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kaiijo · 6 months ago

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DATES WITH HIM — [WIND BREAKER]

characters: suo hayato, kiryu mitsuki, umemiya hajime, hiragi toma, kaji ren, togame jo content: gn! reader notes: i did not come up with the date idea in suo's! also i recommend reading the mentioned works in suo’s part and listening to the song in kaji’s! obvious togame bias i’m sorry (but i’m also not)

suo hayato ✶ bookstore date

you saw the idea of a bookstore scavenger hunt date and it was too cute to resist. with your list in hand, you and suo make your way to your favorite neighborhood bookstore. the old lady who runs it greets the two of you before attending to other customers. suo leans over your shoulder to look at the first item. “find a joke to make your partner laugh.”

you make your way to the joke book shelf, where suo picks up a paperback titled 100 dad jokes to make anyone bust a side! he flips through it and lands on a page. “which days are the strongest?”

“i don’t know, which ones?”

he stares at you dead in the eye as he answers, “saturday and sunday. the rest are weekdays.”

you can’t help but snort and roll your eyes, and suo says, “we’re counting that!” and you check it off the list because you don’t know if you can take another cheesy dad joke.

you read out the next bullet point: “find a puzzle to conquer together.”

you find and complete a crossword puzzle in a magazine (you kept the magazine with you to buy later). your scavenger hunt list leads you through the travel section to talk about your dream vacation spots; the children’s section where you find your favorite childhood books; and the cookbook aisle where you find a recipe you both want to cook together. finally, the last task challenges you to find a poem that describes your partner.

you and suo split up in the poetry section for that. you thumb through pages and pages but nothing is able to capture just how you feel for suo. you find one finally just as he walks over to you, a poetry anthology in hand. you read to him kevin varrone’s “poem i wrote sitting across the table from you” and he recites joy harjo’s poem “for keeps.”

your heart feels like its about to burst as he finishes and you take his hand in yours, bring it to your lips for a kiss. his gaze is soft as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

kiryu mitsuki ✶ arcade date

you pout as you watch the final pac-man score flash on the screen in big, pixelated numbers: 150 to 170. kiryu ruffles your hair affectionately. “we’re all tied up again,” he says. “two to two. what do you want for the tie-breaker?”

you peer around the arcade, glancing at the flashing screens of various games. there’s street fighter, space invaders, and other classics but it’s the air hockey table that catches your eye. you nod at it. “settle the score over good old-fashioned air hockey?”

“sounds good,” he says and you two make your way over to it.

just as you arrive, another couple shows up. “oh, shit,” the other guy says when he and his girlfriend approach at the same time.

“sorry,” you say. “you guys can have it if you want.”

“no, no, you two came first,” the girlfriend says.

“it’s seriously fine!”

“no, really, it’s cool!”

you’re all at a standstill, neither party willing to takeover the table. instead, kiryu pipes up, “there are four pushers, why don’t we play on teams? a friendly competition.”

“i’m down!” the girl smiles and turns to her boyfriend. “what do you think?”

“i say we crush ‘em!”

“ooh, those are fighting words!” you call, looping you arm through kiryu’s. “ready to kick some ass, mitsuki?”

“always.”

the competition is fierce — the other couple is a lot better than you thought and you’re playing best of seven rounds. it’s the tie breaker and you narrowly manage to block a shot from the other guy. the puck bounces off the sides, hurtling across the board towards kiryu, who easily deflects it back. the volley goes back and forth and there are far too many times it almost sinks into their goal.

the other couple just blocks a shot again and the puck is heading for you. you hit it at the right angle and it just ekes past the defense, sliding into the goal to end the game 4 to 3. you congratulate each other on a good game and kiryu sighs, “i guess that settled the score between us too, huh?”

“what do you mean?”

“you made the winning goal.” he holds out the tickets he’s won. “let’s go get you a prize.”

umemiya hajime ✶ farmer’s market date

“whoa! these squash look so good! how did you grow them? did you plant them in may or june?” umemiya’s eyes are wide and bright as he listens intently to the farmer’s answer. you don’t think you’ve seen him this excited before, which is saying a lot given his enthusiasm for almost anything.

she smiles warmly at the two of you, asking, “how many would you like?”

“three,” you reply, reaching for your wallet, but umemiya is holding out the money for her before you can even open your bag.

the farmer shakes her head, gently pushing his hand back. “it’s on the house,” she says, plucking a packet of seeds from a small wooden crate at the edge of the stall. “and i’ll throw these in too, all free of charge!”

“oh, please, we insist,” you begin to protest but she just shakes her head again.

“it’s been a long time since someone has been this curious about my produce,” she chuckles, “and i’m not about to make a lovely young couple pay for this! all i ask is that you two raise the squash lovingly.”

“we will, i promise,” umemiya says, taking the bag of squash from her. as you two continue through the farmer’s market, umemiya interlocks your fingers, using his other hand to motion to the other stalls you pass.

he says, “we have tomatoes and cucumbers already but we need mushrooms! oh, those look good!” he already leading you to another vendor, surveying the cartons of wood-ear mushrooms. you raise a brow in amusement as he buys five cartons, humming a cheery song.

“what’s all this for, again?”

he beams at you. “the summer barbeque!”

“ahh, right!” you smile. “the infamous summer barbeque.” you glance around the market, pointing out a stall selling sausages and other meats. “i think we’ll want to get some protein, then, since your boys eat enough for a hundred men.”

“babe, you’re a genius!”

hiragi toma ✶ cooking date

make dinner at home for date night, they said. it’ll be fun, they said. you think anyone who said this is a fun, stress-free date is a total liar.

“alright,” you sigh as you clean the frying pan of egg residue for the third time. “well, fourth time’s a charm!”

hiragi pops a stomach tablet out of its packaging and chomps down on it. “you said that the last two times.”

“this one’s going to be the one!” you chirp, reaching for the egg carton. “it has to be, since these are our last four eggs.”

hiragi lets out a long, heavy breath before slipping his apron back on. “okay, one more time.”

hiragi throws a large tablespoon of butter down the pan, tilting the pan from side to side as the melting butter coats the surface. you crack the four eggs into the measuring cup and beat them with a whisk, tipping a little drop of it onto the butter. it sizzles promisingly and you and hiragi share a glance and nod, then you pour the eggs in.

you stir the eggs quickly with a pair of chopsticks, stopping as you see the omelet beginning to smooth. hiragi tilts the pan to let the uncooked egg mixture start to cook, doing his best to keep the curds even and level.

the new portion of eggs scramble and you spoon your chicken rice mix into the center of the omlet, roughly shaping it into an football-shape as hiragi kills the heat. “good?” you ask him, motioning with your chopsticks at the pile of rice.

“good.” he lifts the pan. “hot pan, coming through!” he places it on the damp rag on your counter. you slide the omlet to the edge of the pan, carefully wrapping the rice with egg on both sides. hiragi’s already moved to get a plate and you hold your breath as he slides it carefully onto the plate.

success.

you let out collective sighs of relief.

kaji ren ✶ concert date

you had spent hours in an online queue to get kaji tickets to see his favorite band for his birthday. luckily, the venue isn’t too long a train ride from makochi but when you severely undersold how many people can cram themselves into the venue.

kaji’s grip is firm as you weave your way through the crowd, pushing closer to the stage. some guy jostles you, grumbling under his breath, only to apologize when he faced kaji’s cold glare. your boyfriend manages to get the two of you to a decent spot near the front, just off right of the center.

“what song are you most excited for?” you ask him, speaking as close to his ear as possible. the din around you is getting louder and the crowd more electrified, so you know it’s starting soon.

“wasted nights,” he replies easily.

you hum, “that sounds familiar. it’s on the playlist you made for me, right?”

his mouth lifts into a small smile. “yeah, i think it’s number eleven or twelve.” just as he is about to add something, the lights around you begin to flash and pulse as the ambient music dies down. the band comes out to thunderous cheers as they take up their instruments.

even though you don’t know the band well, you can’t help but jump and dance with the crowd, and you sing along to parts you can remember. kaji’s not one for rowdiness himself but he thrives off the energy from it — you can see it in the way he bobs his head in rhythm, the way he seems completely in his element. as the fourth songs in the set transitions into the fifth one, a slower ballad this time, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pecks your cheek. “thank you again,” he says. “i’m glad i’m here with you.”

you burrow further into his side, swaying to the music. “happy birthday, ren.”

togame jo ✶ pottery class date

you tilt your head as the pottery wheel slows to a stop, examining the mug you were instructed to make. the rim is uneven and it’s leaning towards the left. togame’s isn’t any better given that his mug looks shorter and stouter than the rest of the class and the handle is fully too long. when the pottery teacher walks over, she offers a sweet smile. “beautiful work,” she says. “they both have a unique charm to them.”

“thanks, we totally meant to make them this way,” you say and she carefully brings them to the shelf where the other attendees’ mugs sit waiting for the kiln.

oddly enough, seeing your mugs together makes them look somewhat normal, almost like an eclectic set, and when you glance at togame, he meets your eyes and you two try to suppress your laughter, togame’s broad shoulders shaking with effort. as you stand side by side, washing your hands in the classroom’s sink, togame smirks. he reaches over and claps a hand on your shoulder, leaving a large, damp terracotta-colored handprint on your shirt.

you narrow your eyes and do the same, this time on the side of his own t-shirt. his hand touches your back and yours grazes his chest. you could probably do this forever but someone clears their throat behind you and you apologize as you actually finish cleaning up, stepping aside for another couple to wash themselves off.

togame drapes an arm around your shoulder as you leave the building, saying, “i think i won, babe.”

you know he’s talking about the stains all over both of your clothes but all you do is smirk at him. “i think i won, actually, since this is your shirt.”

he shrugs. “i wish i could be mad, but you look too good in my clothes to complain.”

bonus!

you return two weeks later when your “unique” mugs are primed for glazing. you two agreed to keep the final designs on your pottery a surprise so you sit as far away from each other with your backs turned. in the end, you two had similar ideas — he chose your favorite color as a background and painted on a pattern of your favorite flowers while you glazed your mug in orange and black with an attempt at a the lion face on the shishitoren jackets, albeit yours is way less threatening and much cuter.

your mugs sit in each of your cabinets at your homes in all their uniquely beautiful glory, your new favorites — well-used and well-loved. one day, they’ll be together again, side-by-side in a cabinet that you two shared together.

#wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #suo hayato x reader #suo x reader #kiryu mitsuki x reader #kiryu x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya x reader #hiragi toma x reader #hiragi x reader #kaji ren x reader #kaji x reader #togame jo x reader #togame x reader #wind breaker imagines #wind breaker scenarios

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dustedmagazine · 2 years ago

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Dust Volume 9, Number 3

Emergency Group

As AI takes over the creative professions, it may seem pointless for actual, struggling human beings to sit down to listen to music made by other human beings, to think about what they hear and to string together sentences about how they felt about that music and what it means. But, in a sense, Dusted has always been a bit pointless, as have many of the under-heard, under-loved musics we follow. Still, since there’s no money in it, we can’t be starved out. We may not win an us-against-the-machines battle, but there’s no reason to surrender. And so, this month, we gather our low-tech resources to consider another batch of excellent, under-the-radar releases from folk artists and metal thrashers, jazz improvisers and pop craftspeople. Contributors include Bill Meyer, Ian Mathers, Jennifer Kelly, Justin Cober-Lake, Jonathan Shaw, Tim Clarke, Bryon Hayes, Margaret Welsh and Andrew Forell—not a robot in the bunch.

Joseph Allred — What Strange Flowers In The Shade (Feeding Tube)

What Strange Flowers In The Shade by Joseph Allred

We’ll be dealing with the pandemic’s fallout for years to come, but some consequences are lined with silver. Locked up in a grad school apartment, Joseph Allred spent a lot of time getting acquainted with the less-handled items in their sizable collection of instruments. Best known as a mystical acoustic guitarist of the Takoma school and a spiritually astute singer, they also have a lengthy, if less documented, history of appreciating and performing plugged-in music. What Strange Flowers Grown In The Shade arose from Allred’s deep dive into the delights of effects pedals and a Fender Jaguar guitar. Bolstered by remote contributions by the Rolin-Powers Duo, Magic Tuber Stringband, and others, Allred set the sound-mixer for slow stir and the spotlight for the center of the resulting thick swirl. The outcome sounds a bit like Mike Cooper might if you packed him off to a cold, damp clime with nothing to play but choral recordings, and he embraced the circumstances (don’t try this at home, folks; Cooper would be more likely to embrace your neck with an asphyxiating grip if you did him such a disservice).

Bill Meyer

John Atkinson — Energy Fields (AKP Recordings)

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It may have taken John Atkinson just two weeks on a residency in Wyoming (surrounded by the sounds of coal mines, wind farms, oil refineries, and hydropower plants) to get all of the field recordings he microedited into the four tracks that make up Energy Fields, but it took him another two years to figure out how to stitch them together. In that time, his longstanding interest in both the manipulation of found/sourced sound and in climate issues haven’t exactly dated. On the industrial rumble of “Black Thunder” and the galvanizing drones of “Spiritual Electricity” you can practically see the extractive machinery Atkinson was surrounded with, whereas the record’s second half moves to a calmer, more meditative and even hopeful place. The results are evocative and sometimes troubling soundscapes deeply rooted in our current ecological moment.

Ian Mathers

Emergency Group — Inspection of Cruelty (Island House)

Inspection Of Cruelty by Emergency Group

Two side-long slabs of fusion-y free improvisation are led by long-time Dusted favorite Jonathan Byerley (Plates of Cake and Anti-Westerns), with seasoned jazz players Robert Boston and Andreas Brade in tow. WFMU DJ, writer and bassist Dave Mandl rounds out the foursome. A 1970s futuristic cool hangs over the whole enterprise, in its chugging rhythms, its radiant runs of electric keyboards, its motorific jams. You are meant to sniff out hash-scented whiffs of Silent Way into Jack Johnson-era Miles Davis (despite the lack of brass) in all this, but Return to Forever is a closer match, and maybe CAN, too. There’s an underpinning of jazz, but it wigs way the fuck out from there. I’d give the edge to urgent, driving “Part 1,” nearly half an hour long but constantly evolving, ever fascinating. “Part 2” is shorter, but not by much, but also less visceral, more of a head piece. It dozes deep into a psychedelic dream, where fairy dust keyboard notes drift down from pastel skies, sparkling all the way, and deep pulses of bass power the machinery that makes the illusion work. I’ve never loved keyboard-heavy fusion but I like this, go figure.

Jennifer Kelly

Tomas Fujiwara's Triple Double — March On (self-released)

March On by Tomas Fujiwara's Triple Double

When percussionist Tomas Fujiwara convened his odd sextet a few years ago for their second album (2020's March), he had them record some extra material intended as segues between tracks. He decided the session warranted its own album, and new digital-only release March On centers on the 30-minute titular improv. The freedom of the set should suit fans of the artists involved (including Gerald Cleaver, Mary Halvorson, Brandon Seabrook, Taylor Ho Bynum and Ralph Alessi). Each of those musicians write and perform surprising, free-sounding music, but with careful composition structuring the adventures more carefully than might be expected. “March On” puts them in full improv mode, a task that succeeds largely because they've learned to interact so well with each other in a variety of ensembles over the past decade or so.

The Triple Double structure still holds, offering surprises in one level simply by changing configurations. The band's name suggests basketball, and the group plays a never-stagnating motion offense. We move from a horn duet to a guitar battle to a drum-guitar-trumpet trio with ease. Given the crowded space, each musician stays out of the others' way while still finding moments to become a focal point. The album closes with Halvorson and Seabrook briefly partnering for “Silhouettes,” 45 seconds of weird tone an unsettling conversation. It closes the album well, hinting at more mysteries within an ongoing conversation.

Justin Cober-Lake

Full of Hell and Primitive Man — Suffocating Hallucination (Closed Casket Activities)

Suffocating Hallucination by Full of Hell & Primitive Man

A glib assessment of this collaboration between noisy grind band Full of Hell and the doomy monster that is Primitive Man might note: it’s 26 seconds of Full of Hell and 34 minutes of Primitive Man. For sure Suffocating Hallucination is dominated by the agonizing assaults of volume associated with Primitive Man’s excoriating, magma-paced music. But folks should recall just how adventurous the last few Full of Hell records have been, replete with excursions into hair-raising harsh noise and muscular hardcore. Open your ears to the textures of the record’s first two tracks (the sublimely titled “Trepanation for Future Joys” and the aptly titled “Rubble Home”) and you’ll hear both bands at work, responding to each other’s force and fury. Is that good? Depends on your appetite for unhappiness. This reviewer is compelled by the record’s final 18 minutes, in which the haunted factory sounds of “Dwindling Will” leach into the perversely magisterial “Tunnels to God.” As novelist Stephen Wright once observed, “If you can’t ascend, you might as well descend.” This music will get you there.

Jonathan Shaw

Drew Gardner — The Return (Astral Spirits)

The Return by Drew Gardner

Folks following American “don’t call it primitive” guitar music have likely noted Drew Gardner’s redoubtably picking in Elkhorn, where he handles the usually-electric, six-string side of their bases-covered attack. Most folks don’t get to sound so sure in a minute, and it turns out that Gardner is a man with a past. He has been multi-instrumentalist since the 1980s, and during the mid-1990s he was an active participant in San Francisco’s free jazz scene. Around the same time, saxophonist John Tchicai had a teaching gig in Davis CA; he retained Gardner as a drummer, and when Gardner had a chance to record at Guerilla Euphonics in 1995, he returned the favor. Also on board were Church of John Coltrane alto saxophonist Roberto de Haven and, on one track, Marco Eneidi, also on alto. Gardner and bassist Vytas Nagisetty stoke the furnace, alternating a full head of steam with more judiciously applied rumblings, and the twinned reeds give Gardner’s themes a distinctly pre-electric Ornette feel. No doubt there’s a good reason why this music didn’t come out at the time, but it wasn’t on account of the music’s quality.

Bill Meyer

Hourlope — Three Nights in the Wawayanda (self-released / Tymbal Tapes)

Three Nights in the Wawayanda by Hourloupe

Hourlope is a collaboration between Anar Badalov and Frank Menchaca, and Three Nights in the Wawayanda is the third part of an ambitious trilogy that began with Future Deserts, continued on Sleepwalker, and reaches its fantastical culmination here. Hourlope pair elusive electronic backing with Mechaca’s measured spoken word delivery, and the results are frequently beguiling. It feels like music from another time, both harking back to the origins of ambient electronica in the 1990s and reaching forward to imagine fresh new musical forms. The album’s finest moments are the more abstract, beatless pieces, such as the Fennesz-esque “Thumper,” and centerpiece “Green Navy/Rain,” a stunningly evocative two minutes in which Menchaca’s words perfectly complement the eerie atmosphere of the music.

Tim Clarke

Brett Naucke — Cast a Double Shadow (Ceremony of Seasons)

Cast A Double Shadow by Brett Naucke

Wine, beer and spirit clubs are not new, but the Asheville-based VISUALS winery is taking the concept beyond liquids with its Ritual of Senses club. It’s pairing rare, locally fermented products with components meant to delight the other senses. Packages are meant to arrive at the solstices and equinoxes and include a seasonally appropriate auditory component. Brett Naucke’s Cast a Double Shadow is included in the club’s winter solstice edition. Having spent most of his life near Chicago, the sound artist is now based in Asheville, hence his participation. Naucke blends a sonically diverse array of genetic material into a recombinant organism well-suited to survive the longest and coldest wintery night. Icy synths and brittle samples are bolstered by a lushness that carries a kernel of warmth inside of it. Bubbling arpeggios create the illusion of motion, and since a moving liquid cannot freeze, Naucke’s compositions remain lively amid the pervasive frostiness of the hibernal season. Those lucky enough to pair these ice-melting sounds with VISUALS’ liquid accompaniment will surely enjoy a synaesthetic intoxication. Imbibe responsibly, folks.

Bryon Hayes

The Natural Lines — S-T (Bella Union)

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Matt Pond may not be Matt Pond PA anymore, but he’s making the kind of clever, earnest indie rock as always, with some of the same people, notably Chris Hansen, his longtime guitarist and co-producer. This self-titled full length follows on the 2022 EP First Five, revisiting pensive, string-soothed “Spontaneous Skylights” and adding ten new warbly gems. “Monotony” feels like a COVID song, specifically a song about a musician’s experience of COVID, its clamped guitar stuttering as Pond sketches adapting to a smaller world. “When you start to think about the way you breathe, it doesn’t mean you believe in monotony,” he observes in a wavering voice that struggles to remain upbeat. But the music swells and with it, Pond finds his footing. “Climb the drums to feel the fall, stab the strings to feel anything,” he sings. Later, “A Scene That Will Never Die” turns moody introspection into bell-clear, chiming triumph. Pond’s voice is always bruised, rueful, real, but the music surges in waves of joy. If you’re still climbing out of the last couple of years, take heart. Matt Pond is, too, and he’s got a new band and an album to help.

Jennifer Kelly

No Cosmos — you iii everything else (Lighter Than Air)

You iii everything else by No Cosmos

Montrealean jazz trumpet player Scott Bevins inhabits a fluid convergence of jazz, electronics and R&B in this eight-song debut, drawing out languid, lucid melodies in brass and roughing them up with a battery of percussion from drummer Kyle Hutchins. Bright, reiterative bell-tones frame “kindergentlepatient” in Reichian pointillism, but the trumpet rings out a long-noted, clarion melody, a little echo clinging to it like a shadow, flickering underneath. “Almost Lost You,” an early single, slaps a slinky downtempo beat onto musing post-Miles cool, and floats traceries of soul vocals over its slouching groove. Less overtly accessible, but ultimately more rewarding, “0 to me to me to me,” ruptures its Rhodes-chilled serenity with continual explosions of drumming. I like it best when Bevins lets the chaos slips into his stylized precision.

Jennifer Kelly

Party of the Sun — Capsule III EP (Trailing Twelve)

Capsule III by Party of the Sun

Backwoods psychedelia springs up like mushrooms in the wilder parts of northern New England. Party of the Sun, an acid folk trio from the Monadnock Region (where yrs truly also resides), made these gently expansive tunes on a working sheep farm, following in the muck crusted footsteps of MV+EE, Sunburned and Akron/Family. Akron/Family, admittedly, hailed from New York, but the resonance is strong anyway, especially to that first slow-burning album, where the creak of rocking chairs, the rumble of thunder, seeped into translucent, transcendent melody. Here, “See Space” is all murmur-y, sunlit radiance, guitar and keyboards picking out glittering patterns under Ethan McBrien’s soft, considering tenor. “Forget Me Knot” coalesces out of a cloud of buzzing sonics, warm, widely spaced guitar chords emerging like the emerging light of morning. Harmonies swell, in a natural way, and drums thump up a climax, as the song balloons from quiet contemplation to something epic. “Smoke Bush,” with its subtle thread of female harmonies, eddies and swirls and lilts like a lost 1960s folk off-take. These tunes grow naturally out of reverie and solitude, but they don’t stay that way. They invite you in.

Jennifer Kelly

Anastassis Philippakopoulos — piano1 piano2 piano3 (Edition Wandelweiser Records)

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2020 was a rotten time for too many things to count, but it was a great time to stop and settle into some new music. That opportunity could not have been on anyone’s mind when Elsewhere Music released Anastassis Philippakopoulos: piano works mere weeks before the lockdowns began, but it was a perfect response to the moment. The Greek composer’s compositions, as performed by Melaine Dalibert, were distillations of reflection and deliberate action. This album, which contains earlier works performed by a different pianist, exchanges pith for elongation, but in other respects it’s a continuation of Philippakopoulos’s poetic dialogue between profound silence and unassumingly beautiful sound. Each note bears the weight of consideration, as though the composer carried out a moral inventory before committing to its placement in moderate proximity to another one, and the restrained touch of Serbian pianist Teodora Stepančić honors the music’s austerity.

Bill Meyer

Sif — Darkstalker (Self-released)

Darkstalker by Sif

Nuthin’ fancy here, folks, just 25 minutes of satisfying blackened doom. Richard Murphy has been making records as Sif for a few years, and the project has gotten progressively heavier, shifting from bummer drone meditations to this current thumping and crunching incarnation. The tape’s opening track “Kingseeker” slowly morphs from a repetitive churn to a sludgy groove, which situates the sounds in Louisiana’s long metal tradition (just what goes on down there?). It’s beautifully paced and just recalcitrant enough to insist on returning to the opening riff, rather than seeking any sort of catharsis. The title track spends some time foregrounding Murphy’s chops on bass, with the sort of heaviosity-worship one associates with Conan. Tremolos and more varied textures eventually cut into the song, with some heroic intent. But mostly Murphy wants to wield tone like a mace to your forehead. Hit me again, man. It’s good.

Jonathan Shaw

Ultrabonus — El Gimnasio en Casa (Kitchen Leg)

EL GIMNASIO EN LA CASA VOL.1 by ¡ULTRABONUS!

Recorded a lifetime ago (well, in 2020, same difference) and released this past December, the unprocessed immediacy of El Gimnasio en Casa bears no left-in-the-can staleness. Berlin-based, multi-national four-piece Ultrabonus offers brief, melodic garage-punk tunes delivered with crisp, swaggery style by Argentina native Ignatz B. The title charmingly translates to “the home gym,” and the sunny lo-fi psychedelia is appropriately threaded through with calisthenic noodling. Nothing groundbreaking here, but Ultrabonus does what it does very well. Fun, cool stuff.

Margaret Welsh

99Letters — Makafushigi (Disciples)

Makafushigi by 99LETTERS

Japanese producer Takahiro Kinoshita’s companion piece to his 2022 Kaibou Zukan (Anatomy Picture Book) takes his concept of gagaku techno into a seamy, industrial and far darker direction. Makafushigi (Mystery Tape) is, like its predecessor, built on samples of traditional instruments and vocal styles used in Japanese Imperial Court music. Introduced from Chinese and Korean sources, Gagaku music has continued under Imperial patronage since the 10th century. As 99Letters, Kinoshita fuses these ancient sounds with modern electronic music in ways that are as malevolent as the demons of mythology and as sinister as the underbelly of organized crime and ultranationalism in contemporary Japan. The tracks on Makafushigi are washed in a seamy mix of grit and clamor, a grim, grimy world of back alleys, dingy bars and low-tech manufacturing. It’s a haunted netherworld as alienating as it’s compelling. Fans of Haxan Cloak & Demdike Stare will find much to like here.

Andrew Forell

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