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Rating:
When you least expect it....
It was only by chance that I listened to this band from Michigan, but with a Greek name meaning to regenerate/rebirth, currently composed of 7 members (which increase during live performances) and so I unexpectedly found myself immersed in their 'Floating World', rich not only in sweet and serene atmospheres, but above all in passion, energy, sounds.
14 tracks often connected to each other, in what is a concept album started in 2003, on one of the most complex and essential parts of Japanese thought: the "floating world" (which for them represents not only history and art, but also a way of life, a kind of limbo, a lifejacket to protect against pain and melancholy), whose enigmatic sounds border on remarkable orchestral power, as well as an inner strength that only great songwriting can have, where the mind might also run towards Sufjan Stevens, Múm, and Architecture In Helsinki.
Anathallo might seem pretentious, but instead, I believe they have courage to spare and are perfectly aware of their skill: otherwise, a project like this, so full of difficulties, wouldn't be explained. The perfect example comes from "Hanasakajijii (part I-IV)": a suite divided into four parts, about the story of a dog searching for gold for its master, with extremely incisive and varied emotional pop. But how could we not also mention the melody built on the little bells of "Dokkoise House (with face covered)", the fluctuating rhythm of "Hoodwink", the sweet tribality of "Kasa no Hone (the umbrella's bones)", the dreamy "The Bruised Reed", the involvement that grabs you while listening to "By Number".
Power and fragility blend in the "floating world" of Anathallo, who have created magnificent disordered sound explosions of not easy immediacy, constantly accompanied by the emotional voice of Matt Joynt, the rhythmic choruses of the other members (including one female), their hand claps, and absolutely captivating trumpets and clarinets.
Great surprise.
Regards, Addison.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Genessaret: Going Out Over 30,000 Fathoms of Water (05:32)
We looked hard;
I stood on the bottom.
Calloused tiptoes,
Splintering wood,
Waterlogging.
Break up, come back together. Genessaret.
I want to skip like a stone from a stronger arm.
Each one I throw is moving somewhere.
Oh, let me go.
I will go out, out, out, out
Past these yellow ropes.
I am not afraid.
They sway there like
The shredded ones hung
From my parents' tree
Where I pumped my legs
And I broke into sweat.
I never saw my face
In the bird bath mirror,
Red as blood
And I was tired.
For a minute short, there was a wonder.
A sense after the momentary weird blur,
In the space of expectancy
When you wake,
When you open your eyes.
When you expect to see the same thing that
You've seen. First, the ceiling:
Grey from great oak.
Grey from great oak.
He'd thrown his net over us.
(Stringy hands, stained glass)
And all his sounds, the same today.
But my body changed.
Something in the salty sheets
Was pressing in on me.
Stuck and stinging, I keep rolling.
03 Hoodwink (05:48)
"So nevermind,...
Someday they will build monuments for us" - Adolf Eichmann (planner of the Nazi gas chambers)
People like me walk out the door, we'll pull you out into the streets of far off countries. If I'm ready to go, how could I let you dwell in delight?
So you see, all things are so bright and spiritual. These seeds are growing in extraordinary colors. Convinced? Even I believe that I have grown something, it's cased in light.
Don't worry about me, I'm gone. Don't worry about me, I'm off in a distant place where I can be the signifier, not that which is signified, the referent, convincing us (you and me both), for you my smile is like "bow, bow, bow, bow".
Out here there is no "under the skin", and the form of every other is hidden under covers. So let us sleep in ease of dark.
We couldn't rest, with this aweful sense of duty hanging off of our chests. Peeled away. We had to get back to where the grip of our own hands could lift us from the failures in the eyes of men, to form our scales and weigh our works, good again.
04 By Number (05:08)
One: become the widowed son.
Them, to me, "Out of sight, out of mind."
Someone said that to me and I smiled.
Two: Listen as he sings through you.
Three: Close your eyes and feel alive.
Did you really feel it in his side?
No, it's just like him, but it's not him.
Without the beating, this feeling is guaranteed.
Oh, and I hide my face in the shade.
When I find my old place in the shade.
And I hide.
Anata wa mae kara
Ushiro kara,
Watashi o tori kakomi,
Mi te o watashi no ue ni
O kare mashita.
09 Hanasakajijii Two: Floating World (04:57)
I lay still in the fire.
Oh, the grass. Burn in bed.
Blackened ash.
A cold sound rustled in the trees
Pulling limbs.
The smoke rose. The smoke rose.
It'd come to make a mess of things
And throw a storm of burnt flakes,
Lifting to the air the floating world,
To let them go silent into the ground
Where all things make work of coming back.
I lay in the ground, wait, lonely for you.
My hair grows, nails grow out
And I count them as they go
One, two, three, four, five, six
Break into air.
Set themselves between the blades of grass,
So let your bare feet bleed.
10 The Bruised Reed (06:04)
Are you a bruised reed?
A smoldering flax?
Are you a broken branch?
Oh, and do you love it?
Do you love to forget like I do?
One will sift as wheat,
But one has come with robes.
One will slice your ankle.
Love, love, love.
There are these sharp gold knives
In this space meant for affections,
Where the pink skin baby once belonged.
When I speak, "I cough them out,
Gather them up in my arms,
And swallow them back down.
13 Cuckoo Spitting Blood (03:05)
Oh, night set on when I fell down
In the corner of the field.
Cuckoo, I too sang,
Spit the blood of welling thougohts.
Waking with a hundred grains.
Salt stains ringing 'round my legs.
I could not face you.
Since I don't know my father,
I won't be a son.
In morning when words rise up
Like the echo of a stone axe,
Some demon in me wants to rise up
And walk away.
When I am alone in the day.
At night when I am going without clothes
I see your knees where I would sit,
The purple chair,
Golden trim hedged 'round.
I hid myself underneath my father
With the robes of a son.
In the morning when words rose up
Like the echo of a stone axe.
Some demon in me crawled out
And ran away.
I remember when I took the gifts
Asking you for everything,
Throw your name in the well.
I sink, and sink.
Sink.
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