If I were to sum up this entire record in a single word it would be
undeniable.
It's a controlled demolition, always on the verge of unraveling but
somehow managing to stay afloat just a bit more than you'd expect. It's a
lonely album; a lonely alto sax (sometimes a harmonica) screaming into the
listener's ear, the notes from the instrument accompanied only by the
sound of Kawashima's growling distorting them.
In a wonderful article I read recently, powerhouse guitarist and hero musician of mine Marc Ribot
was musing on the importance of distortion and volume in music, pointing
out how it's emotionally resonant for the audience to feel as if a
musician or instrument is powering through pain and struggle to deliver
their message to us, and I'd add that the pleasure we derive from it is
two-fold: it's the empathetic feeling that what the music is conveying to
us is so important, so emotionally resonant that the only way to convey it
is through broken, emotionally shattered voices and it's the triumphant
and uplifting sensation one can get from hearing the sound persevere
through the pain and come out the other side as a piece of art.
I think Zoe as an album is emblematic of this process: it's a difficult
but rewarding listen in which Kawashima explores the limits and extremes
of his instrument, whispered mellow long tones give reprieve from the
howling and frantic screams that make up a lot of the material on this
release; sometimes a melody bubbles forth and rises above the noise and
throat-rending growls only to be inevitably subsumed by them. Although
improvised and probably recorded in one take the album has a great flow to
it, with steady builds towards deafening emotional peaks and moments of
quiet in which you can hear Kawashima catching his breath or sliding his
fingertips off the keys. The idea of interpolating a few minutes of
harmonica playing in the middle of the session was also great as it
provided the album with fresh textures and modes of playing at exactly the
right time, avoiding the risk of some people finding the music too
monotone or samey.
A fantastic album made even more impressive by the fact that playing a
solo monophonic instrument is always a daunting task; to Marc Ribot's
delight (and mine), struggle and pain abound on this release, from the
strained altissimo notes to the grinding lows, everything hurts and
everything feels vital, urgentand so emotionally resonant as to be
undeniable, as are Kawashima's talent and musicality.
Words don't do this music justice, so go listen to it! Available digitally and on vinyl from Black Editions.
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