Koji Asano: composition (unspecified sources and instruments)
There is nothing certain when a new release by Koji Asano comes out, except the assurance of something stimulating for the receptive systems; the same applies to this last outing. A download-only album lasting almost 70 minutes, Bingo Tower is entirely constructed on a monolithic flow of screechy noises and squealing pitches of undefined origin. Its constitutional organic laws may arise from a vague conception of plurality but the ultimate result gives the idea of a static, if piercingly variegated continuum. Inside the textural formation, we can discern human and animal/natural expressions, electronic fusillades – presumptively from a jam-packed game hall (hence the title, one surmises) – and other illegibly heterogeneous emissions, largely in the higher frequency gamuts. The overpowering upshot of this perpetual flux stands somewhere between pathologic industrial clangor and the introduction (and final fade-out) of Yes’ “Close To The Edge”, if you’re familiar with that. In any case, as it often happens with Asano, you want to learn more (and, consequently, reiterate the experience) as the record is over, the ears still ringing. Experiments with an ever-significant core, electroacoustic minimalism with a purpose. Obscure meanings? Sheer pleasure of startling the listener? We don’t have particular demands as we keep being absolutely content with what this broad-minded musician does, far from any official accolade, always looking ahead.