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.

Metal Acoustic Music

The wife just called down to ask, "Is that you making that noise that sounds like a teakettle?"

So last night we're eating dinner and a really loud hum starts coming from the basement. I forgot I had left OM Electrique on my playlist and it just started playing. And my wife said she couldn't hear it. At all. Had no idea what I was talking about. But she can hear Metal Acoustic Music.

It was the first time I had gone back to listen OM Electrique since moving on to Metal Acoustic Music, and was struck by how subtle the first track is. There's not a lot going on in it unless you turn it up or listen on headphones. By contrast, the second disc is far busier.

I'm listening to it now and find that the more I listen, the more I realise that, while the CD may be sequenced as one track, it's really not just one piece. A little after ten minutes the noise dies down for a few seconds before a different noise starts up. That happens again five minutes later. But they all have a similar vibe, so I guess the Merz felt like it was all part of a single long-form composition. And who am I to question the Merz?

Metal Acoustic Music (1980)

So I'm giving this one yet another listen. Perhaps the most surprising thing I've noticed over the past few days is that it's quite different from the first one. You'd think the whole box might just be 50 discs of the same shit, but no, the Merz already sounds pretty diverse after just two albums.

Not that he's in any danger of being called musical, mind you. It's still just a bunch of noise, but it's different sounds from obviously different sources.

Ironically given their respective titles, this disc sounds more electric than the last one. While the first had audible drums being played on more than one track, this one is basically just varieties of static, without an acoustic instrument to be heard. Some other notes:

• Way more stereo separation on this one, to the point where it sounds as though the left and right channels consist of two completely unrelated tracks for several minutes at a time. What's interesting is the way they seem to drift back together, rather than synching up abruptly. It's one of the many subtle details that remind you this isn't just random noise; there's a conscious design at work here.
• The whole album consists of one 46+ minute track entitled "Balance of Neurosis". If that's the only track, why not call the album that?
• This album works at any volume. You can hear subtle details in the layers of noise if you crank it, but at a lower volume it almost functions as one of those background-noise machines that just play ocean waves or whatever. I actually put this on when I was going to sleep yesterday, and it was... well not soothing necessarily, but pleasant and interesting.

This is definitely a more challenging listen than the first one for a couple of reasons. For one thing, the all-one-track thing requires a little more focus on the part of the listener. For another, it kind of drifts from sound to sound, whereas the individual tracks on the first CD seem to have a clearer sense of purpose.

I've actually found myself wanting to go back and listen to the first one at various times this week, like I miss it. Am I becoming a Merzbow fan? If so it's happening more quickly than I expected. That's certainly a positive development, or else it's gonna be a long year.

OM Electrique (1979)

"Ummm... what's going on down there?"

My wife's voice tumbled down the basement stairs, a mix of genuine curiosity and anticipatory bemusement. It hadn't even occurred to me that she could hear what I was listening to, so I was surprised to hear her askng about it. I think she expected me to tell her I was enthusiastically pursuing yet another misguided project, like drilling holes in something because I read somewhere online that it'll make something else sound better. She wasn't sure whether to believe me at first when I told her I was listening to what was ostensibly music.

Merzbow's 1979 recording OM Electrique sounds, for the most part, like a malfunctioning household appliance. Think, perhaps, of a furnace with a loose bolt rattling around in side. Now imagine someone recording that sound for thirty minutes and releasing it commercially. That's about all you get out of early Merzbow. There are tones that sound like some sort of feedback, and these could be described as "notes", I suppose, but they do not form a cohesive scale of any sort. Anything that might be called a rhythm is far too irregular to bob one's head, let alone dance, to.

And yet I'm already drawn in. I've listened to the album about a half a dozen times in the past couple of days and I actually find myself looking forward to listening to it again. It sounds monotonous at first, but there's a subtlety beneath the surface that slowly gathers my attention, until I'm listening closely without realising I'm doing so.

I'm at work. A few minutes ago, I was listening to the title track on headphones again when I noticed another sonic level I hadn't heard before. There was a rattle that seemed to echo the main clanging sound on the track, as if he was using some sort of delay effect. There was also a sort of distance to the way the sound was mixed, like he was using some kind of delay to make the sound seem to come from in front of me to the right. When the track ended, the sound continued, and I realised it was coming from the air vent in the ceiling.

I don't usually listen to music at work, so I'm used to the office being silent, but right now it's deafening. I can hear the buzzing in the ceiling vent, the hum of the air unit behind me, a slight whine from my computer monitor, and occasional muted bits of street noise from out the window 48 storeys below. It's as though listening to manufactured noise has conditioned me so that I am no longer able to ignore actual noise. I know it probably sounds like that should be driving me nuts, but it's not. If Merzbow's work is music, then there's music all around me all the time.