Best Japanese music of 2019

A personal Top 10 Japan albums of the year


When I joked a couple of weeks ago that we’d probably all be feeling nostalgic for the 2010s by early January, I hadn’t imagined quite how bad things could get in the first few days of the new decade. Writing about marginal music as the world seems to be hurtling into oblivion feels futile, but if nothing else, perhaps some of the sounds featured here will persuade you that humanity doesn’t deserve to be consigned to the dustbin just yet. These are the 10 (okay, 11) albums by Japan-based artists that tickled me the most during 2019. For a more thorough rundown of the year’s releases, you can also check my Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter wraps of notable music.


1. Jim O’Rourke – To Magnetize Money and Catch a Roving Eye

Sonoris


Longtime Japan resident Jim O’Rourke has had a busy release schedule recently, including collaborations with Brunhild Ferrari and CM von Hausswolff, but this monolithic 4CD set stands apart. Enveloping yet elusive, slow-moving but never aimless, To Magnetize Money and Catch a Roving Eye charts territory that may feel familiar to Steamroom devotees, its longform pieces as transfixing and inscrutable as watching light play over a landscape. It was released just late enough in the year to miss out on most publications’ Best of 2019 lists, but something tells me its creator would prefer things that way. Majestic.

2. Kukangendai – Palm

Ideologic Organ


Math rock, that most mirthless of genres, has been getting reinvigorated by a new generation of bands who combine sequencer-grade precision with Reichian restraint. Kukangendai are every bit as tight as compatriots Goat, but unlike Koshiro Hino’s troupe, they delight in introducing bugs into the (man) machine, deliberately fucking with their minimal riffs at the cellular level. The focus and control on display in Palm is extraordinary, and I’m still baffled that the album didn’t get more attention, despite its release on Stephen O’Malley’s Ideologic Organ imprint.

3. Madam Anonimo – il salone di Anonimo

φonon


I can’t remember the last time I bought an album after hearing it on a listening post, so thanks to Tower Records Shibuya for introducing me to this. Released on the streaming-averse φonon label, il salone di Anonimo is billed as the first and last album by an unnamed septuagenarian singer with roots in the late-’60s avant-garde. Her strident, occasionally wobbly readings of torch song staples (“Non, je ne regrette rien,” “The End,” etc.) are given varied garb by producer Jun Morita, from jagged orchestral cut-ups to lonely organ drones. Think late-period Scott Walker or an am-dram Diamanda Galas and you’re in the right zone, but this is a uniquely weird proposition.

4. Carl Stone – Himalaya/Baroo

Unseen Worlds



It’s impossible to pick a favourite from the two albums Tokyo resident Carl Stone released during 2019, as they complement each other so darn well. Himalaya is the more substantial release, featuring both Stone’s trademark “time slicing” edits—in which tracks are exploded and reconfigured in a way that makes them seem to be playing at every imaginable speed all at once—and two longform pieces, including a beautiful duo with frequent collaborator Akaihirume. But Baroo, released earlier in the year, also gets my vote on the strength of its riotous title track and “Panchita,” the delirious K-pop cut-up I never knew I needed.

5. Kumio Kurachi – Sound of Turning Earth

Bison
 

Well, this was unexpected. Singer-songwriter and artist Kumio Kurachi has been active since the 1980s, developing a distinctive approach based on koto-derived guitar tunings, open-ended song structures and a rich vocal style full of theatrical flourishes. He made his overseas debut at London’s Cafe Oto in 2009, and a decade on, the venue’s Abby Thomas has bestowed him his first international release on her Bison label. Recorded by Jim O’Rourke, Sound of Turning Earth is an entrancing introduction to Kurachi’s craft, with songs that seem to pull you in deeper the more you listen, whether he’s peddling surreal fantasies or wondering what to have for dinner tonight.

6. Dos Monos – Dos City

Deathbomb Arc


After all these years, I still find the Japanese hip-hop scene a tough one to crack. With their absurdly enjoyable debut LP, Dos Monos crafted a record that any old chump can dig. I can hear echoes of Simi Lab or even MF Doom in the way they make merry over twisted, discordant jazz samples. Dos Monos may be starting to find a wider audience, but they still sound like they’re more interested in making each other crack up. Who else would have the audacity to sample Monk, or namedrop Yuya Uchida and Dostoevsky in the same verse?

7. Nanaentai – Shi wo Haramu Koe

Horen
It’s hard to find much info on these percussionist ascetics, but recording engineer Yasushi Utsunomia makes up for it with his liner notes, a treatise on transcending the limits of stereophonic sound. Shi wo Haramu Koe captures a cymbals-only performance at the duo’s Ntiti building in Osaka, with an eight-channel interleave on DVD. If you don’t have an eight-speaker setup at home (who does?), the binaural CD “thumbnail” mix is superb, folding street sounds into an extended piece that builds layers of Harry Bertoia-esque metallic shimmer and rhythms which overlap like a city’s worth of church bells on a feast day. (Available here.)

8. Tasho Ishi – Dentsu2060

Presto!? Records


Japanese fetishism is such an integral part of the vaporwave aesthetic, when Dentsu2060 appeared—loaded with references to Satoshi Nakamoto, Lost in Translation, Initial D, etc.—I suspected it was a wind-up. It seems that Ishi is actually a real person (even if I have my doubts that “advertisement critic” is a real job), and his mutated muzak has stood up better than some of the other electronic releases I got hooked on earlier in the year (sorry, Meitei!). Just be warned that the way he interpolates scraps of conversation and everyday sounds into the mix makes for unnerving headphone listening if you crank it while actually wandering around Tokyo.

9. Hikaru Yamada/Hayato Kurosawa Duo – We Oscillate!

Companysha Ltd.


Much as free improv is one of my favourite forms of live music, it’s generally the last thing I’d think to stick on at home. This duo album by saxophonist Hikaru Yamada and guitarist Hayato Kurosawa skips straight to the good bits, editing what were presumably longer performances into pithy tracks with self-explanatory titles like “#7 (contact microphone duo).” Rather than waiting for 10 minutes until things get interesting, it’s a constant flurry of delights, full of detailed interplay and some pretty wild extended technique. The only iffy moments, in fact, are when the duo attempt to play straight.

10. Friendship – Undercurrent

Daymare Recordings


For all the subtlety and intelligence of much of the music featured here, sometimes it’s nice to wallow in the mire. Friendship’s flab-free sophomore album is the sonic equivalent of getting head-butted by a tar monster. You could start a riot with the drum intro to “Vertigo” (which doesn’t appear to be a cover of the U2 song), and the group sustains that intensity across the album’s just-right 22-minute runtime. My copy came with a bonus CD of early recordings that’s nearly twice as long, and also shows how much Friendship have honed their assault. They still sound like ogres, but ogres who’ve been doing some serious time in the gym.

Honorable mentions

Yosuke Tokunaga – 8 Furnitures (Madriguera) | Bandcamp
Wool & The Pants – Wool in the Pool (PPU) | Bandcamp
Lemna – Retrocausality (Horo) | Bandcamp
Bonnounomukuro – My Pretty Pad (φonon)
Kohei Amada – Kyogokuryu-sōkyoku “Shinshunfu” (EM Records) | Bandcamp
Nariaki Obukuro – Piercing (Sony Music)
Chai – Punk (Otemoyan Record)
Hiroyuki Ura – Ghost Note (Zoomin’ Night) | Bandcamp
Fumitake Tamura – Tamura 000 (Black Smoker Records)
Marewrew – Mikemike Nociw (Tuff Beats)