than tension within the music, it’s tension between the listener and the medium itself that engages the listener. The other extreme would be Spotify or something, where you just put on a playlist while you’re cooking.

LAETITIA:
Yeah, you just consume it. I don’t have Spotify, but my son’s got it and it’s amazing though. Just say a band and there you have it. I think I’m going to have to get it, especially because I’m going to be on Spotify as of this month (April 2018). The Drag City catalogue is on all the streaming platforms, which it wasn’t before – Drag City have given in! It’s tricky but times are changing and people just have new ways of listening to music. There’s a lot of people out there – have you seen all this youth out there! (Laughs)

IAN:
OK, I guess before we finish, I should just ask if there’s anything more you’ve got coming up that you’d like to tell us about.

LAETITIA:
Well, really the main thing at the moment is my project with those Brazilian boys, Modern Cosmology. Apart from that, I’ll make it to Japan again maybe not this year but next year, one way or another.

Jim O'Rourke sleep like it’s winter NEWHERE MUSIC Amazon

Writing about a musician like Jim O’Rourke is always a challenge. His work is rarely what it seems to be on the surface, its mechanisms carefully concealed so that how it works on you as a listener is the result of an almost invisible creative process. A huge amount of complexity and musical intelligence underscores music that feels completely natural and even obvious, as if it’s always existed. If his creative approach includes a strong element of academic discipline, his finished music nonetheless has a lot of heart.
On O’Rourke’s previous relatively high-profile release, his unexpected 2015 return to something like rock songwriting with Simple Songs, instantly familiar-sounding rock hooks would merge imperceptably into completely unexpected musical territory without you ever noticing how you’d travelled. His latest album, Sleep Like It’s Winter, released from the new, ambient-focused NEWHERE label, sees him in a radically a different sonic landscape again, with an icy, uneasy, breathtakingly beautiful 45-minute instrumental track.
Between Simple Songs and Sleep Like It’s Winter lie twenty-two separate releases in O’Rourke’s Steamroom series, which he puts out at a rate of about one every couple of months from his Bandcamp page. While some of these releases are old tracks deemed worthy of exhuming from his archives, this rapid flow of releases may also include something for those of us hoping to find clues as to his working. Certainly some of the Steamroom releases that most immediately preceded Sleep Like It’s Winter share similarities.
None of them are quite as richly layered and textured though, and while ambient music is almost by definition music that defies analysis, working primarily on the fringes of consciousness, Sleep Like It’s Winter at the same time feels like a very conscious album, full of ideas and revealing something new on every listen.

I mean, most people would say Eno. Actually it would go back to Michael Nyman’s book Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond. It’s a great, important book that I read when I was in high school.

I：
I always find it a bit difficult to talk about music that often gets described as ambient or drone…

J：
Right, well, the fact that they even asked me to make an ambient record for them, that’s why I decided to take the challenge. I didn’t set out to make an ambient record but it’s sort of about making an ambient record more than it’s an ambient record (laughing) you know? Pretty much everything I do is about what it is as opposed to being it.

I：
You’ve said before something along the lines of that you approach making music in a way kind of like a critic.

J：
Yeah, I don’t make music ‘cause I enjoy it. (Laughs) Yeah, I have said something like that. I’m not comparing myself to him but when I was young I read this quote from Godard where he said, “The best way to critique a film is to make another film,” and that stuck with me since I luckily read that as a young boy. That’s fundamental to how I work.

I：
How long did this new album take?

J：
That took about two years.

I：
Were you still living in Tokyo when you started work on it?

J：
I was still in Tokyo, yes, when they first asked me. But there was also a lot of extraneous work around that time also because I was moving. So the first six months of working on it was probably more thinking than actually putting anything down. Just thinking about what the hell that term “ambient” meant, and it means different things to different generations. At the beginning, when they asked me, it was like “We’re starting an ambient label,” and I was like, “Okay…” (laughs) Just making any record in terms of “make a record in this genre” is anathema to me, but I decided to do it because it was such a revolting idea! (Laughs) Not that I dislike ambient music – I don’t mean that. That’s just not the way I think when I make things, so it was such a bizarre proposal that I decided to do it.

I：
For ambient music what is your first natural frame of reference?

J：
I mean, most people would say Eno. Actually it would go back to Michael Nyman’s book Experimental Music: Cage and Beyond. It’s a great, important book that I read when I was in high school. There’s a bit about Eno in there talking about, and (Eno) didn’t use the word “ambient” yet, he refers (Erik) Satie’s idea of “furniture music”. And it might be on the back of his Discreet Music record, which was a big deal for me when I was a kid, because on the back of the record it’s all just him talking about these ideas and there’s also diagrams of technically how he made the music. When I think of ambient music I don’t necessarily think of Eno because Eno’s actual ambient music, when he moved on, you know those “Ambient” records, I actually don’t like those very much – no disrespect to him, but it’s just not my cup of tea. In a way I like Satie’s definition of it more: that it’s “furniture music”, that it’s like BGM: it’s not something that’s meant to be listened to with the active mind, which implies that you’re not following the formal structure of what’s going on. So it’s a sort of shift of standpoint that means “ambient” to me. For me, in making this record, the most important thing was, “Where is a line where you decide to give up on formal structures completely?” and, “Where is a line where formal structures can still be perceived but they’re not being shouted at you?”

I：
Speaking of formal structures, going back to Eno, he often seems interested in the idea of taking the musician completely out of the music

J：
For me, in that way of thinking of music, which I’ve been moving towards my entire life slowly but surely (laughs), Roland Kayn was the biggest guy for me. Someone could call his music ambient but it’s way too aggressive for that. The idea of his music is you create the system and then you just let it go. The challenge is how can you create a system that still represents the ideas even though you’ve let it go. If you look at some of the last decade or so of Cage’s scores, like the number pieces, they create these systems. These later Number Pieces of his are really interesting because, if you do them correctly, they’re really constraining even though they don’t seem to be. Whereas someone like Kayn and what Brian Eno were doing, especially in the 70’s, they still want a result but they want to be hands off about it.

I：
For those of us listening to you, it’s almost like we get to hear you, well not in real time but now it almost feels like every couple of months there’s a new thing on Bandcamp

J：
Yeah, Bandcamp is one of the few things the internet has created that I really like. I do like that it’s just there for the fifty people who want it and nothing else gets attached to it. Everything that comes with releasing records, if I have nothing to do with it that’s the happiest I could possibly be. For me, you’ve got to understand, once it’s done it’s done: I’m already gone.

I：
Did your work on those releases inform your work on this new album?

J：
I think one or two might have been failed versions. (Laughs) I mean the Bandcamp stuff, honestly it’s for the 50 or 80 people out there who want to hear that stuff. It’s just being able to be, “Here, you guys want this: go ahead.” Not that I don’t put as much work into those things. For every Bandcamp work I put up, there’s like 80 failed Bandcamp things.

I：
In Sleep Like it’s Winter, there are a lot of sounds that are happening just on the edge of hearing, where it drops to near silence for a while before the sounds build back up again.

J：
Yeah, that’s true. A lot of my really early stuff in the late ’80’s, early ’90’s was a lot of that but I think, because I was young, I was still in the mode of imitating people. I was imitating silence (laughs) because there’s a lot of that, especially in (Giaconto) Scelsi’s music, which I was really really into when I was in college. And I really appreciated the amount of silence in a lot of Luc Ferrari’s work, which I was also really really into.
Also, at that time, things like the Hafler Trio, P-16 D4a, blah blah blah, but I don’t think I really understood how to use that until later in life. Because silence is just as much a part of the dynamic as something loud. In the act of actually listening to something, time means a lot and silence is also time because you perceive time differently in silence than time with sound. Hopefully, the use of silence stretches your perception of time – it’s the same thing as having a good drum fill or something.

Well, in terms of structure, the one thing that music can’t really do eloquently, like the other art forms, is deal with time backwards. Music can really only change time by making reference, and that can only be done if the music has a formal structure because you’re making structural reference or a melodic reference.

I：
So silence can be a function of the overall rhythm of the piece.

J：
Right, yes, exactly, yeah. Another thing I had to think about a lot when making this record is the idea that just because the music is “ambient” and doesn’t have percussion elements or whatever, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a rhythm. So, what role does rhythm take in this and how does it manifest itself is also something I had to think about a lot. And silence is part of that. Silence is kind of like an audio punctuation as well and it can be a comma or it can be a period. Or a semi-colon. Of course it matters what comes before and what comes after, but you really can hear the difference between a period and a comma. There’s definitely a moment of silence on this record that’s a comma and then there’s one that’s 3 periods in a row. At least that’s the way I think of it.

I：
Did you find, while making this record that there are cliches in ambient music?

J：
Oh, there definitely are. I kind of knew them before I started this because that’s mostly the reason I don’t listen to ambient music. I mean, pretty much all ambient music is major 7th chords, so harmony was going to be a big deal – how to approach harmony with this. Major 9th is also very popular: those are the two go-to harmonies in ambient music, if it isn’t just a perfect 5th. How to deal with harmony on this! I didn’t want it to just be about the overtones, because with the drone route really you’re dealing with overtones and not dealing with harmony – that was something I knew firsthand from doing it. In my memory, all the failed versions are sort of mixed up in it. Once I’ve finished the record, the only time I’ve heard it since mixing it is to check the mastering, so I kind of forget what happens in it. I learned a lot of what it wasn’t, but I don’t know if I learned what it is. I would rather find the next question than find the answer: that’s just the way I am. I mean, I don’t really believe in answers. A solution should lead to the next question.

I：
A bit like a filmmaker working in a genre, you have a choice: “Am I going to take this convention and play with it or am I going to confound this convention?”

J：
That’s a really apt comparison for me, because those kinds of filmmakers were a much bigger influence on me than music really was when I was young. I always wanted to be a filmmaker and then I found out how expensive it is and what kind of life you have to lead so that didn’t happen. Someone like Robert Aldrich or Richard Fleischer, these kinds of filmmakers were a really big deal for me because I loved watching them do all sorts of things despite being in this supposed cage of genre convention. William Friedkin is like a superhero to me: I love William Friedkin. To Live and Die in L.A., that film is amazing in what it does with genre conventions. I have a huge poster of it staring in my face right now. My way of thinking on that stuff really comes more from film than anything else. Just it really taught me a lot about approach.

I：
I wonder as well if, compared to pop music where the story is told in a very concise nugget, ambient music, where a single piece might be stretched over an entire album, works in a more cinematic rhythm.

J：
Well, in terms of structure, the one thing that music can’t really do eloquently, like the other art forms, is deal with time backwards. Music can really only change time by making reference, and that can only be done if the music has a formal structure because you’re making structural reference or a melodic reference. And that’s really only calling back, that’s not restructuring time. Kurosawa Kiyoshi, in the ‘90s, was the king of that. He deals with time in his films in the most extraordinary manner, especially Hebi no Michi (Serpent’s Path) and Kumo no Hitomi (Eyes of the Spider). The way he restructures everything you’ve seen with just an image, and your perception of time in everything you’ve seen can change from just an image. You can do that in all the visual arts, and obviously you can do that in writing, but music doesn’t have the tools to do that in such an eloquent manner. It’s really kind of clumsy. That’s something that’s always fascinated me since college, because when I was in college and studying all the Stockhausen and all that shit, that was the stuff I was really interested in. There’s this whole period of Stockhausen doing these “moment works”. I mean, the 60s and 70s was when all those guys were trying to address the problem of time in music, and the fact that they did is awesome, but it was really kinda hamfisted. It’s still a problem in music and that’s the thing I think about a lot, and film is the thing that reminds me of that constantly, more so than music does.

I：
You’ve mentioned before constantly creating roadblocks for yourself in the creation of your music.

J：
I don’t think I do that as much as I used to. When I was younger I think I needed to. I think now I sort of trip myself up naturally. I don’t even consciously do that: its just the way my brain works. I think when I was younger I had to do that. And also, when you’re younger, when you have no gear or anything, that’s a great thing, you know? Having too much gear is one of the worst things in the world. The more gear you have, the less you do. That’s a concrete restriction that you’ve got to think about, “I’m not even gonna touch any of that stuff”. There’s only three instruments on this record – no, four, sorry, if you count a short-wave radio as an instrument.

I：
Were you working with any collaborators on this record or is it all you?

J：
Yeah, it’s just me. There was one version that was going to have drums on it but it didn’t work. So there’s a hard-drive full of this stuff with drums on it that will rust away (laughs).

I：
You’re living in the countryside now. Since moving there has that impacted the way you work.

J：
I just get to work more. There’s not much distraction at all. It’s the closest to when I was in my early twenties, really. I mean, I wouldn’t sleep for days at a time: I’d really be in my room with my tape machine and just doing that non-stop. That’s not something I’d want to do now, but I can get to that frame of mind again, which is something I haven’t been able to do for a long long time.

I：
You produce a wide range of music under the name of “Jim O’Rourke”, but there’s often this sense, particularly in Japan, that “this is what this project is and this is what it sounds like”. I remember a friend of mine was playing a show and at the end the manager of the venue commented, “Yeah, that should be three different bands, what you played there”

J：
Yeah, that’s a very reductive way of thinking. I think it is more common here than anywhere else.

I：
You’ve spoken in the past that people have a hard time considering an artist’s work as a whole rather than each thing discretely.

J：
Right, I think that’s more common in music. I mean, you say “Hitchcock “ – people might mention a film or two as their favourites but they’re generally thinking “the work of Hitchcock”. But it is true in music; you would think of “the works of Morton Feldman” but that’s because that world of music does tie into that socio-political way of thinking. But in terms of popular music that really has more to do with commodity than a way of thinking, there really aren’t that many people who approach it that way. Whether you like him or not, Frank Zappa is someone who could be seen as an exception to that: people generally think of “the work of Frank Zappa”, although he was generally making records with a rock band. People think that way about someone like Bob Dylan. So there are exceptions, but in general there aren’t.

I：
Do you feel there are themes that keep coming back in your music?

J：
Oh God, yeah! (Laughs) It’s all the same thing. They’re all the same thing really. I mean, I think it’s something Picasso said or someone said it about Picasso: “You’re really just making the same painting over and over again.”

One silly example, I remember when I was younger, I would read Naked Lunch every year, and I noticed that every year I re-read it, I learned more about me than I did about the book. Because I saw more of how I had changed, in that time, than the book had changed. Because the book, of course, hadn’t changed at all: it’s always been there.

Jim O'Rourke sleep like it’s winter NEWHERE MUSIC Amazon

I： What do you think links an album like Simple Songs to and album like Sleep Like it’s Winter or maybe Kafka’s Ibiki’s Nemutte?

J：
I guess I would say it’s that I made them. (Laughs) It sounds like a joke, but in a way I think that’s really kind of the best answer. Certain aspects of what I’m trying to do come out stronger on some things more than others. But they’re kind of all there on all of them.

I：
One thing that connects them, when I listen to them, is that I hear multiple layers to the way things transition on your records.

J：
I don’t know if you’ve heard this record I did called The Visitor.

I：
Yeah, I was listening to that today, actually.

J：
I mean, that’s probably the closest I’ve ever gotten. It still has lots of problems, but that’s the closest ever to sort of doing what I wish the music would do. And that’s really all about the transitions, really – the flipping and the flopping, as Kramer would say. I don’t think in the abstract about the transitions – I don’t think “OK, now I’m going to make this kind of transition,” – it’s not an abstract idea or an exercise, but that really is a big part of how I put things together. It’s like weaving a rug. I don’t know if that’s an apt analogy, but you don’t want the work put into the music to show. The best rug you ever saw, if you look at the way it’s put together, that work never overshadows the overall effect, hopefully. That’s the hardest thing, I think, in making music - to hide the work. You’ve gotta hide it. That’s really really important to me.

I：
Has that always been a key part of your approach?

J：
It’s always been there. I’m trying to think of where I learned that lesson, but I know I learned it very young. Definitely since like… it was like ’91, ’92 where I got out of the habit of highlighting the work more than what the work was supposed to produce.
That’s kind of part and parcel of how I work. A big percentage of the work is in hiding the work: it needs to live once you’ve killed it, you know what I mean? (Laughs)

I：
Part of the fun of listening to some of your recent records was that on multiple listens, it continues to fundamentally change.

J：
You’ve reminded me. I know I’ve said this before, but this was a big deal for me and it relates 100% to this. When I was in high school there was a movie theatre within like two hundred yards of our house and, because I would go there every day, they eventually just let me go in for free. So I was going there every day. And one day I was going there to go see a movie and my father said, “You saw that movie already, why are you going to see it?” and I remember saying to him, something to the effect of, “All of these people put like a year of their lives into making this movie. How arrogant would it be for me to think I could understand it all in two hours?” That was one of the things I really love about film: that good films didn’t have it all out there on the surface like somebody serving you a whatever course dinner. You had to dig in, and some things don’t work without that resonance, that’s very important, ‘cause time equals resonance, you know? One silly example, I remember when I was younger, I would read Naked Lunch every year, and I noticed that every year I re-read it, I learned more about me than I did about the book. Because I saw more of how I had changed, in that time, than the book had changed. Because the book, of course, hadn’t changed at all: it’s always been there. So that was also kind of a profound thing for me when I was a young ‘un.

I：
Perhaps there’s also this idea of having the space to find you way into something. It took me forever to get into Bowie because at first I thought it was “classic rock”, which just had so much baggage attached to it. But because there were so many entry-points into his work I eventually found one that worked for me.

J：
I can understand that. I had that a few years ago with Keith Jarrett. He was someone I knew I was supposed to like and I should have ‘cause I love ECM –70s ECM, the stuff I grew up on. And of course, he’s like a towering figure in that world and it took a long long time. It’s really only in the past two or three years that I finally cracked the code with him.

I：
I can understand that. I guess the point for me is that there wasn’t a single door. There were multiple doors in and I had to find mine.

J：
Right. Well I think there has to be like one initial door and when you open that door there’s all the other doors. Just like… (Laughs) I immediately thought of Genesis, sorry!

I：
You don’t have to apologize for Genesis!

J：
Oh, I will never apologise for Genesis! You’re never going to find a more hardcore Genesis fan than me – Peter era, of course. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is my favourite album of all time. But, you know, Genesis wasn’t embarrassing when I was growing up.

I：
Maybe “I will never apologise for Genesis!” is a good sentiment to end on. Thanks!

　世界の事象すべてをマクロ／ミクロにスキャンするようなアンビエント・サウンドがここにある。EP-4 [fn.ψ] （ファンクション サイ）のファースト・アルバム『OBLIQUES』の1曲め“Panmagic”を耳にしたとき、思わずそんなことを感じてしまった。
　聖性と変化。冷気と熱。柔らかさと硬質さ。時間と空間。重力と無重力。これらの世界の事象の両極を往復する立体的かつ多層的にレイヤーされたサウンドが鳴り響いている。『OBLIQUES』の試聴はこちらのサイトからできる。アルバムの一部だけだが、まずは聴いて頂きたい。

　結論へと先を急ぐ前に本作『OBLIQUES』の概略を簡単に記しておきたい。リリース・レーベルは80年代の伝説的（いや「事件的」とでも称するべきか）アヴァン・ファンク・ユニットEP-4の佐藤薫が新たにスタートしたレーベル〈φonon〉（フォノン）である。〈φonon〉は、80年代にEP-4『Multilevel Holarchy』、佐藤理『OBJECTLESS』などをリリースしていた佐藤薫主宰のレーベル〈SKATING PEARS〉のサブレーベルという位置づけであり、今後もノイズやアンビエントなどエクスペリメンタル音楽のリリースが予定されているという。2010年の佐藤薫復帰以降では、2012年のEP-4再始動に匹敵する大きなアクションではないかとも思う。
　今回のレーベル・ファースト・リリースでは、EP-4 [fn.ψ] と同時にRadio Ensembles Aiidaの新作『From ASIA (Radio Of The Day #2)』も同時に発売された。こちらはBCLラジオを複数台使用して受信した音を用いて聖性と神聖と現実を交錯させるアーティストA.Mizukiによる音響シャーマンとでもいうべき作品である。2017年に『IN A ROOM -Radio of the Day #1-』がリリースされている（このアルバムのライナーは佐藤薫が執筆していた）。独特の霞んだサウンドがもたらす意識感覚は唯一無二だ。『OBLIQUES』と『From ASIA (Radio Of The Day #2)』ともにある種、音響の「儀式性」といった側面では共通するムードがある。ぜひとも聴いて頂きたいアルバムである。

　さて、EP-4 [fn.ψ] に戻ろう。EP-4 [fn.ψ] は、佐藤薫とEP-4の別働隊でPARAの活動でも知られる家口成樹とのユニットである。2015年に結成され、これまでも京都、大阪、東京などでライヴ活動を展開し、その独自の音響空間によって聴き手に静かな衝撃を与えてきた。本作『OBLIQUES』は、待望の初CD作品である。これでわれわれリスナーは「録音芸術作品」としてのEP-4 [fn.ψ] のアンビエント／アンビエンスな音響世界を聴き込むができるというわけだ（ちなみにEP-4関係の新譜としては佐藤薫とBANANA-UGによるEP-4 unit3『À Artaud』から約5年ぶりのCDリリースとなる）。
　収録されている音源は2016年6月11日に大阪で行われたライヴ録音がベースとなっている。アルバムは9トラックに分かれているが、ベーシックはライヴ録音なので基本的にはひとつの演奏／音響として繋がってはいる。「基本的には」というのは、その音響は持続の中にあって複雑な立体性と多層性を獲得し、次第に変化を遂げており、いわゆる単一の音響が生成変化を続けるドローン音楽のライヴ演奏とは一線を画する。ドローンとノイズ、環境音と電子音、それらの音が多層的に組み合わされ、持続と変化が生まれているのだ。
　それはひとつの流れでもあり、複数の時間の結合でもある。音と音はシームレスに繋がっているのだが、しかし音は変化し続ける。いわば地上から空へ、小さな水の結晶から成層圏へ、サウンドはミスト／清流のように生成変化を遂げていく。

　その音に耳を澄ましていると、さまざまな変化が巻き起こっているのも分かってくる。人間と世界の音を媒介にした関係性を考察／感覚するサウンドスケープとでもいうべきか。世界に状況／情報をすべてスキャニングし、記憶を再生成するアンビエント。それは複雑であり、動的であり、しかしスタティックでもある。
　2曲め“Enantiomorphs”では、細やかなミスト・サウンドを発しながらも、その音響空間は次第に壮大になる。3曲め“Sonic Agglomeration”では儀式的な音がレイヤーされ、細やかな音のエレメント／モジュールが滑らかに、胆に大きなウェイヴを描く。4曲め“Pluralism”では音の打撃か鼓動を思わせるキック音が響きもする。だがそれもすぐに消え去り、5曲め“Pogo Beans”では環境音と持続音が波のように曲線を描く。ここまでの流れはまるで儀式のごとき厳粛さがある。
　続く6曲め“Hyperbola”以降は、それまでの粒子的電子音の清流から一変し、不穏なインダストリアル・アンビエントとでも形容したい都市のサウンドへと変化を遂げる。マテリアルな7曲め“Diagonal”、都市空間の監視カメラのような8曲め“Flyby Observations”を経て、最終曲“Plural (outro)”ではインダストリアルな反復音と“Pluralism”でも鳴り響いていたキックの音が再び鳴り響く。なんとも不穏なムードだ。透明な成層圏から再びこの地上へと戻ってきた感覚を聴き手にもたらす。
　マクロとミクロ。ミニマムとマキシム。フィクションとリアル。上昇と落下。この『OBLIQUES』を聴いているあいだは、その両極を往復しながら世界を、生物を、有機体を、無機物を、音を、音楽を、それら全体のアンビエンスを「感覚」で認識することになる。
　「感覚」とは多層的な情報を、高速で処理しながら人の心身に対して作用するように事象を圧縮・変化させるものだ。変化の過程、その受信としての「感覚」。変化の過程を受信し、感覚するとき、それは耳と脳を通して心にも効いてくる。「音楽を聴く」とは、「感覚」を拓き、「感覚」を受け入れ、「感覚」を新たに生成する行為ではないか。それはこの世界そのものを新しい感覚で再認識することも意味する。世界を斜めから見る／聴くこと。
　EP-4 [fn.ψ] の高密度にしてアトモスフィアなノイズとアンビエントは、そんな世界への「感覚」を拓く。感覚の生成によるサウンドスケープの交錯／融合。それこそがEP-4 [fn.ψ] 『OBLIQUES』の音響世界の本質に思えてならない。