Toshiji Mikawa,Hideaki Shimada,Nobuo Yamada,Katsuyoshi Kou – Quasispecies Four lp
My reasons for treating this as Mikawa-led mutation are twofold. First, he did the mastering. Second, I'm a big fan; everything he touches is his, right? There may be third. The loose-fitting, freenoise disposition, with a tendency, at key intervals, toward char-burnt Borbetomania. Self-identified "Borbetomaniac" Mikawa seems the appropriate name-tag, right? The title "Quasispecies" also has a bit of a Mikawa flair to it, just to nudge in a potential fourth. If all this association may be granted, I'd say that Mikawa (with friends in tow) is on to a good thing. Freed of the brutalizations The Mikawa normally compels in its corporeal vessels, Mikawa (and friends) duly exploits the lush dynamic range afforded in the acoustic accomodations of Hatchobori Nana Hari. Nana Hari, to judge from the b/w insert, is a tiny performance space crowded, in this instance, with significantly more gear/junk than human bodies. A word on the bodies. Besides that of Mikawa (electronics), present also are Katsuyuki Kou (guitar, electronics), Nobuo Yamada (metal junk objects) and Hideaki Shimada (violin, electronics). For those keeping score, that adds up to a lot of electronics. But Quasispecies is as much document of the physical space as it is the semi-determinate species of gear/junk/bodies/electronics on offer. Delicate tensions meet surprised convergences, forced together in an awkward if pleasingly grating dishevelment, thanks in no small part to the artfully-broken junk-scraps Senior Yamada keeps unceremoniously dumping into proceedings, succeeding more often than not in disrupting any attempt at forward motion. This is particularly notable on the A-side, wherein the various bodies struggle valiantly to feel each other out- but keep blindly stumbling on equipment, stubbing toes and wapping heads. Most compelling are the dense textured juxtopositions constantly shifting and erupting through their myriad de- and re-formations, for which credit may be justifiably shared out. Through it all, the only consistently delivered events are courtesy the violin of Mr Agencement, perhaps the one to set the tone on the most utterly shrill ranges of extremity- which is obviously just the temptation certain of the cacophony-inclined were anticipating. Halfway through, someone, let's call him Toshiji, seems to grow impatient with all the dilly-dally. Harsher scathing inclinations drag the cacophonous host to properly scorched levels of indignation. At this point, any sense of polite feeling out of bodies goes out the goddamn window, the considered application of volume knob unveiling an almost completely satisfied indulgence of the harsher territories. The B-side is obviously recorded a take or two later, at which point all participants are probably quite deaf, no doubt tripping on ozone fumes. Here there is no pussy-footing. Things blast straight into the redzone – an exceedingly shrill, shriek-laden, redzone - and stay the twenty-minute course. If the physical space is still being documented, that's all good and well, but this shit is brutal, period. Just when you think there is no paint left to peel, a strategic breaking down of the flat-out. Gaps appear in the solid wall of white, earhole incapacitating piercings blast home via singed wave, percussive screech. Which only, of course, serves to augment the greater brutality. The closing half could be that legendary long lost early Incapacitants album- y'know, the primitive, acoustic configuration of Incaps, back before The Mikawa assumed control. (Only partly facetious here- see "Untitled" from T.Mikawa's I, Noise and apologize quick.) Here's hoping there are more Quasispecies in the mutating.
