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Dusted Reviews
Artist: Government Alpha Album: Resolution of Remembrance 1992-1999 Label: Pica Disk Review date: Jul. 30, 2010 |
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Approach noise from a quantitative end and see what happens. If you’re Yasutoshi Yoshida, this is something you’ve been waiting for all along. Resolution of Remembrance collects nearly every cassette/CD-R/vinyl single and compilation track across the noise artist’s first decade of operations – four full CDs in total, sequenced in chronological order, accompanied by a well-written booklet. Yoshida states that he wanted to reclaim the copious number of tracks he released at the outset of his career, ranging from single-source noise experiments to guitar work to synthesizer and mixer abuse; that he wanted the opportunity to control them after they left his hands. To be able to pick through the breadcrumb trail of operations from such disparate sources shows remarkable focus, as does Yoshida’s product itself.
So while the amount of organization shows initiative, this is an impractical release bordering on Merzbox levels of ridiculousness. You don’t need 100 CDs of this, or even four, when one would do – Yoshida’s is among the most lacerating, pain-bringing example of modern noise around, and once we get away from the early experiments in locating a sound, he has made an impenetrable object for evaluation. Only the strong, and possibly emotionally detached to the point of autism, could sit through this whole thing in one stretch. I’d put it on during my commute to and from work and time seemed to slow down, every excruciating second of the listening experience strobed and broken down into component milliseconds. There is power in sounds this punishing, but part of me feels like it should be used to flush Bin Laden out of a cave than being pushed through my earbuds. Even at quiet volumes, it dominates my entire sensory input. That’s more than I ask for from most experiences, particularly ones that could permanently damage my hearing in not very difficult to imagine scenarios.
I know that reading this makes it seem like I’m a noise dilettante. Far from it. I’ve been handed this object to evaluate, and here we are: the early tracks, of course, search for a basis to what’s coming out of the artist’s mind. From disc two onwards, this thing is an impenetrable mountain of brutality, a danger room for hobbyists and a serious commitment to even the seasoned noise fan. While Yoshida mixes things up slightly (some DHR beats at the outset of “Shine 1,” a relative title-forward frequency slide in “Trance”), for the most part this is the electric whip, flaying your skin into uneven little piles by your feet. And your enjoyment of this collection depends on whether that’s something you want to experience.
By Doug Mosurock
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View all articles by Doug Mosurock