DJ Krush
Strictly Turntablized

A few months after the excellent Krush, DJ and producer Hideaki Nishi, better known as DJ Krush, releases his second work, Strictly Turntablized, published in November 1994 by the glorious Mo’ Wax, an English label that became, over the course of the 1990s, a true point of reference for those trying to spread alternative hip-hop, far from the stereotypes of the genre.

The cover, created by street artist Futura 2000, immediately captures attention, capable of evoking abstract and mental landscapes that perfectly reflect the content of the album. The latter stands out for a substantial change of pace compared to the debut: while in Krush the mix of female voices, jazz, and 4/4 was interesting yet a bit unripe, now the recipe is different, and we are faced with eleven completely instrumental tracks characterized by a more minimal and reflective sound.

The initial “Intro” immediately sets things clear: rough and "dirty" drums support hypnotic loops, ingredients that we find in the subsequent “Lunation”, where a piano overlays echoes and precise scratches by Krush. The reverberated snares and distant voices of “Fucked-Up Pendulum” contribute to creating a supernatural setting, like a séance, while “Kemuri” and “Silent Ungah (Too Much Pain)” are two suggestive and mysterious tracks (the second projects us directly into a zen meditation session).

A track like “Dig This Vibe” constitutes one of the few relaxed moments in Strictly Turntablized, thanks to a vibraphone that gently cradles our overexposed senses. The truce doesn’t last long, and soon we are hit by “Yeah”, with its array of heavy drums, brass, and vocal samples, and the enchantment of “The Loop” and “To the Infinity”, two compositions that, besides reducing the sounds to the bone, emphasize the concepts of repetition and cyclicality, almost as if wanting to suspend every linear conception of time.

The conclusion is as disorienting as ever and is entrusted to “The Nightmare of Ungah (Sandro in Effect)”, a sort of reprise of the previous “Silent Ungah (Too Much Pain)” with added screams, vocal scratches, and other rather disturbing elements.

At the end of the listening, we might feel disoriented, as if we had awakened from a long slumber. And from more than one front, criticisms might arise. For some, for example, Meiso, Milight, or Kakusei are the true masterpieces of the Japanese musician; for others, however, turntablism and the manipulation of vinyl do not play that fundamental role promised by the title. Legitimate objections. Nevertheless, Strictly Turntablized remains a solid and no-frills album, which, while choosing the path of experimentation, does not renounce that concreteness and street approach typical of the best hip-hop.

And for this, we are surely grateful.

DeRecensore Rating: 4.5