Remblandt Assemblage (1980)

When describing music (or trying to), a writer will often begin by explaining the mood invoked by it. Even without lyrics, the combination of chords, timbre, tempo, etc, can combine to create a sound one might describe as happy, dreamy, angry, triumphant, sexy, what have you. This is true for any listener, have they extensive music background or untrained ear, and occurs at an instinctual level.

My comments on the first two discs of the Merzbox have, thus far, been purely descriptive: what do the sounds actually sound like? Merzbow achieved something of a breakthrough in 1980 when his music, whether accidentally or by design, evoked a mood in a fairly obvious fashion. "Remblandt Assemblage", the lead-off track from the album of the same name, begins with a deep grinding sound that comes off as genuinely eerie, even ominous, like something you might hear in the more atonal sections of a horror movie score, somewhere between music and sound effect.

It doesn't last, of course. Some arhythmic industrial clanging quickly fades in to remind you that you are indeed listening to the Merz, my friend, so don't get too comfortable. Still, the moment portends a shift that takes place on this album, the most accessible (although that's really not saying much) of the three I've listened to so far: it's starting to sound a little bit closer to actual music. Three thing contribute to this development: the opening moment described above; shorter tracks (only one over ten minutes, and three under three); and more instruments, specifically guitar.

In fact there's a lot of guitar, and ocassionally a bit of percussion to accompany it. "Theme Of Dadaist" is essentially a nine-minute guitar solo, and while Merzbow's technique never threatens to advance beyond the "What are these strings for?" stage, at one point some percussion starts up and, for a brief moment, seems to converge rhythmically with the guitar. It's almost as though the Merz is on the verge of, dare we say it... jamming? Naturally the threat is quickly averted, but the impression lingers.

The album's centerpiece, "Prepared Guitar Solo 1" clocks in at over seventeen minutes, and consists of little more than what sounds like an industrious chimpanzee amusing himself with a radio dial, some pots and pans, and an untuned acoustic guitar. I just realised that last sentence has, at one point, three consecutive prepositions, and is perfectly grammatically correct. Still, what's clearer here than on the first two albums is the presence of human (or, at the very least, simian) intelligence. Whereas even the "drum solos" on the first disc sounded more like malfunctioning electronics than any sound a rational individual might produce, Remblandt is indisputably the product of a restless, probing mind.