Acid Mothers Temple and the Melting Paraiso UFO: Have You Seen the Other Side of the Sky?

Acid Mothers Temple and the Melting Paraiso UFO
Have You Seen the Other Side of the Sky?
Ace Fu
2006-06-13

For anyone who’s followed the blazing progress of Makoto Kawabata’s Acid Mothers Temple collective since the murky days of the end of the 20th century, this has got to be an exciting release. After a year-long hiatus, filled with various outings from newer sonic offshoots, this marks the return of the original and best-loved incarnation of Japan’s premier, many-headed, psychedelic family: Acid Mothers Temple and the Melting Paraiso UFO — the same group that first burst onto the international underground in 1997, opening ears and minds with their stupendous self-titled release before going on to release a string of seemingly unstoppable lysergic masterpieces in the following seven years.

Except it isn’t quite the same band. Following the departure of diminutive, heavy-lidded synthesizer genius and vocalist Cotton Casino in 2004, the Melting Paraiso UFO has cast around for a stable line-up to match that early outfit — at various times calling in other vocalists like Afrirampo’s lunatic-savants Oni and Pika and a host of other stalwarts from the Japanese experimental underground. Here, at last, we’re led to believe, is that band, boasting a new female vocalist, Nao, and various former members of underground institutions like the Boredoms, Ghost, and even Gong.

Sure, it’s great to see one of the world’s finest purveyors of cosmic avant-rock returning to the fray and yet… and yet something seems not quite right. With some 25 albums released so far, seemingly flung out at random on whatever back-room record label will take them, it’s long been noted that AMT could perhaps do with a little more quality control. This release seems to bring that issue glaringly to the fore. This is almost a great AMT album — but it’s one that keeps on tripping itself up with sloppy self-indulgence and irritating in-jokes. In the end, one can’t help getting slightly annoyed that, instead of being the return to form we’ve been waiting for, it reeks of unfulfilled potential.

Things start promisingly enough with the opening track, “Attack from Planet Hattifatteners”: a full minute-and-a-half of luxuriant, stereo-panning synth vibrations gives way to an over-driven, bass-heavy rock freak-out, with flute reminiscent of ’70s Dutch prog-titans Focus, and more twittering synths, before dissolving into a melange of tinkling bells, gibbering ‘comb and paper’ vocals and even more synths. It’s a fine statement of intent, capturing AMT at perhaps their most avant-garde, dabbling with sonic collage and musique conrète with aplomb.

All of which makes it even more disappointing when the second track, “Buy the Moon of Jupiter”, kicks in. It’s a pretty enough cosmic folk ballad, but take away the multi-layered ephemeral synths and it’s actually a fairly pedestrian acoustic guitar riff, backing long-time bassist Tsuyama Atsushi’s uninspired and oddly irritating vocal warblings — a far-cry from the gently wafting ‘tea ceremony in the temple’ acoustic interludes that litter AMT’s most otherworldly albums.

It’s a shortcoming that’s even more apparent in the 15-minute “Asimo’s Naked Breakfast: Rice and Shine”, which begins well with a gorgeous, finger-picked, descending acoustic guitar riff, deep and velvety swathes of synth, and half-buried fuzz-guitar — only to be utterly destroyed by bizarre ‘drunken karaoke’ vocals. Kawabata’s musical offerings have always had an element of ironic, tongue-in-cheek pop-culture referencing to them — not least his primal-rock-jukebox duo Zoffy, which revels in playing ‘bad’ acoustic versions of classic rock songs such as “Smoke on the Water”. But it’s hard to see what he’s trying to achieve when the band tunelessly intones “Welcome to the Hotel California” en masse. Frankly, as a joke it falls painfully flat. But just when you’re considering the idea of giving up, the second half of the track suddenly blossoms into pure, cosmic bliss with plucked acoustic guitar, hyper-space synths, monk-like chants and mellifluous flute conjuring up Peter Gabriel-era Genesis. It’s also here that vocalist Nao — credited with “erotic voice and astral easy virtue” — chimes in with yelps, sighs, and moans that fit right into Kawabata’s seemingly endless fascination with vintage soft porn — as evidence by a clutch of dicey album covers and culminating in 2000’s soundtrack to the long-lost Russian action-skin-flick Wild Gal’s A-Go-Go.

Perhaps more than any other track on the album, this seems to personify exactly where AMT are coming from right now: forcing us to sit through an exaggeratedly infuriating jumble of sub-standard meanderings before rewarding us with seven minutes of pure transcendence. However, for the real meat of the album, fast forward to the customary 30-minute closing epic: “The Tales of Solar Sail – Dark Stars in the Dazzling Sky”.

All the ingredients are there for a classic AMT blow-out, following Makoto Kawabata’s not-so-secret recipe.

1) Take an extended tambura drone and pepper with oriental flute for five minutes.

2) Once ready, introduce ‘The Riff’ — your latest attempt to find the Ur-power-chords that will unlock the heavens and release cosmic understanding for all mankind.

3) After five more minutes, unleash the guitar solo. This is your opportunity to polish your rock-god credentials, so don’t spare the super-feedback gross-out schtick. Be sure to keep the solo tucked away slightly lower than expected in the levels — remember, it’s about the overall vibe, not the notes you’re playing.

4) After another five minutes it’s time to turn up the heat: bring in the heavy bass-riff, up-tempo drum assault, and dissonant alto-sax skronk. Freak out as chaos ensues.

5) Wait five more minutes, then bring the mixture to a screaming crescendo before simmering back down to an exhausted restatement of the original funereal riff, seasoned with flute and monastery chants.

6) Garnish with the final guitar solo, this time with a bluesy tang and lashings of synth.

7) Sprinkle with the closing acoustic guitar coda. Leave to stand.

There’s a serious point here. This is predictable, by-the-numbers Acid Mothers Temple. In and of itself it can still be highly enjoyable, but surely we’ve come to demand and expect so much more from this waywardly brilliant collective of lunatics, visionaries, and jokers. It’s time to stop messing around Mr. Kawabata. Won’t you please come back and blow our minds again?

RATING 5 / 10