Yonin Bayashi
Live '73

Oddities of Rock. Probably few in the West would have bet a penny on the success of these four Japanese musicians ("yonin bayashi" actually means "the four musicians"). Success (and notoriety) did arrive, yes, but by the time they did, at the end of the '70s, they were playing the last cards of a career that had long since consecrated them in their homeland to the status of legends. Records like "Printed Jelly" and especially "Bao" (perhaps the album with the best cover in all of Japanese Rock) are now widely known abroad as well; records that critics in our parts have labeled as "progressive," but if they are progressive, they are so in a definitely different sense from the more common, more Anglo-centric one; moments of wide-ranging breath, sure, but far too few to venture a comparison with the symphonic Prog from across the Channel; sporadic bursts of vaguely "Mediterranean" melody, but not enough to make one think they are facing the "PFM of the Land of the Rising Sun"; and above all a guitar, THAT guitar, the guitar of Katsutoshi Morizono, which was a primordial roar, capable of unstoppable power and roughness without ever descending into the clichés of the most predictable Hard.

No, one must be very careful when using the category "Progressive" with the Bayashi, especially if delving into their discography one returns to listen to what is perhaps the best (certainly the most straightforward) live album they produced. The year is 1973, but the album was only released five years later: a strategic move by the record executives, determined to capitalize on the recent success of the band by putting on the market a document (still very rare today) that tells of a stylistic phase very different from what Morizono and company had recently traversed; here there is no trace of Prog, and those who were hoping to find some would certainly be disappointed. 

It is a strong, determined, direct album. Raw, rough, corrosive, "acid" more than ever. Vibrant from the first to the last minute. Not far removed, in content, from the great works of the Californian Jam masters. And akin, in spirit, to the spontaneity of the contemporary German Kraut-Rockers, as well as the "cosmic" excursions of Ufo and Hawkwind. Brutal, aggressive, and at times distorted music, "music for the body," more than for the mind. Liberating music, a child of instinct, genuinely Rock but with a marked preference for long instrumental passages, almost entirely the domain of the leader's guitar (the organist Hidemi Sakashita's contributions are much less frequent). A record that amazes and ignites with the vehemence of a bootleg (as the recording quality, as you can imagine, is certainly not excellent), a record that speaks to the Japanese freak audience, to the over-the-top bikers reminiscent of those seen in old Nikkatsu films (cinephiles will understand), more than to "intellectuals" upset by dirty sounds. A record to put on when one feels like the most genuine Rock but doesn't want to swallow the usual reheated American stew and is looking for something more, halfway between the Grateful Dead and the "Kosmische" but without expecting excessive finesse in terms of arrangements. Because here there is no room for frills, you go straight to the substance, there is the enthusiasm of a young group in total empathy with the audience and intent on tracing boundless paths of instrumental creativity. A few chords (even one or two, perhaps) are the vehicle to the infinite, according to the lesson of the "Master" Jerry, from simple harmonic frameworks springs the magic of the great Jam, which I happen to love to write with a capital "J".

And anyway, don't be discouraged by fearing that you'll deal with long tirades of guitar virtuosity; the group knows well when to vary and especially when to introduce key changes that give these long four pieces the semblance, albeit whimsical, of logically thought-out and conceived songs. Songs, yes, because there is also Morizono's voice, though uncertain, sometimes attenuated by the beastly force of the music. Lyrics in Japanese, naturally: no ye-ye or banal imitations of English groups; here they take pride in their own—extraordinarily melodious—language (a lesson for many Italians of the period, for example). "Omatsuri" ("the festival") starts quietly in the manner of Pink Floyd's "Ummagumma", then it ignites in the second part and unleashes a storm of sounds (dominated by hard organ and guitar). The second composition follows the same path, but there is room for a calmer central interlude; a mention for the long title, "Soratobu Enban ni Otouto ga Nottayo", which literally means "my little brother boarded a flying saucer" (yes, the drugs were circulating, and heavily). The B-side kicks off with a lively "Nakamura-kun no Tukutta Kyoku", or "Mr. Nakamura's song": pure and joyful Rock'n'Roll, without many pleasantries, as taught by the Stones and Faces. But the flight resumes in the closing with the monumental "Issyoku-Sokuhatsu" ("the sudden explosion of the trigger"): an atonal first part with a powerful, twisting guitar, a verse solemnly sung almost in silence, and then the instruments flood into an unstoppable ride (at first listening, it brought to mind Blue Oyster Cult's "Astronomy").

Hop on the first flying saucer too, just like Morizono's little brother, and enjoy.