However, the release of the greatest hits collection The Very Best of Japan begs the question: where does the band fit into this scheme?
Back in the early eighties, Japan were regarded as being a touch above the usual commercial fare of the New Romantic movement. David Sylvian and Mick Karn’s band were seen as eschewing chart success in favour of experimentation. As a result, they garnered a small core of devoted, art-school types as a following, rather than truly permeating the wider public consciousness.
But time has not reinforced that status and Japan to a large extent have slipped away into apathy and amnesia. Perhaps this Best of’ collection is intended by Virgin to be a timely reminder. Sadly, it is like to have the opposite effect.
The fact that the album is topped and tailed with the same song, ‘Ghosts’ in album and single formats, gives an indication of the paucity of material the compilers had to work with. Although the song has the band’s trademark ambience of unsettling mystery and an oriental disharmony - and was one of their only two songs that broke into the Top Ten - there seems no need to reiterate such similar renditions.
There are essentially three Japans, all of which are represented on this album.
The first is the experimental Japan where the band played about with time signatures, swathed the tracks in unpredictable and unusual percussion sounds and counterpointed any melodies with atonal soundscapes. ‘The Art of Parties’ is a fine example of this mode, pitching itself somewhere between the mania of Thomas Dolby and the nightmarish surrealism of Talking Heads. Commercially bombing at the time, the material sounds dated and pointless in 2006.
A five-and-half-minute instrumental live track, ‘Methods of Dance (Live)’, stretches both the running time and your patience.
The second brand was the commercial Japan, which had more of an eye on the music market and delivered a more comfortable, classifiable product. The opening of ‘Quiet Life’ could easily be mistaken for early Duran Duran, as does ‘Life in Tokyo’. The synthesiser sequences differ little from track to track with ‘European Son’ ranking as particularly derivative and aimless.
The final subgroup finds Japan in smooth, bland mode. Whilst not a ballad, ‘All Tomorrow’s Parties’ has a conventional verse structure and relies more on David Sylvian’s vocals to carry the track. There is a pleasant, if undemanding melody but your reaction to the track will be tempered by how you view Sylvian as a singer.
He was revered as vocal stylist at the time, but looking back it is hard to see what the fuss was all about. He marries the affected loucheness of Bryan Ferry with the nasal whine of a Simon Le Bon. As a result, most Japan tracks are delivered by the vocal equivalent of sink unblocking cream. There’s no denying the smoothness, but there’s often an inexplicable gurgling noise - that you can’t make head nor tail of - disappearing down the drain.
The two most outstanding tracks are the ones that abandon the ‘Japan sound’. Although not a patch on the Smoky Robinson’s Motown original, ‘I Second That Emotion’ is a highly listenable slice of MOR that’ll have you singing along. It has a lightness that relieves the esoteric posturings that leaden the general proceedings.
‘Nightporter’ is a terrific acoustic ballad played mainly on piano with minimal string accompaniment. It has that haunting, hypnotic quality of much of Kate Bush’s earlier material.
This album’s claim to be “The Very Best of Japan” does no favours to the band’s reputation. It would have been kinder to let the collective memory of Japan fade and for us to admire Sylvian and Karn’s solo work afterwards.
As it is, all but the most avid, completist fans will be wishing Sayonara to Japan before the album finishes.
Originally published 28th March 2006
No comments:
Post a Comment