Triola - Scapegoat

A Closer Listen

In the Book of Leviticus, a scapegoat is sent into the wilderness, bearing the sins of the community; if it returns, it is killed.  In modern society, the scapegoat is the one who takes the blame, even if the blame is not theirs.  Triola (the fluid ensemble led by string musician Atsuko Hatano) expands on this concept on the album of the same name.  Scapegoat is conceived as an “imaginary opera,” fleshed out by electronics and vocal contributions that further the narrative.

The album begins with the sound of a classic film reel, a tip-off to its cinematic qualities.  The strings begin to play, coy at first, then dancing in “Through Amber” as Anzu Suhara steps forth on violin.  Already the album possesses a joyous sense, a rejection of the scapegoat moniker, an owning of terms.  The artist has decorated his face with gems.  What is beauty, and who has the right to define it?  When the artist returns to the same themes only two tracks later, the entire setting has changed.  A choir is singing, chairs are rustling, order and chaos are at war.  The very title – “Faux Pas” ~ seems like an inside joke.  This is no mistake; instead, it’s an alternate reading.

Revisiting the original tale, one realizes that the goats came in pairs.  One was driven away; the other was killed as a sacrifice.  Wouldn’t one prefer to be the scapegoat?  If such a creature were able to intuit the danger it faced, might it not set out for territories unknown, wild and free, able to choose its own fate, apart from labelling and anthropomorphizing?  And if so, wouldn’t it feel like liberation?  This is the sound of the album while it wanders into the wilderness of sound.  “Bid me farewell, so long,” sings Hatano on “The Farewell,” the first legible words, halfway into the album.  Conversation bubbles in the background; the words of the crowd no longer matter.

The title “Second Runner” is open to interpretation, but one would like to imagine that the second goat decided to make a break for it, to follow the first, or that another in the crowd, touched by the plight of both, rejected society’s norms and decided to investigate the alternative.  The track speeds and slows, runs and rests.  Toward the ending, the runner reaches a lush space, filled with flowing water and chirping birds: a personal oasis, a Garden of Eden.  And finally, trumpets: a triumphant fanfare.  There will in fact be a parade, albeit a quiet one: a personal parade.

In the end, “a gem named Scapegoat finds its form.”  One might view this scapegoat as the artist or the listener.  One need not take the blame of others, or submit to their definitions.  Once one settles in the wilderness, it is no longer wilderness, but home.  (Richard Allen)