EIKO ISHIBASHI - Antigone

In the early nineteenth century, the two French historians Marc Bloch and Lucien Febvre replaced the concept of fine arts with that of cultural heritage, a principle that captured the idea that a work, beyond being conceived as a commodity, is above all a moral and spiritual necessity, a true testament to civilization. For Eiko Ishibashi, every creative act is a moment of pure spirituality and artistic affirmation. Her new album “Antigone” is yet another chapter in the many she has scattered across a career spanning more than two decades, largely shared with another dispenser of total artistic gestures: Jim O’Rourke.

Eiko Ishibashi's music is often described as uncategorizable; in truth, the Japanese artist's work is elusive, hard to pin down, unpredictable, varied — yet still categorizable. “Antigone” is a project that, while reworking her early pop intuitions, revisits the ecstatic art-pop beauty of “The Dream My Bones Dream”, enriching it with further precious details and musical experiences. For those familiar with musicians such as David Sylvian, Talk Talk, Julia Holter, Angelo Badalamenti and certain Ecm jazz, these eight songs are further variations on a theme, perfectly interlocking and finely worked, with a multiplicity of ideas and arrangements that scoff at aesthetic perfection in favor of a nobler, more refined conception of the song.

The Donald Fagen-style sophisti-jazz groove of “Coma” and the intricate prog-folk mini-suite with its intriguing literary undertones, “The Model”, represent the two extremes within which Ishibashi navigates with skilled compositional and instrumental flair, as well as a deep knowledge of her craft, blended and skewed with a touch of cosmic surrealism (the Japanese artist has in the past declared her admiration for both Genesis and Joni Mitchell). 

“Antigone” is an album that states its intentions from the very first introductory notes of “October”, a track that, between hints of psychedelia, odd-time jazz signatures and orchestral grandeur, woven synthesizers and voices recorded in the background, brings to life a powerful, visionary music; it comes as no surprise, then, that the delicate ballad “Mona Lisa” sounds like a soundtrack for an imaginary, unmade David Lynch film.

What's even more striking is the Japanese artist's ability to craft compositions that are rich and elaborate, yet essential in their structure. Sometimes it's the at-times imperceptible shifts in tone and chords that are the real protagonists of the songs (“Nothing As”), other times it's the extreme care given to each instrument that forms the nodal center of the compositions (“Continuous Contiguos”); at the same time, Ishibashi's voice is enchanting, to the point that it seems almost impossible that over the last seven years her recorded output has leaned more toward film scoring and ambient digressions (“Drive My Car”, “Evil Does Not Exist”). 

In a year already rich with notable releases, it's nonetheless hard to imagine a more touching and intense moment than the title track, a chamber-pop piece laid over elegant blues notes that perfectly capture the drama evoked by the figure of Antigone, a heroine symbolizing courage and loyalty — values that today resound as a warning for a generation that seems to have lost hope.

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01/05/2025