Source: Bounce.com
DJ Krush will release his newest album in two years, titled Jaku. Already released in Europe and the US, the album gets a Japanese release date of Nov. 3. Based on the concept of “Wa == Eiwa, Choowa”, the album features a number of traditional Japanese instrumentalists, including Morita Fukuyama, Kinoshita Shinichi and Sakada Myo. Shakuhachi, Tsugaru shamisen and wataiko figure into Krush’s sound. Jaku will be released as an super audio CD hybrid and contain two bonus tracks.
Between Bruce Springsteen’s The Rising and boycotts against the Dixie Chicks, it’s easy to overlook the fact people outside of the U.S. have opinions on 9/11 and the War on Terrorism.
Cause we don’t clean up our own shit
And when refused we throw a fit
As we scream “I don-wanna-hear-it” “I don-wanna-hear-it”
“Don-wanna-hear-it”
You won’t find that couplet on a Toby Keith single, nor even a Sleater-Kinney song.
The author of the lyric is Angelina Esparza, a Los Angeles-based, half-Japanese, half-Latina singer, and she delivers those words on Shinsou ~The Message at the Depth~, an album written and recorded by Japanese artist DJ Krush.
Despite working with some of hip-hop’s finest talents, Krush usually expresses himself wordlessly, allowing his timbres and textures to do the speaking.
On 2001’s Zen, Krush’s music was contemplatitive, soothing without being sentimental, minimal without being repetitve.
Shinsou, by contrast, is agitated.
From the start, “Trihedron”‘s stuttering beats and gravel-rough effects show the events since September 2001 have unsettled Krush.
And it doesn’t let up. On “Toki no Tabiji”, Japanese rapper INDEN raps frantically over synthetic effects and beats reminiscent of dropping bombs.
“Sanity Requiem” is an ironic title — the track feels neither “sane”, nor restful. In other words, the world’s done gone crazy. Similarly, “The Blackhole” layers dischordant harmonies and blurry effects over nervous rhythms. That title isn’t ironic.
While Steve Earle crunched a lot of people’s underwear singing in the perspective of John Walker Lindh, Anticon offers up “Song for John Walker”, which takes a more scattered aim against American suburbia in general.
But the most sobering perspective on the album is that of Esparza. Replicating ACO’s earlier role as Krush’s sweet-voiced foil, Esparza delivers the most bitter words of the album on “Aletheuo (truthspeaking)”, a video of which is included on the CD.
“The institution you attend/And all the clones that you befriend/Just seem to finalize your end.”
Shinsou does end on cautiously optimistic note with the deeply reggae “What About Tomorrow”. Abijah implores “No more bombing No more shooting Let the children be”.
Krush’s collaborators on Shinsou may not attract the kind of literary criticism lorded on the likes of Springsteen or Earle, but in reality, they’re not incredibly central to Krush’s mode of expression.
In the end, it’s the music that speaks volumes for the DJ, and given its aggressive and unsettling tone, Shinshou says more than enough.
Don’t shy away from this album if:
- You’re not big on hip-hop collaborations.
- You don’t know heads or tails of the whole club music thing.
Allow me to disclose fully my own inability to channel club music as a listening experience.
I like drum ‘n’ bass and techno and what-not while I’m checking out bare-chested dancers in a gay bar, but I wouldn’t put any of that music in my stereo.
Zen, however, works outside of a club context, thanks largely to DJ Krush’s inate talent to impose a song structure to music that usually doesn’t call for any.
DJ Krush has usually been filed under “trip-hop”, a label imprecise for the kind of music Krush produces.
His collaboration with ACO and Twigy on the non-album single “Tragicomic” brought together dark, ethereal melodies, growling bass lines and two incredibly distinct vocal talents — ACO’s pouty singing, and Twigy’s Ebonic-inflected Japanese.
Zen follows that basic aesthetic, backing off a bit to be less intrusive, more atmospheric.
The music backing Black Thought on “Zen Approach” feels almost transparent. “Day’s End” fully integrates Kodama Kazufumi’s muted trumpet in a tapestry of restrained beats, classical guitars and glassy synthetic timbres.
Even the more aggressive tracks don’t feel heavy-handed.
“Vision of Art” does a fine job of housing Company Flow’s gauntlet-throwing raps in a lush arrangement that isn’t at all pushy. “Duck Chase” humorously sputters from abrupt start and stops but never loses a sense of proportion.
DJ Krush’s music works best when it draws inward. N’dea Davenport delivers a beautiful performance on “With Grace”. Boss Da MC infuses “Candle Chant” with a quick-paced momentum totally fitting with the track’s mellow vibe.
By squeezing his ambient textures into a more-or-less traditional verse-chorus-verse pattern, DJ Krush makes Zen accessible to listeners unfamiliar or intimidated by both hip-hop and electronica.
You don’t need to step into a dance club to figure out Zen is a remarkable work.