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E HATEUHIT Yamatsuka Eye's artwork for the Eat Srrit ,Vorbe ,ttusrc cassette (cilca 1988)

It was exactlythe sort of thingthat 15 year olds aren't musicianship,fidelity, funkiness, lyrical content, closerto the middle.They weren't well known,but at grew supposedto hear: Eat Shit NoiseMusic. Late night rhythmicprowess, historical relevance, etc had no least those cats had decentdistribution! | collegeradio had introducedme to Japan'svirtuoso businesshere. This was stuff so uglyonly a motheror curious.What other soundslived in the undergrowth, bassand drumsduo, Ruins, and my questfor material close relativecould love it, and thus I quicklyfound off the map,in placesyou needan obscurecatalogue by the groupwas sendingme down increasingly myselfin the family. to locate? unusualpaths. Eat Shlt was my best lead- a bootleg Forthis was the first musicthat I could reallycall my With its no-fiXerox artwork and poorlytyped tracklist, cassetteof Japanesegroups compiled by RRRecords, own. Reachingliterally across the globe,the most Eat Shlt was a refreshingreminder that you didn't and availablevia theirmail order catalogue. Ruins unmarketablesounds had locatedthe rightears and need moneyto make musicor get it heard."All song wereon the tracklistand the pricewas cheap. transmutedinto personaltreasure. Nobody was telling [sic] swipedfrom existingphonograph records, used The cassettearrived suspiciously fast, just two days me howto listen or what to listenfor. I had discovered withoutpermission," the liner notes boasted.Of after I'd postedmy cheque.I tore openthe package, it unaidedby recommendation,radio play or a course,nobody minded this bootlegger.RRRecords armedmy tape deck, and crankedthe volume.What I journalist'sreview. Eat Shit slippedinto my systemlike was makingextremely hard to find materialslightly heardbecame my personalground zero. Dynamic, a carjacker,and the shockwas total. My responsewas less hardto find. This is the purestform of lasciviousviolence poured from the speakers,courtesi to make it mine- to approachthe musicon its own bootlegging- nothingto do with piratedmajor label of YamatsukaEye's pre-Boredoms outfit, Hanatarash. terms whilefashioning my own yardstickfor its releasesor the tacky sheenof bastardpop mixes.On Simultaneouslyatrocious and amazing,the sounds enjoyment.Under noise's surface outrage lay a gambit the contrary,RRR's unauthorised compilation had defiedme not to like them, yet somehowI did, turned for freedom. much more in commonwith bootlegmoonshiners, on by flashesof anarchicjoy amid the audiofallout. I The RRRcassette was polarising,but it was also randomdrunks and libertarianswho brew high-proof think I may haveblushed. lt wasn't that Hanatarash personaland fragile;and I had the sense that if I firewaterin jerry+iggedbasement stills. werethrowing music rulebooksin the trash - that didn't listen closely,it might pass unnoticed.I knew I wouldlater realisethat I'd stumbledacross the wouldhave been relativelysimple, or at least nothingabout these groups,but it was obviousthat an exoerimentalcassette circuit that flourishedin the recognisable.No, their openingtrack soundedlike individualwith photocopieraccess and a dual cassette 1980s and early90s. Priorto the Internet,grassroots rabidforces tearing down a house,or attemptingto deck could make a substantialdifference in their noiseculture was internationalby necessity- there buildone with crackedpower tools and constantly world.This scene had a tangiblescale. lt stoodwithin simplyweren't enough fans in anyone place.And so it splinteringlumber. Somebody had a heavythumb on grasp,which suggested that I could activelyparticipate was heldtogether by slow postalservices and the pausebutton, for the songwould periodically in music- any music,especially the weird stuff - scrawledaddresses, mail ordercatalogues and tiny shudder,accelerate or drop out entirely.Not eventhe ratherthan remaina well-informedconsumer. Precisely labelsand kidsswapping tapes. A goodzine was gold. mic was exemDtfrom abuse.Intermittent howls from the sort of thing a resourcefulkid in New England's Just recentlyI had the privilegeof performingin Eyeaccompanied the bedlam.My teen mindmelted. whitewashedcultural landscape needs to hear. Osaka,hometown to Hanatarashand generally I listenedto Eat Shitover and over,extracting more And Ruins?lmpressively, their rock histrionicsheld regardedas Japan'scentre for both noise and comedy. meaningfulsignals from that noisethan an optimistic up againstHanatarash's ingeniously bent ineptitude. An Australianexpatriate outlined Osaka's noise scene chaostheorist would have thought possible. Other Eat Shitalso featuredrelentlessly derailing anarcho- for me. "lt doesn'treally exist anymore," he lamented. materialon the comp was informedby a rampaging punkfrom YamatsukaEye's other group, Boredoms; "There'sjust this thingcalled 'scum noise', where beat or sludge-filledguitars, always underneath Grim'sIndustrial primitivism; and the singularly amphetaminetypes screamand leap aroundlike mad. screams,abject electronics and/or feral distortion,but inappropriateGerogerigegege, among others. Sometimesthere'll be jam sessions,where guys Hanatarash'sthree contributionswere constructed Gerogerigegege'stunes involveda man pleasuring recordthe worst soundsthey can find and playthem from excitinglyliteral, non-musical sounds lacking himselfbetween bursts of blistering,guitar-laced over a massivesound system."lf that's what happens identiflablereferent. Somebody's hitting... something. noise:onanism as publicsport. duringa downswing,then Osaka'sstill got a special As somethingelse collapses. Titles like "FrogGirl Thecasual listener might call this musicrepellent. wretchedringing in its ears. His Japanesewife strolled 9OO00"and "My Dad ls Car" offeredlittle insight But I thoughtof its force as centrifugal,pulling us over."l enjoyedyour set," she said with an open beyond'English as a secondlanguage' allusions to towardsuncharted perimeters and awayfrom any smile,"especially the noise." mechanisedand mutatedhumans. stabilisingcentre. Contrast this with the manygenres Noiseappreciated as poetrybecomes music. Foreign Crypticand deranged,yes. But also strikingly comfortinglystifled by subculturalmores dictating languageslearnt grow familiar. Allegedly exotic sounds earnest.The anarchic,excrement-fixated music acceotablemusical conduct. understoodon their own terms - whetherit's Nass El spawneda strangelydemotic threshold for its Hittingthese extremitiesat such a youngage meant Ghiwane'sepoch-making Moroccan chaabi or enjoyment:you eitherlike this shit or you don't - there that everythingelse in my recordcollection - Mission Hanatarash'scalamity waltz - can reemergeas soul, isn't much roomfor debate.lssues of quality, Of Burma,Detroit Techno, Pere Ubu - got nudgeda bit and set up campinside yours. n 106THE WIRE