Sunday, 21 June 2015

NEW RELEASE! Lo-shi: 貘 / Baku



Another new release today, with the vinyl edition of instrumental kraut'n'bass duo Lo-shi's Baku finally available to buy. The band released the album online last year, and after a long and arduous process, a physical edition in black plastic is finally out. It will be available at the band's release party at Kichijoji GOK Sound today (June 21st) and will appear in shops gradually.


貘 / Baku (CAR-73)

Side A
1. Me wa Sai
2. Karada wa Kuma

Side B
Ashi wa Tora
Hana wa Zo
O wa Ushi


The album is a terrifying and beautiful exploration of cathartic darkness, ambient noise and Twin Peaks-esque reverb-soaked soundscapery, and in advance of its release, I met up with Eric "Gotal" Fournier and Julien "Ralouf" Bielka to talk about music, philosophy and dick jokes.

Interview between Ian Martin of Call And Response Records and Lo-shi:

We’re sitting in an Iranian restaurant in the Tokyo suburb of Asagaya. Ralouf and Gotal haven’t slept for two days and are already two or three beers ahead of me. We’re talking about the concept of YOLO, which has briefly taken over part of our circle of friends in a way that may be either ironic, philosophical or just plain stupid.

GOTAL: Julien often says “YOLO”.

IAN: You seem like the least YOLO band I know. Is your music YOLO?

GOTAL: Mine? Yes, sure. I mean, what is YOLO though? “You Only Live Once”, right? For me, that just means I don’t want waste time doing bollocks.

IAN: I think it’s really a word for stupid kids being dumb on holiday.

RALOUF: It’s a fake, postmodern carpe diem.

GOTAL: It’s what all the zombies say, [Adopts moaning zombie voice] “Yoloooooo!” That’s a travesty of the meaning.

IAN: It feels to me like something that comes from advertising and marketing. They constantly push the positive and that becomes a sort of propaganda in society. I think the difference is that we place genuine value on the negative.

RALOUF: We’re not trying to be negative though. There’s a sort of negativity that becomes a sort of obligatory sarcasm, a kind of narcissistic negativity. We think it’s important to be critical, like in the video projections we use at shows. They’re critical but they also show hot, naked women.

GOTAL: He means we try to show beauty.

RALOUF: In France it’s all about being cool,  ironic, sarcastic, but historically irony was a weapon against power. Everyone’s ironic now, but then they just go out and vote for fucking Sarkozy. They’re slaves.

IAN: They’re not using the irony for anything.

RALOUF: No, it’s just a pose. I’m a slave too, but I’m a king in my head... don’t print that!

IAN: But you also teach at a Christian university.

RALOUF: No problem. It’s well paid and I turn the cross upside down at the end of the day.

IAN: So how do you square this critical attitude with playing at the Red Bull Music Academy stage at the Taico Club music festival this year?

RALOUF: The point is that we were chosen to play at that event. The message we take is that the music we do is valid.

IAN: But what does the validation of a fizzy drinks company mean?

RALOUF: No... ah, sorry, fuck the English language! The  others aren’t valid, just us!

GOTAL: I think he means it wasn’t luck when we played at their event the first time. The first time, we were just drinking with Damo Suzuki at 4AM and I don’t think he listened to our music even. He just decided he liked our energy and said “Come on, do it!” So we played the Red Bull Music Academy gig and people really liked it.

RALOUF: The guy came up to us after and said, “That was fucking heavy, dude!” We’re a strange pair of guys, “Why are those guys there?” But there we are!

IAN: So getting invited to play the Red Bull event isn’t so much about the event itself as it is an opportunity to see yourselves from the outside. To see what you’re doing in a same context as all those other “real” musicians.

GOTAL: Right. We’re not musicians, we don’t fit into any scenes, and we’re not interested in just being a couple of guys cosplaying at being noise musicians. We liked doing the Tententen [A series of small monthly events in association with Call And Response Records that ran for a little over a year from 2013-2014] events because they were breaking those boundaries and at the same time being unpretentious and simple. Over time, we’ve come to see ourselves doing music.

RALOUF: So we are musicians! Actually, I’m not comfortable calling us musicians, saying “I’m a musician,” which is basically the same as calling yourself an asshole. But totally shit bands go around calling themselves musicians, and hey I’m doing music too, so maybe I’m a musician actually.

GOTAL: We’re doing it to have fun, which sounds like some horrible YOLO thing, but we’re trying to save our lives. It’s not a pose, we’re not wearing biker jackets, shades, doing that bullshit cosplay. We’re not putting ugliness on top of ugliness, dressed up in a stupid costume, screaming into the mic. We’re putting beauty on ugliness.

RALOUF: But beauty can be boring.

GOTAL: Yeah. Beauty should be fresh. These days we’re very into the French philosopher Quentin Meillassoux, and he says miracles are that which goes against the laws of nature.

RALOUF: Miracles happen because there is no God. It’s speculative realism.

GOTAL: We talked about YOLO earlier, and if you break it down, the words actually mean the opposite of what that phrase represents. It’s like when you see an “event” on Facebook and that’s pretty much the definition of a non-event.

RALOUF: Like when James Joyce said when he hears the word “love” he wants to puke.

IAN: So there’s a tension and dualism to what you do?

GOTAL: Really we’re just trying to make things happen. We’re trying to save our lives.

RALOUF: We don’t want to be on the cover of the NME, because our faces are so ugly.

[At around this point, Gotal is starting to cast “Shut up, you’re fucking up the interview!” type glances Ralouf’s way.]


GOTAL: Fighting boredom is a very difficult struggle.

RALOUF: With our small penises!

GOTAL: Our microdicks, yeah! But criticising fake things doesn’t make us happy. What we really want to do is find the moments that make sense.

IAN: As I get older, I find more and more that tolerating stuff I think is shit just isn’t worth it. I get given a lot of CDs as a music journalist, and there was this album by a band called Passepied. I was listening to it, doing what I usually do and trying to find what was good with it, and then my wife came home from work and just said, “What’s this? It’s shit.” – And I thought, “Oh yeah, it is. It’s just shit.” Later on, I started seeing articles written by people I knew appearing over the web saying what an amazing band they were, and it was like seeing a vision of the kind of bullshit I’d just narrowly avoided doing.

[Around this time, Gotal goes outside for a cigarette break and Ralouf goes over a list of things he’s said and begs me not to print them (they’re all in here).]

IAN: So let’s pretend for a moment that this is a proper interview, and you tell me about how the band formed.

RALOUF: We started out in a metal band. The other guys were like, “We’re two musicians and you’re two wankers!” They wanted to live off music and make money.

GOTAL: They didn’t ever say that, but it felt a bit patronising sometimes. One of them had done a “maybe debut” – he’d made music for anime – and the other guy was in the backline for a bunch of bands as a session musician. They were good guys, kind, but thanks to them, we wanted to do the opposite.

RALOUF: Playing music is a game. If you get too serious, the game stops, but if you’re not serious enough, the game can’t even start. It’s hard to find a balance.

GOTAL: “Lo-shi: The Game” – live action roleplaying.

RALOUF: I like that scene in Pinnochio, where they go to the island where everyone is playing all the time. It’s presented as a warning for children, but that’s paradise for me. I’m a situationist: everyone should enjoy the role they play. In real life, rules are boring, but in a game I’m happy to accept rules. The rules of a game are a cool parody of legislation.

IAN: So how about the album itself?

RALOUF: So the title, Baku, is named after a kind of mythological chimera that eats bad dreams – that makes you live again. It’s like the story of Orpheus, who makes music and poetry, goes into the Inferno, and with those two things is able to live again. The Baku isn’t so far away from that idea: it eats nightmares and lets your dreams live again. Our first dream as a band was to be in a bath with Haruna Kojima from AKB48, but we have bigger dreams now!

GOTAL: Our other dreams are actually fulfilled. That one was ridiculous.

RALOUF: I’m into dancing, but no one dances these days. Why? Because they’re full of bad dreams.

GOTAL: Before we hooked up with Call And Response, we never even knew there was something like that out there.

RALOUF: All we could find at live venues was these wannabe scenes. Finding Call And Response gave us a lot of confidence.

GOTAL: It’s rare to find a place like that where people leave their egos at the cloakroom. That’s what was good about Tententen, and the new event we’re doing at Studio 35 Minutes. That place is amazing: just two minutes from my home, but we just went in there and meet everyone. It was very unpretentious, friendly, not just people listening to themselves. The owner is this amazing photographer. He tries to capture the gazes of animals at zoos. It’s disturbing. You feel this sense of longing for something else. The magazine Studio Voice wanted to do an article about his place, so he made sure they came on a night we played, just to get us in the magazine.

IAN: It’s like with Taico Club. There’s such a thin line between recognition and obscurity.

GOTAL: It’s like Meillassoux again: impossible things happen! Being an artist isn’t just a business. If you’re going to do it, it shouldn’t just be to turn it into consumer goods. It should be because you want to create something.

RALOUF: If you think about it in terms of supply and demand, supply should come first.

GOTAL: I don’t want to make music to satisfy a demand.

IAN: That’s why you don’t get paid. The money in the music scene is all demand-side, not supply-side. Some say artists should refuse to play if they don’t get paid, but I’m not sure how that would work. Where’s the money going to come from?

GOTAL: What, that the artist has some kind of right to be paid? I don’t think so. Apart from anything else, 99% of artists are shit.

RALOUF: In ancient Greece, artists were superstars, but now we’re gathering in ghettos. That’s not normal, surely! But it’s best not to think about money. It’s best to be a bit naive.

GOTAL: Japan is a terrible place in terms of turning  music into money.

RALOUF: In France, you just earn it from the state. Is that good? Being subsidised by the state? I don’t know.

GOTAL: “Official art” – the shittiest of the shit! If you pay artists, often the quality comes down.

RALOUF: I blame the French Revolution. Before the Revolution, artists were protected by the king, but by the time of the Industrial Revolution, people like Baudelaire were living in poverty. They were miserable, but they were better. They called them the “artistes maudits – the miserable artists – but this was an idea that only came after the Revolution.

GOTAL: It’s terrible, but the most revered poets and painters came from that.

RALOUF: It’s a condition of total freedom, but... [Makes a sad face.] It might have been possible in the 1970s or something to be authentic and popular, but now? Ha!

GOTAL: In indie culture now, you might be able to make money if you had a miracle, but why mimic something to chase after that ghost? So much indie culture now tries to be subversive, but all it’s doing is mimicking capitalism on a smaller scale. We could be doing better things. Revolution!

IAN: So what do you think it is that you’re trying to do? What is that better thing you’re reaching for?

GOTAL: Sorry, I have a headache and a hangover after last night! On Wednesdays I work 9:30AM to 9:30PM, and then Julien and I go out, drink, talk philosophy and ideas. In the end, I don’t know who comes up with what. We just find our way forward gradually.

RALOUF: The cover of Baku features a join-the-dots image that you can draw on. You connect the numbers, but it’s impossible to know what the image is until you draw it. Music for us is like that.

Saturday, 20 June 2015

NEW RELEASE! 白痴 / Hakuchi: チンドンDING DONG! ~ みのくるいマーチ ~ / Chindon DING DONG! ~ Minokurui March ~


チンドンDING DONG! ~ みのくるいマーチ ~ (CAR-71)
(Chindon DING DONG! ~ Minokurui March ~)

1. イントロ / Intro
2. アタタタ / Atatata
3. 食欲 / Shokuyoku
4. ウグイス / Uguisu
5. 人間 / Ningen
6. マンション / Mansion
7. トラ吉 / Torakichi
8. おもらし / Omorashi
9. のけもの / Nokemono
10. ワクワク / Wakuwaku
11. うれ線 / Uresen
12. どん続(チンドンremix) / Donzoku (Chindon Remix)

2015/06/21, ¥1,300 (+tax)

Disk Union (+ 5 song bonus CD/R!)
Tower Records
Bridge
Amazon
Tsutaya



2009年秋、ハラグチ(guitar/vocals)とマル(bass)2人で佐賀県神埼市千代田町のジョイフルにて結成。

Hakuchi formed in autumn 2009 as the joyous enterprise of  guitarist/vocalist Haraguchi and bassist Maru in Chiyoda-cho, Kanzaki City, Saga.

2010年に杏ちゃん(drums)が加入し、現在に至る。これまでキングブラザーズ、嘘つきバービー、モーモールルギャバン、オシリペンペンズ、DODDODO、The Zoobombsらと対バンをし、九州インディーシーンで今最もエキサイティングなバンドといっても過言ではない。

The current lineup was completed in 2010 by the arrival of drummer An, playing shows with the likes of King Brothers, Usotsuki Barbie, Mowmow Lulu Gyaban, The Zoobombs, Oshiripenpenz and DODDODO. The band claim with all modesty to be the most exciting new band in the current Kyushu indie scene.

白痴のサウンドを一言で例えるなら、熱狂的なポストパンク・ジャンク。そしてエキセントリックなユーモアのセンスが光っており意味のあるようでない彼らの歌詞はあふりらんぽ、Limited Express (Has Gone?)、The Morningsと良い勝負だろう。

They play a kind of ferociously energetic postpunk junk, characterised by nonsensical lyrics coloured by an eccentric sense of humour, in a way that would be familiar to fans of Afrirampo, Limited Express (Has Gone?) and The Mornings.


白痴のファーストミニアルバム「チンドンDING DONG! ~みのくるいマーチ~」は、全12曲入りの計25分尺!!意外にポップかつ短い楽曲で「飽きられる前に素早く終わるライブ」には定評がある白痴らしい作品に仕上がっている。

Hakuchi's debut album Chindon DING DONG! ~ Minokurui March ~ features twelve songs in under 25 minutes -- short, unexpectedly pop songs from a band who have gained notoriety and acclaim on the live circuit for "finishing quickly so you don't get bored".

Sunday, 14 June 2015

Fashion Crisis, June recap

Thanks to everyone who came to Fashion Crisis on June 5th despite me forgetting to post the info on this page (does anyone even get event info from this page anymore anyway?) It was one of the best nights in recent memory, with both Matt-on-Matt Violence and DJ Tutti playing out N'toko tracks that really drove home how much we miss having him around. It was also fantastic to have DJ Memai back behind the decks and to welcome Ryo Kokura from old friends Usagi Spiral A for the first time at this event. The more things change, the more they stay the same. James will be back for the July edition after his sojourn in Morocco. And here's the flyer, more for my own archival reference than any use it'll be for y'all.

Wednesday, 27 May 2015

Tententen: Insurrection Dance (LO-SHI「貘」VINYL RELEASE PARTY) - June 21st, 2015

Tententen is making a brief but spectacular comeback this June, exactly six months after its last outing. With the more spacious venue of Kichijoji’s wonderful GOK Sound, the event is a release party for Lo-shi’s new limited-edition vinyl release of 『貘』("Baku”) through Call And Response Records.

Joining Lo-shi (who will perform on this occasion with dancer Misako Kikuchi) in this nightmare-devouring revolutionary dance spectacular are junk noise EBM whirlwind Halbach, progressive-Kraut-disco sound system Transkam, and Osaka’s finest minimal postpunk-industrial duo Yolz in the Sky. DJs Evil Penguin, James Hadfield and Tententen regular Ian Martin complete the bill.

Place: Kichijoji GOK Sound
Date: 6/21 (Sun)
Time: 5:00pm
Cost: ¥2000 (no drink order)
Live:
- Lo-shi (with Misako Kikuchi)
- Yolz in the Sky
- Transkam
- Halbach
DJs:
- Evil Penguin
- James Hadfield
- Ian Martin


Thursday, 30 April 2015

Fashion Crisis (May 2015)

Golden Week is upon us, and while our own golden god James Hadfield will be away on travels, we will have plenty of precious musical nuggets from our glittering array of guest DJs. In addition, we are proud to welcome special live guest Mogura ka Maigo. Is he a man or a mole? Find out on May 1st at Koenji One!



Place: Koenji One
Date: May 1st (Fri)
Time: 8:00pm-midnight
Cost: ¥500+1 drink (FREE before 9:00pm)
LIVE:
- もぐらか迷子
DJs:
- M:Bröckel (from Berlin)
- DJP
- Snack Manami
- Ian Martin


Sayuu (左右) and Umez in Kyushu - May 2nd-May 10th

Call And Response is in Kyushu for some action this Golden Week, including two short tours by bands from the Tokyo and Yokohama area and a rich roster of the finest bands Kyushu has to offer. Of particular note, joining Sayuu for two dates are Hakuchi (白痴) from Saga, who are currently preparing a debut album to be released from Call And Response in June. Meanwhile, Neue Sanssouci (ノイエサンスーシ), who dazzled and confused Tokyo audiences at the last Call And Response event in Tokyo, are hosting the final show of the tour with Umez on May 10th.

STAGE 1: Sayuu (左右)



5/2 (Sat) Rockride (Saga)
18:30/19:00, ¥1500+drinkLIVE: 左右 / 白痴 / The Utero / Be Here Now
DJ: Ian Martin (Call And Response Records)

5/3 (Sun) Utero (Fukuoka)
18:00/18:30, ¥2000+drink
LIVE: 左右 / 白痴 / 赤虫 / z/nz / マクマナマン
DJ: Kaname K (Trinitron) / Ian Martin (Call And Response Records)

5/4 (Mon) Navaro (Kumamoto)
20:00/20:30, ¥1500+drink
LIVE: 左右 / 石頭地蔵 / 小林どろり / カルトス
DJ: 通行人


STAGE 2: Umez



5/8 (Fri) Utero (Fukuoka)
18:30/19:00, 1800+drink
LIVE: Umez / ナルコレプシン / Family Computers / Abyssal (ex. Azma Shoegaze Explosion) / Zarest
DJ: malamura (Eiffel Tower) / Ian Martin (Call And Response Records)

5/10 (Sun) Panic Paradise (Nagasaki)
17:30, ¥1500+drink
LIVE: Umez / 三回転とひとひねり / Friend of Trip / ノイエサンスーシ / + more

Monday, 27 April 2015

NEW RELEASE! SHARKK: SHARKK EP

As Call And Response Records prepares for its first releases of its tenth year since it was founded in 2005, I’ve been looking back on what I was trying to achieve with it and the extent to which I’ve had any success with that. It’s not a big label, and I never wanted it to be, but what it has done is help foster a small community around its base in the Koenji area of western Tokyo.

The idea of the role community plays in the indie music scene is something that comes back again and again in my thinking, and one of the biggest successes I’ve had with Call And Response is in how a small crowd of musicians and other creative types has grown around the label and my monthly Fashion Crisis party. In particular, there’s a core of musicians who, like a musical equivalent of Marvel’s Avengers or DC’s Justice League, regularly team up and cross over into each other’s projects, helping each other get their creative ideas off the ground.

With the label’s ten year anniversary coming up at the end of the year, Call And Response is helping the members of this musical superhero team as best it can too, by putting out a string of new releases from some or hopefully all of them.



First up is this cassette EP from Sharkk, a.k.a. Sean McGee. I met Sean through his role as drummer in instrumental post-rock band Henrytennis, although he shares his talents widely, playing in (future Call And Response releases) Looprider and Tropical Death Metal, as well. Sean spent his youth ricocheting between the US, United Arab Emirates, Venezuela and Vietnam. It was at middle school in Venezuela where he started playing in bands – something he continued through high school in Vietnam (one of his early performances drew the dubious praise of a fugitive Gary Glitter), before settling in Japan in 2006.

Sharkk’s self-titled debut EP is available as a cassette from Call And Response or as a download directly from the band’s Bandcamp. In the lull between the completion of the recording & mastering and the delivery of the finished tapes, Sean and I sat down to listen to music and talk about the EP.





SHARKK (CAR-72)
(Cassette)

1. Stick Around
2. Cinnamon
3. If I Could Be Giant
4. Changing For The Weather (Feat. Jordan Kyle Sirven)
5. Doe


Interview between Ian Martin (IM) of Call And Response Records and Sean McGee (SM) of SHARKK:

We’re already a couple of beers in by the time I start taking notes, and I’ve just pointed out that the title of the song Changing for the Weather is misprinted as “Dressing for the Weather” on the tape jacket. We’re having a geeky discussion about the origins of emo and realising that the age and geographical gap between us has left us with quite different formative memories of some kinds of music. In On The Kill Taker by Fugazi is playing in the background.

IM: Listening to this now I realise I just wouldn’t have understood this growing up in Britain in the 90s. It’s only after moving to Japan and getting into the music scene here that American music really started making sense to me.

SM: Me too, I think. Not hanging around in Bartlesville, Oklahoma I wouldn’t, but living in Vietnam I kind of got what was cool about it. I think if I’d stayed in the US, I’d have ended up listening to completely different stuff.


IM: Does this count as emo?

SM: Haha... no. Emo kids will like it though – you can pump your fist in the air, let it all go. Fugazi were still political though; they were fighting against something. Emo doesn’t really have anything to say: it’s privileged white kids being sad about what’s going on in their little space and not paying attention to other people – it’s easy to make fun of emo! With this EP I really don’t take that approach. It doesn’t take the political route either though. I want people to relate but I don’t want to be so obvious and on-the-nose about it. I want to give people a bit of space to take it how they want. I was joking with this friend of mine who did the cover art for the tape, Mike Taylor, about making an experimental album and he described the idea as, “The sounds are not exactly intelligible, but they signify great meaning to the poor bastard trying to make sense of it all.”

IM: That’s basically all music! Just think about REM – totally unintelligible lyrics and Michael Stipe is hailed as a genius.

SM: I’m just thinking now about how I’m going to tell Jordan (Jordan Kyle Sirven, co-writer and contributor on Changing for the Weather) I got his title wrong. He wrote the lyrics except for the chorus, which I wrote. I said, “You don’t mind that it’s got this kind of anti-cop message?” and he said, “No, that’s perfect.” I still don’t know what it’s about though. I asked if I can call it Changing for the Weather and now they all have the wrong title. I wonder if I did it unconsciously because I like misprints so much. Better that one rather than one of the others, so at least me and Jordan can joke about it.

IM: Rather than just you stewing in your own shame.

SM: Yeah, “Sorry man. Fuckit.”

IM: So you wrote the melody, yeah?

SM: Yeah. I made the track and said, “Scream here. Say what you like.” Then I added my vocals. He sent a demo and the lyrics and then I wrote based on the vibe I got.

IM: Why cops?

SM: It’s not really about cops – they’re just the easiest ones to direct the most extreme problem I have with authority at. Teachers always told me at school that I had issues with authority, but as you get older, you meet assholes and that just reinforces it. Living in Japan, cops are an easy target because they’re sort of weak and they hassle you for petty reasons. A worse example was when the US Navy came to Saigon and the sailors were all swaggering around, asking, “Where’s the whorehouse?” Living in the international community at that time, you’d often get this attitude along the lines of, “9/11 was something you guys kind of asked for,”  and that kind of bums you out, but then the US Navy comes to town and it reinforces everything they say – people you are supposed to respect are acting like jerks. I have a similar issue with the whole sempai-kohai thing (institutional hierarchy based on seniority) – I respect people if it’s deserved.

IM: The thing that gets me in Japan is how they try to make it seem so fluffy and cute, like with the police mascot Pipo-kun. Those guys carry guns – they represent the implied violence of the state in its power to enforce behavioural rules on you – and it’s presented as something fluffy and cute, treating you like a child, looking up to authority and being happy and grateful for it.



SM: The leader of the second serious band I was in in Japan was really big on that sort of “sempai” thing. “You don’t need to be told when you’re good: you only need to be told when you suck.” Well actually, quite the opposite! He had this approach of beat you down and then build you up. No, I’m just going to stop playing for you. It broke up the band and broke up our friendship – that’s partly what Cinnamon is about, or at least something I had in mind. I think a mentor is someone who has more experience and uses that to help, teach, build you up. They have faith in you, know your weaknesses and help you grow. Authority is just saying, “You should be this, you suck.” It’s morale-breaking and toxic. And it’s against the spirit of what indie music is about.

IM: Is that one of the differences between your music and emo then? That you can’t deal with that sort of “you suck” negativity?

SM: Is emo negative? I think fans would say that it’s not negative: it’s romantic. My lyrics are sometimes negative or angry, but emo is negative in a depressive sort of way, not a fuck-you sort of way.

IM: It’s too self-obsessed to be angry at others?

SM: I think I do both, but then that’s just rock music, isn’t it? Sentimental rock. When I think of my music in terms of emo, I think it comes down a lot to the influences. I like the idea of “word painting”. At it’s simplest level, that’s when you sing the word “high” and the melody goes up, or when you’re singing about something dark, you sing it in a dark way. I don’t actually do that, but where there’s a particular sentiment I want to express, I’ll sing it in a way that highlights a particular word or phrase – which is something al lot of my influences do.

IM: But what music doesn’t do that in some way?

SM: Yeah, but my influences really rely on that approach. In hip hop, the MCs I like do that. They’re not singing, of course, but they deliver the lines in a way that brings out the meaning. There are great MCs who are really rhythmic, or have great words, great tracks, but there are also MCs who are more emotive, not purely rhythmic.

IM: I guess it can go to far in that direction as well, though, right? I wrote a song once called My Boring Feelings that was a sort of satire of confessional, emotionally-wrought songwriting.

SM: Yeah, you don’t want to alienate people completely by banging them too hard over the head with it. Stick Around is a good example of that, I think. No one’s going to really know what that’s about because it’s made of two parts that aren’t directly related, but parts of the lyrics are still something people can relate to. It also has enough ambiguity that it keeps things mysterious. The only really literal song is Doe: Doe’s a love song – standard shit! I don’t like boring emotions, so I hope to take away the boring part by adding ambiguity, imagery, something that enables people to visualise something.

IM: So Stick Around was originally made from two different songs?

SM: Well, one of them is really talking about music. It’s angry, saying, “No, I don’t want to wait around: I want to do it!” and say, “fuck ‘em” to everyone holding me back. But then there’s something about death in it as well, so it gets vague. It’s saying everything dies but it’s OK because you keep going – “Get outta my way!” I don’t want people to think I’m telling death to get out of the way here, but it’s the line “I don’t need no one to tell me / That it all just trails away,” and in that it all gets wrapped up together, because that relates to people who are involved in music as well.

IM: What you were saying about delivery is interesting too. I guess there are a lot of ways of singing that don’t directly relate to the content but that are distinctive in other ways because of the particular vocalist.


SM: Recently I’ve been listening a lot to the Sleaford Mods and thinking, “This is so cool, but do I just like this because of the accent?” I mean, could an American possibly do this?

IM: I think there’s a bit of an American parallel in something like Jonathan Richman’s delivery in The Modern Lovers, but it depends on the individual vocalist’s characteristics. I mean, could another British guy do what the Sleaford Mods do? There’s Mark E Smith, but that’s a bit different, and there’s Shaun Ryder, but that’s different again. Pavement?

SM: They’re back now. Sort of.

IM: The ‘90s is back, man. New Blur album, Happy Mondays and Ride at Fuji Rock. There’s a lot of the sound of the ‘90s in the Sharkk album too, I think.

SM: Superchunk are back too. They’re one of my favourite bands.

IM: Guided By Voices came back, released six albums, and split up in the space of two and a half years.

SM: Without them, I don’t think I’d have ever had the motivation to keep trying after I first started writing songs in high school.  I came across them in 2003 and I’d already given up on writing songs. I listened to all their early, really shitty-sounding stuff, and it encouraged me. They did what they wanted to do, put it out, got it done, and people loved it. The Cloud Nothings’ early seven-inches more recently also inspired me a lot. I drew a lot musically there.


IM: Your EP’s much more nicely recorded than anything Guided By Voices would have been able to do.

SM: It was a kind of messy experience. After I got the vocals down, I didn’t really know what to do with it because it was my shit. Julian likes loud vocals but I didn’t want it to be right in your face, so we kind of met in the middle there.

IM: That’s Julian Peters, the engineer.

SM: Yeah. I knew Julian from the “foreign rock scene”, with Jimmy Binks & The Shakehorns, and he’d mixed this compilation I was on. I was looking for someone to mix and master the album, so I thought I should kind of “use the scene”, support the people around me.

IM: That’s quite Japanese in a way. The idea that you should know and have a relationship with the people you do business with.

SM: It’s also very indie – having a collective, a community, is important. Julian understood my influences, so first we recorded at his place. That was where we got to know each other really. The way we took breaks was that we’d destroy the tracks with this Cher-style autotune. Then him and Yoyo (Ryotaro Aoki of Looprider) helped recording guitar and drums. At first I wanted to do it as lo-fi as possible, so I borrowed Yoyo’s four-track, but then the concept changed and I started wanting to make it better, but you can’t really do that once you’ve started from that lo-fi point. We ended up meeting in the middle and Julian made it sound good, but he’ll work right from the start next time.

IM: The idea of a community seems quite important. When no one really makes any money, and the music industry itself doesn’t really look after the music scene, the music that gets made is only ever as good as the community it grows out from.

SM: Yeah, the music scene is very important. That scene around these foreign musicians, like Jimmy Binks, The Mootekkis, The Watanabes and others are always really supportive of everyone, and then here in Koenji with the Call And Response crowd. I used to live in Koenji and I never even know there was something like that happening. I think if scenes overlapped more, it would be great, especially now that I’ve been part of a couple of different ones, but, y’know, some bands want to make it big, they want to get organised, but if you’re making music with people you like – there’s nothing bigger than that!

IM: You play with quite a lot of different musicians on this EP. The list of contributors makes a pretty extensive musical community in its own right.

SM: Right. I should mention as well Esther Thirimu. She’s actually a proper singer, who sings professionally and she was in the Arashi movie (Pikanchi Half, 2014), but I was in a band with her for a while and thought she had an amazing voice, so I wanted to use her as the sort of “voice of encouragement” in Cinnamon. There’s a lot of my past self that I wanted to get out in this album, but also lots of people, lots of recent friends, who really influenced it. I think my old self comes through, but it’s very much a snapshot of what’s happening around me now. Julian, Ryotaro and Esther are all people I’ve got to know in the past couple of years or so, while Jordan and Mike are old partners in crime. Jordan was in my first band together, so he knows what it means to me to be releasing something. I wanted them involved, but I also wanted to celebrate where I am currently. It’s a kind of chapter closer for me – in fact, that’s what If I Could be Giant is about: people are going to think it’s about a girl, but it’s really saying, “Goodbye, my sixteen year-old self!”

[Crickets: The Best of the Fading Captain Series 1999-2007, a compilation of side projects by Robert Pollard from Guided By Voices is playing in the background now. The song Death of the Party by the Keene Brothers comes on.]



SM: It’s funny, because listening to GBV I suddenly feel completely OK with having the wrong title on that song.

IM: This song has an amazing opening line: “She used to be an American airline...” I’m a big fan of a strong opening line. What are the opening lines like on Sharkk?

SM: Let’s see, the first is, “I don’t need no one to tell me / That it all just trails away.” OK, that’s stupid! Then on Cinnamon it’s, “When you mark us / You never get the coding right”. If I Could be Giant is, “We were just like aeroplanes / Vast skies where we collide and fade away.” The fourth one, Jordan wrote that, so I don’t know what it’s about: “I’ve been getting used to the whole dressing for the weather thing” – oh, so he does say “dressing for the weather”! Then the last one is, “Secret nights, doesn't make any sense to me / Wrong in us, all we needed was us.” So I guess Cinnamon is the coolest one. I was thinking that anyone who buys a cassette, I’ll hand-write certain lines from one of the songs on the blank side of the tape. All the ones I was planning to write are pretty lame though, now that I think back on them.

IM: I think if you’re going to do something as lame as writing lyrics on a cassette, then you kind of have to write the lyrics that you poured your heart into, right?

SM: Yeah, exactly! “Hey, I made you a tape!”

IM: “And you broke my heart!”