#alixkun

Last year, Jazzy Couscous put out a truly remarkable collection of ambient music and synth-pop from Japan titled 雲の向こう (Kumo No Muko), which, to put it simply, ranks among my favorite compilations ever released. The 2xLP set was a sincere gift to all of us interested in the revival of the gentler new age and balearic strands of Japanese music and Jazzy Couscous founder Alixkun poured his heart and soul into the project, spending a decade collecting and compiling obscurities and then graciously sharing them with the world. But it came at a cost and in a detailed interview over at Ban Ban Ton Ton, Alixkun describes the nightmarish undertaking of licensing songs from the stringent, unflinching, and bureaucratic major labels within Japan that still own much of this music. It was no doubt a painful process full of dead ends, wasted time, and sacrifices of vision, with entire record labels being completely unwilling to negotiate, which in turn drastically reduces the pool of available selections and leads to entire reformulations of track selections (something that plagued Spencer Doran’s and Light in the Attic’s expansive Kankyō Ongaku as well, leading to, for instance, the very notable absence of Midori Takada).

Despite the soul-sucking difficulty involved in putting such a compilation together, we are all very fortunate that Alixkun had enough energy and resolve to release yet another transcendental collection of Japanese rarities, this time carrying the title 雲の向こう 2丁目 (Kumo No Muko Ni Chome). The 2xLP set is billed again as a “journey into the ambient + synth-pop sounds of 80’s Japan,” and while this description is certainly fitting, just like the first volume, ambient and synth-pop are only part of the story, for across these twelve tracks, we are treated to colorful musical paradises awash in balearic romance, new age splendor, Laurel Canyon psychedelia, seaside jazz spirituality, exotic tribal ritualism, post-classical enchantment, outsider glam rock strangeness, and pastoral prog folk. And amazingly, there’s almost no overlap with the first volume, as Alixkun pulls in a new host of artists to further realize his magical world of Japanese ambiance and childhood imagination. And like last time, those vibes are helped along by a breathtaking layout from Lucy Harris, who here seems interested in how the fantasy creations from her 雲の向こう (Kumo No Muko) artwork interact with the mundanities of modern city life.

雲の向こう 2丁目: Journey Into the Ambient + Synth-Pop Sounds of 80’s Japan (Jazzy Couscous, 2019) We open with “12 No Garnet” by Miwako Saito, with breezy acoustic riffs and sounds evoking alien slide guitars lilting alongside echoing snare drums and tambourines. Saito’s spellbinding vocals drift like a lullaby above the blissful dream folk sway, mostly lovelorn and soft, while occasionally ascending into radiant highs…as if a youthful angel is soaring upon pounding rhythms and psychedelic hazes. We rush into some sort of ecstatic chorus at certain moments, with acoustic guitars tracking the vocals alongside bleary string orchestrations and during a triumphant climax, fragile singing intertwines with bombast passages wherein symphonic drums smash through shimmering diamond synthesis. And before it all ends, an electric piano emerges from the void, playing gentle renditions of the previously ecstatic melodies…like a closed-eye remembrance of what once was. The lone holdover from the first 雲の向こう volume is Yoshio Suzuki, who appears this time with “Touch of Rain” (from 1986’s Touch of Rain). A contrabass thumps beneath guitar arpeggiations and e-pianos sparkle amidst chime strands while ocean fantasy sequences ascend toward the clouds. Elsewhere, we move into sections of ambient prog, with every instrument locking together and moving through breathtaking runs and lush romantic themes. Giant chords crash down before dispersing into silence, after which the double bass solos beneath gentle guitar atmospherics, with the marriage of exploratory fusion and exotic ambiance reminding me of Motohiko Hamase. From faraway, the song appears breezy and simple, yet closer inspection reveals a prog micro-verse proceeding within a new age paradise, one dominated by dazzling progressions, stop-on-a-dime transitions, and interwoven melodic complexity.

Before even looking at the artist behind “Mizu Iro No Kagami,” I knew it had to be Ayuo Takahashi, for this piece forms an incredibly close kinship with the artist’s “Nagareru” appearing on Kankyō Ongaku. As in that track, piano chords crash like gently waves against shore, with cosmic atmospherics and oceanic ethers flowing in the background…possibly sourced from smeared out woodwind loops. But whereas “Nagareru” features the radiant voice of Koharu Kisaragi, here in “Mizu Iro No Kagami.” we are treated to heart-wrenching violin themes, all cloudscape explorations and orchestral winter ethereality. Incandescing pools of sound lap around ivory chord explorations as the violin backs off, letting the keys sparkle and shine amidst a lustrous soundbath wherein fluttering woodwind hazes evoke some whirlpool of deep blue. And elsewhere, the violin climbs towards the heavens…screaming with ecstatic energy as the piano breaks from from the chord spells and alights on classically-kissed lullaby adventures. Guitars strum through phase shifters in Toru Hatano’s “Kanki,” generating vibes of lackadaisical stoner magic and Lauren Canyon dream psychedelia. Anthemic fuzz solos soar over head, sometimes executing elven dances across the fretboard while at other times screaming towards the stars. The phaserwaves splashing off the six-string riffs are so thick and immersive as to bathe the mix in an interstellar glow and as string synthesizers fade in from the void, they carry with them epic 70s prog orchestrations. And beneath these layers of symphonic mesmerism, the pot-soaked blues jam continues undeterred, with touchstones including the rustic psych-folk of Morrison Kincannon and the hippie spacerock explorations of post-Barrett and pre-Darkside Pink Floyd.

I can’t enough of the work of Akira Ito, whether it’s the prog psychedelics of Far East Family Band or his expansive discography as a vibratory and new age healer. In “Essence of Beauty,” which comes from Ito’s remarkable 1986 album Marine Flowers (Science Fantasy), a crashing wave introduces exotic sequencing while mallet instruments cycle and crazed oscillations arc through the sky. Bursts of squelching acid bass fade into nothingness, dub chords ring out, and crystalline leads moving through drunken solos while electro-kicks stomp through starscape jungles of tribal tom tom ritualism, reminding me of the interplanetary folk of Craig Leon and the magical dub experimentalism of 7FO. A hallucinogenic synth lead weaves Japanese traditional music into an interstellar exploration while insectoid rhythm fx fire on the beat and as everything slowly recedes, the crashing waves return to wash the mind clean. “Flower Moon” comes from the sole Osamu Mizukami album The Waltz for Fireworks, and sees gemstone sonics locking into shining arps over low slung drum exotics, with touches of bossa nova and samba merging while swooning strings and Mizukami’s woodwinds sing songs of the spring. Piano’s drift between chord riffs and solo explorations while bongos and congas flit across the spectrum, leading to a balearic swing awash in fantasy romance, all island breeze chill-out rhythmics meeting beachside fusion jamming. Saxophone melodies awash in touches of cinematic jazz snake amidst glowing orchestrations while layered pianos solo together and at certain moments, the mix backs down into hollow bass plucks and glittering sequences. It’s a perfect end credit theme fro some noir kissed anime…as bombastic as it gaseous…hitting with power but also liable to disperse on a warm sea breeze.

In Tomoko Yasumo’s “Sur la terra” mechanized toms, tambourines, and claps accompany a flubby bass groove as waves of choral synthesis and fantasy electro-flutters flow beneath gaseous brass, with everything strongly evoking the tropical energies of Wally Badarou. Yasuno’s conversational hypnotics move through a seaside synth pop dreamworld until idiophonic patterns replace the voice, with drums now awash in jazz energy and bass synths dancing through sensual fusion motions as e-pianos add touches of jungle bop exotica. Elsewhere, the whispered conversations return, now proceeding over a jam so radiant and harmonious it practically carries the spirit towards the heavens. And nearing the end, we enter another passage of jazz fusion exotica, with trumpets scatting on sunbeams and pianos glowing with soul energy before classical Hollywood strings bathe the spirit in melancholia. Sitars drone over world percussion in Masanori Sasaji’s “Rune,” yet instead of progressing into psychedelic ethno-folk, the track swims towards lands of twilight mystery, with crystalline synth leads ascending on starbeams and sunset orchestrations awash in vibes of cinematic noir. Sometimes the mix backs down into soft piano seascapes and passages of ambient jazz while at other times, finger rolling hand percussion and buzzing sitars underly mermaid choirs, aqueous organs, and abstracted synth explorations that sound as if whale songs are merging with tones of glass. And so it goes for the rest of the track, as passages dominated by romantic piano explorations, sunset orchestrations, and joyous hand drumming alternate with shadowy landscapes wherein crystal-toned melodies, cloudform atmospherics, and jazz chords support waterfall ivory runs while congas and bongos bop over a kick drum pulse.

Shi-Shonen’s “Harvest (Long Size)” features a drumkit storming through outerspace phasers, with psaltery jangling and keyboards screaming. A drugged out bassline enters while snotty glam vocals shout over top and during moments where the singing drops away, daydream electronics whoosh over stomping rhythms. The vibe changes at some point, moving into a balearic glide wherein the bass slips and slides, jazz drums pound, vibrato guitars drop delirium waves, and a blaring brass section pushes the vibe towards some big band stoner jam out. Later, we flash into dream ambiance, with gorgeous strings and wavering guitars floating through an aqueous cosmos. And from this meditative soundbath, Shi-Shonen lurch again into weirdo glam funk, with the whiny vocals and thumping basslines now accompanied by crazed horn themes while tack-pianos move through some futurescape saloon swoon. Curiously, following this mutant fusion freak out, we are transported to some forgotten port town, where a lonely soul weaves accordion sea shanties. Plonky e-pianos and chiming glitter begin Flat Face’s “Hibi No Awa” as a feminine voice coos through emotive soul whispers. Basslines pound and rainbow hued synth leads climb through ambient prog patterns until eventually, a drifting rhythm enters, with claps and tambourines supporting a springtide dance of virtual woodwinds. Synthesizers are trailed by golden light and backing singers join the mix, helping the layered vocals soar through candy-colored motions as the spirit is transported to some exotic pop paradise. Later, after backing down into crystalline leads and piano minimalism, the drums, voice, and flute lilt back in as bulbous basslines float the soul, layered keys solo joyously, and ecstasy angels sing wordless songs of romance.

“Barcarolle” by Hiroko Kokubu is ambient jazz transcendence, beginning with hand drums tapping out whispers and piano chords shimmering before giving over to flowing ivory cascades. The hand drums recede as the keys dance through sunshine meadows, with cymbals swelling radiantly and a contrabass walking on air...the result a sort of a dopamine infused bebop float aglow in gaseous new age beauty. The hand drums occasionally re-enter to bash wildly beneath cloudform romanticisms and the pianos melt over the mix with glowing starlight and pastoral fantasias in a way reminding me of McCoy Tyner, all powerful chord progressions crashing towards the sky and breezy soul leads relaxing the mind. And as the track progresses, a trap kit drummer increasingly erupts into gentle explosions, evoking abstracted jazz tribalisms and adding layers of dissonance via bowed cymbals. 雲の向こう 2丁目 ends with Mio Fou’s “Picasso No Ao” and a lonely guitar tracing out water melancholy. Pianos fade in from silence to join the ambient meanderings while hovering swells of atmospheric mystery hover in the background…electronically sourced but sounding like a choir singing from the depths of the sea. Sometimes piano and guitar lock together and dance through themes of childlike wonderment while elsewhere, Hirono Mio’s vaporous voice replaces the guitar with wordless sing song fantasias. Then comes Hirobumi Suzuki, his voice replacing Mio’s starlight croon while martial snares build in the distance…the whole thing somehow reminding me of Explosions in the Sky, only as if backing a dreamy city pop duo. Feedback melodies waver like reflected moonlight and near the end, ecstatic chamber strings careen over the mix, with viols screaming like Warren Ellis amidst a paradise of pop ambiance.