KAZUMASA HASHIMOTO - Gllia

One of the most interesting and imaginative composers on the

Japanese scene returns to delight our senses with another sonic journey

made of light, color and grainy images. How could we not mention his two previous

works? “Yupi” was a perfect crossroads between minimalist classical music and

a gentle, soft electronic sound. Flashes of pure sonic inventiveness showed

how, right from his very first effort, Kazumasa Hashimoto possessed an

uncommon musical sensibility and compositional skill of the highest order.

The sweetness of his sound and his essentially calm approach

emerge with a shy kind of insistence, carving out a musical dream of fine

and lively detail. With “Epitaph” small variations are introduced, enriching a

formula that was already extremely rich in ideas on its own. The piano as a

solo instrument becomes more prominent, and a few more electronic breakdowns

are added in, without ever feeling intrusive. In some passages you can hear the echo of genuine

glitch music applied to classical scores. Certainly not an extraordinary

innovation, but one applied with taste and a childlike flair.

“Gllia” is a

record very different from his previous ones. It's worth saying so right away to avoid

misunderstandings. A work that is far more relaxed, less fragmentary, more cohesive and

orchestral. Kazumasa must have realized he'd run out of ammunition with

previous stylistic solutions, or simply there's been an evolution

natural and spontaneous. The length of the tracks stays roughly the same, with

the alternation between stretched-out pieces and short minute-long suites, to

break up the atmosphere or enrich it, depending on your point of view.

The opening is entrusted to that tender, amateurish sketch that is

“Theme”, an introverted voice tells us a very simple little story, the

piano sprinkles colors into the air with its crystalline notes, a delightful

buzzing undercurrent makes for the most welcoming of backdrops.

“Mr. Gleam” is

a (perfect) meeting between the most intimate side of Rachel's and the two Matmos, lovers of

fractured electronic music (not even that fanciful a meeting, seeing as the two

groups actually did collaborate). The composition is built on a series of

soft bleeps, drums played with a gentle touch, yet again a withdrawn

voice, reciting a poem barely whispered, almost afraid to

expose itself. It all unfolds with surprising naturalness, with a cello that

breaks the silence, a limping rhythm and a series of pauses steeped in

sly playfulness.

“Monochrome” is a dreamlike vision made real

through a xylophone that chimes brightly, small repetitive keyboard notes

are a pleasant obsession, a voice (this time male)

recounts its robotic fairy tale, with a hand on its heart and its mind lost among

the whitest clouds in the sky. A dreamy attitude blankets the whole track,

sketching melodic patterns of irrepressible delicacy.

“001[far]” is a

little interlude for a guitar strumming in disarray, a haze of

instrumental complexity, drops of icy electronics, a cutting string line and a

certain something mysterious that captivates, even as it conceals its identity.

Se

if you believe pop can still be contaminated, you'll be pleasantly

struck by a refined little gem like “Ne Connissons”, if not

disoriented yet at the same time soothed by the twin sibling of “Theme”,

“Ruinruin”.

The title track oozes passion from every angle you look at it,

gifting us a soft, ecstatic atmosphere: guitar notes still with a

polite manner, a piano hops along on one foot, the xylophone sketches a sky

with a rainbow rich in shades that are never quite the same. Towards the end, an

orchestral maelstrom creates something unique and priceless, fragments of an imaginary

planet where the trees are always green and sturdy, there are never any black clouds

and the sun shines, warming aching hearts.

A finely embroidered little picture

in the following “002[esbia]”, adorned with a magical percussion and an

uncontrolled sway of evanescent timbres; a kind of mutant jazz (?!) turns

up in “Milmils”, a snare drum played for a springtime little march,

joined by a pulsing double bass, finishing off a painting detailed down to the

smallest particular.

Letting your heart go to “Drama” is easy.

Lying down in a lush meadow, as the sun is slowly setting,

letting yourself be surrounded by the notes, without resistance, letting your mind travel

toward imaginative shores, half-closing your eyes, dreaming that the impossible might

happen, watching the frames of your own life go by. And its sound

will heal every wound, restoring a battered spirit, offering relief to a suffering

soul.

The conclusion of this wandering through earthly paradises and

pristine settings is entrusted to a cascade of sounds chasing one another

(“The Happy Days Passed Like A Dream”), followed shortly after by the hissing

“Curtainfall”, which ends on a note halfway between amateurish and melancholy.

An album recommended to anyone who doesn't know where to put their sorrows, to

be gently rocked to sleep. Everyone else, in spite of everything, won't be able to remain

unmoved in the face of this handful of songs, which seem written specifically

to soften even the harshest of hearts.

Ride the wave of great music

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27/04/2006