Kazumoto Endo & Kazuma Kubota – Gyoen Bedieningshendel

I’ve often wondered why I find it difficult to find a sort of euphoric enjoyment in the majority of harsh noise recordings despite my appreciation of the genre’s abrasive aesthetic. Yes, I do understand the spirit behind these creations, but it usually takes me a lot of time to connect with them. I can hardly follow what’s going on even after arriving at that point. Usually it’s the chaos that overcomes me, and my brain seems to become more Defensive than alert. Perhaps I’m approaching it wrong or missing the whole point of noise when listening, but when it’s a recording you are supposed to sit and listen to at home, how hard could it be?

Kazumoto Endo and Kazuma Kubota’s latest collaborative 7” on Dead Mind Records has managed to define exactly why I feel this way. It’s as simple as the fact that noise artists often tend to neglect the power of silence, unexpected transitions, space, and dynamics. These elements often bring more to a genre of art that is supposed to be exactly that—an eclectic edge that launches you, screaming, far out of your comfort zone. As any fan of dark ambient music will tell you, when silence is used appropriately, it also has the ability to induce a legitimate sense of Fear, and 2013’s Gyoen Bedieningshendel has this to offer In Spades despite the album cover. In the spasmodic ten-minute world of their collaborative 7”, both artists manage to expose you to an extreme-noise collage that drains your energy in the space of a breath.

Not a single second passes without you being attacked by brutally deformed frequencies that range from glitched sounds and piercing feedback to low aggressive accents. These elements are sliced savagely and arranged quite well (actually, Performed would be a more fitting word here as I suspect this record was recorded as a work of improvisation). Gyoen Bedieningshendel is like the harshest IDM track you’ve ever heard. And that silence that I mentioned earlier? That silence is A Weapon here. It doesn’t give your ears a break—a desired pause where you can rest and process what just happened. This silence is your worst audial enemy; it leaves you alone, unprotected with your face towards Endo and Kubota’s heavy sonic infiltration. I love that it’s no easy job to sense any semblance of gradation here. There is no start and no end—just a sick and heavy-to-endure puzzle of deformed sound-waves.

Ear-bleed guaranteed, how can you say no?

(Heathen Harvest)