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Rating: Freshly arrived from Japan. It cost me 100 "sacchi" of the old lire, and I got lucky. After a decade of persistent wooing, the CD is finally in my hands. The film is also there, recorded on a VHS one night in the '90s from RaiTre, with Italian subtitles.
From the perfect music-image harmony of the two Tetsuo, Tsukamoto-Ishikawa continue their metallic-gelatinous savagery. Aided by the intervention of the company eating ramen at four in the morning cooked on "the iron grill" and consumed on a Kawasaki 1200 in alien puke green, racing through solstices and equinoxes among the artificial moons of Shinjuku, CHU (peace to his soul) perfects his flesh-metal vision by crafting a soundtrack with 10-kilo hammers that pairs with the previous clattering delirium "Megatron".
The fiction justification of cyberpunkism in the absurd and frantic metallic "adventures" of Tomoroh Taguchi shields against reality, but instead on this Tokyo Fist, it leaves you naked because it returns heavily "in the flesh." There was no hope in the "Tetsuo" and therefore the blatant demonstration of this struck you but did not leave psychic traces because it was as if one moved through already lived nuclear explosions. But the declared utopia of hope in "Tokyo Fist" triggers an anxiety that has no form of cure because one is unable to find any solution where the situations, however absurd, seem real and, involved, you share them carnally.
And the music captures all the emotional precipitations, reiterating that you can't live with life. Let us be flooded by the frantic muscular labyrinths that Ishikawa ruthlessly unravels, an industrial post-nuclear massacre performed with a toothpick at the side of the mouth and so much chaos present even in those seemingly "calm" pieces. Der Eisenrost contribute magnificently to the radioactive drift, in this case, of human tissues. A real mess this record, a "nice" pleasure, so to speak.
Let's take this punch in the face, for our own good... Go!
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