Radiq: Graffiti 7 Rude Boy '67
RADIQ
GRAFFITI 7 RUDE BOY 67'
LOGISTIC RECORDS LOG041CD/LP
Yoshihiro Hanno is RadiQ, who whilst playing hopscotch between scoring Art Movies and pursuing celebrity collaborations with the likes of Ryuichi Sakamoto, Mick Karn and Jim O'Rourke, has found time to record his own albums. On the basis of this one would immediately assumes that there would be a lack of focus to "Graffiti & Rude Boy 67". Quite wrongly as it turns out, contributions are restricted to rap by French Gabonese Black Crom and post-Ubiquity croon by Terry (aka Terumi Shoji) and it's minimalism is thorough.
This highly original record seeks to find common ground between Glitch and both Dub and Jazz. While Pole's Stefan Betke has already made clear the structural parity between Dub's elemental deconstruction and the skeletal forms of Modern Electronica, the connection to Jazz is more novel. Indeed occasionally it's harder to find obvious affinities to the point at which it becomes a more profitable listening experience to relish their juxtaposition. Having said this there are precursors to Hanno's approach both in older electronic Jazz (Syreeta's TONTO production, Herbie Hancock's "Sextant" etc ad infinitum) and in more recent Jazz-tinged electronica, like Radiq much of which issuing from Japan: UFO and Major Force. I've never believed it makes for a comfortable liason when approached uncritically but, perhaps owing to the divinely empty soundscapes here, and the fragmentary qualities of Hanno's minor-key clusters it works.
Much of glitch is SO wearingly devoid of broader cultural engagement, engaged in a drama of nose-to-navel dynamics that we should welcome the fractalised piston-steam Hammond textures of "Sexual Fiction". Black Crom's chopped-apart rap on the track reminiscent of nothing so much as Arthur Russell's splicing of Andre B on "Clean on Your Bean", Crom also sounding fantastic on "Hip Hop Racine" in which Hanno place the rapper somewhere completely else in the mix, a million miles from, say, Grime's bark in your ear. On dubbier excursions like "Rude Boy Anthem", Hanno's attention to detail is exquisite, sampled sonic blocks of dust-engraved vinyl fizz with the unexpected: deflecting cymbals, electro-clicks, rustling and shards of piano are utterly compelling, benefitting from the 3d production in which they're immersed.
It's only when Hanno injects too much colour into these canvases swarming with microcosmic detail that the project trips up. True to form it's the hallmarks of "Jazz" that provide stumbling blocks. On "Till The Dawn" Hanno eschews his more normal looping and tiling of Terumi's voice, in which the voice becomes texture, hook and anchor, and gives free reign to her stylings. The results if not exactly Cleo Laine (mercifully) lie at the weaker-end of Herbert's work. Again the saxophone, which only appears briefly on "Rock Steady" is a bit mawkishly jazzy. Stiff criticisms for an otherwise excellent record.