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...but let's continue, if possible, the extremely interesting discussion prompted by one of my comments on Nirvana and "Nevermind". Polemical spirit, even in this case...? The usual, predictable rant against Cobain & his associates, perhaps bolstered by another exhausting "track by track"...? Absolutely not. However, what struck me was the reason for the "generational relevance of music," the fact that - without resorting to shallow sociology - a single album can, unintentionally, become the symbol of an entire generation. Let's be clear about this, MY generation didn't have a "Nevermind" and still doesn't; yes, it had albums to identify with, albums that spurred many (myself included) to pick up an instrument, even if only for a - pathetic, ridiculous - spirit of emulation. But phenomena of that magnitude, 20 years on, haven't been seen. On the other hand, if I'm to be completely honest, my judgment of my generation (and its way of consuming music) isn't positive: the compulsive download syndrome allows us to have everything and listen to nothing, the inability of today's youth to "listen" to music - more than just "hearing it absentmindedly, in between things" - is a globally significant fact. And it's pointless to argue about this.
But, having said that: are we really sure that the "social" function of music is definitively extinct? Even if we can't find something comparable to the influence of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" on the youth imagination (bad influence...? It's not for me to say), there are entire universes that are talked about too little. Not that they are not talked about at all, after all it would be impossible given the abundance of spaces dedicated to music of all kinds. However, we bask in the eternal nostalgia of the past, always saying "eh but back then it was a whole different thing", there's the arrogant smugness of those who say "back then we changed the world with music, what the hell are you changing now, you slackers?", and in fact, no progress is made. We enter a vicious circle and don't get out.
At this point, I, with the arrogance of my 24 years but without envy towards anyone - because I was born in '87 and nothing will change that fact - say that today, I wouldn't do anything with a "Nevermind"; I wouldn't even ask for joint ownership of a "Nevermind" from those who came before me. Because a few bands that emerged from the late '90s onwards are enough for me (and more than enough, so as not to flush the music of "my times" down the toilet); I don't know if they are bands capable of making a gut-wrenching impact, of "coming in and tearing everything apart" (how delightful is certain "Rolling Stone" language, what can I say), of inspiring a hypothetical Generation Y, X to the second power, or X squared, or whatever you'd like to call it; but they are bands that are writing a story (not just THEIR story), even if away from MTV, even if without the internet and the specialized press we would never have heard of them.
The Japanese Mothers are one of those groups: if you need a band (but which band...? "Collective" is a more accurate term, though still incomplete) capable of evoking the total freedom of the Dead, post-Hendrix revolution guitar work in all its forms and appearances, the healthy, merry craftsmanship of the best Kraut, they are the ones you absolutely need to listen to. Because it's not about nostalgia, it's not revival, it's not about reassembling a deflated and lifeless puppet; theirs is not the clumsy attempt to freeze decrepit archetypes from the "sixties" and "seventies"; it's an affirmation, a powerful declaration of total creative anarchy, it's a non-project made up of many projects and infinite stylistic-musical branches, a large, numerous FAMILY revolving around Atsushi Tsuyama and, above all, the thinking brain of Makoto Kawabata: guitarist-lost addict-visionary musician, all in equal measure. "Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso UFO", "Acid Mothers Gong" (complete with the "resurrection" of Daevid Allen and Gilli Smyth, naturally), "The Mothers Of Invasion" (too obvious a reference to be explained), "Pink Ladies Blues", "Cosmic Inferno" are just some of the many incarnations of this shapeless entity (messy and endless discography, but that's part of the game - eh).
Without pretensions of completeness, and without that informative detail you can find elsewhere (it will be a joy to lose oneself among such abundance of records), I present to you here this bizarre Germany-Japan encounter that took place in 2007, with the bassist and guitarist of the Mothers joined - sure you can say it - by a piece of history: Mani Neumaier, the drummer of Guru Guru. In this hour of "interstellar" music one can hear - and see, given the overwhelming evocative power of the record - all sorts of things. A luxury rework (the moody and never forgotten "Bo Diddley" with the weighty lift from the Gurus' "Hinten"), ten minutes of corrosive guitar and bass contortions ("Stonerrock Socks"), an endless "Bayangobi" where there is everything to enjoy (cosmic moments, guitar jams, totally random drum solos, a final Buddhist monastery chant that weaves between bass and cymbals to daze you); the two minutes of "For Bunka San," a "little symphony of fooling around" for various noises, and the most uncertain "navigation" of a title track that goes from Gong to Hendrix crossing vast territories (Tsuyama on flute in opening is unmissable).
To all the gentlemen born in the '80s (after '85, perhaps): even the music of "our" years has something to say (much more than just something).
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