KASHIWA Daisuke - Ice

A Closer Listen

We invite you to spend a single, unforgettable hour with KASHIWA Daisuke, whose new album is a clash of the titans.  Three kaiju – post-rock, electronics and modern composition – battle for dominance in the most intricately plotted album of its kind since label mate World’s End Girlfriend’s Last Dance.  The cover, suggesting shards, is perfectly chosen, as the album is filled with slices and splices, with splinters of light shining through.

Those already familiar with the artist will likely buy this album on sight.  As with prior productions, Ice is fully orchestrated in a non-linear manner.  Strings, flute and piano swirl about the speakers as the guitar holds court; and all the while, the wild, untamable beats.  Once the composer and lead guitarist of post-rock band yodaka, Daisuke has gone on to even greater fame as a solo artist.  His signature series, Program Music, has produced three installments, the most recent a single track, 51-minute opus. Hints of that piece, “sons,” can be found in Ice‘s 21-minute centerpiece “EBV.”  The beauty of these compositions is that they are so dense and complex that they beg for repeated listens; even after multiple plays, new comprehensions coalesce.

The album begins with the sound of melting ice, a possible nod to climate change or simply an establishment of a theme.  Cello, violin, viola and piano create a safe space for piana, who sings wordlessly and steadily, even when the snares and rapid-fire electronics kick in.  The strings pick up her voice and carry the melody forward into a thicket of static charges and pulses.  The artist has never scored a film, but every one of his albums sounds like a sci-fi soundtrack.  Consider for example the minor key melody of the title track, which leads to a major key explosion.  After this comes a swift piano excursion, some steady drums, the return of the strings and the triumphant entrance of the flute – all in the first two minutes of a ten minute track.  In the center, the piece, which has already threatened to burst its boundaries, falls into near-silence, provoking sudden intimacy, a deepening of emotion.  After the build, organic and electronic drums duet, the piano falls into a frenzy and the melody is seared into the listener’s head.  As one thinks the piece has reached its highest level, piana returns and “Ice” soars into the stratosphere, followed by a slow, beautiful melt.  And we haven’t even gotten to “EBV.”

Classic post-rock albums usually included at least one track that tops eight minutes, but “EBV” nearly triples that amount.  At the same time, the piece imitates a large movement in a grand symphony.  The piece is extremely patient, allowing space to develop and grow; in the opening minutes, the timbre is purely that of modern composition.  Five minutes in, a touch of poetry on the subject of dreams and distortion is followed first by a surprising segment of soft rock, then stuttered, A.I.-like voices: the door to the wonderland.  Drum ‘n’ bass rhythms emerge for a brief period, then retreat; banks of guitars take their place.  The track barely half over when the tide recedes to reveal another pensive passage.  The only predictable aspect of Daisuke’s music is its consistent unpredictability.

The next five tracks combined are only a minute longer than the third, but after “EBV” reaches its massive crescendos, there is zero chance any post-rock fan will be less than satiated.  Fortunately, and amazingly, there’s no drop in quality.  From the palate-cleansing piano of “hypocrisy” and the lovely, lyrical “skyliner in the Abyss” to the music box melody of “Myosotis” (a pretty blue flower that symbolizes true love and respect), the music occupies a smaller scale. Even when the closing “camaria” raises the pulse, it does so gradually, not trying to compete with “EBV” but providing a gentle contrast.  KASHIWA’s ability to alternate restraint and release results in yet another classic album in an outstanding discography: a quarter-century of brilliance that we hope will continue for another quarter century or even more.  (Richard Allen)