Mono - London, UK, Summer 2003
By: Toby L
Legends are birthed this way, you're certain of it - through classic, early performances, in obscure, one-off venues to a gathered, faithful consortium of those 'in the know'.
And, of the performance-premises, you can't get more one-off than London's Betsy Trotwood: a basement-room that prides itself on its, erm, intimacy - which, uniquely, can house a whole 40 people. At a push.
Yet, somehow, it's all strangely apt for the first ever London... no, scrub that... first ever UK show for Japan's non-vocal sonic-noiseniks, Mono. Quiet, chipper press-murmurings, excited responses in their native-land, and it's little wonder that demand is rapt for the night's performance - one which is so ear-crushingly intense and wearingly battering that as the final blows to your frontal-cranium are delivered, the temptation to wither and shrivel in a rocking-chair for your remaining years becomes an ever-alluring option.
So why subject yourself to such a hammering? Simple: because you're witnessing the barriers being annihilated - smashed to smithereens in front of your very eyes and lobes, and gasping at every minute via each tussle, whack and ker-thwap! of the mighty, spiralling guitars or fiddles with the FX-boxes located on the ground.
Add to the mix hard, heavy bass-dominance and a permanent fixture of accelerating drum-patterns and entwining percussive-structures, and you've got in your grasp the most potent, contrasting yield of the avant-garde yet... And just when you anticipate it to halt or dwindle: that's precisely when the distortion and angst trebles itself, for a final crescendo of jaw-dropping brutal-destruction.
... So we wanted to meet the blaring blighters behind the enterprise. Shame for them, their debut, face-to-face, British interview occurs right after the live-experience, sweat still dripping from foreheads and fatigue-levels soaring. Shame for us, there's a serious language-barrier at stake. Saved by the presence of interpreter Ayumi Melody Loader, however, and the latter issue is no longer a problem, Loader's detailed, precise translation-process never deterring from the necessary directness so sorely needed for any two-way interview-process.
You join all of Mono, and rockfeedback, in the steaming-hot aftermath of their savage audience-genocide, where cleaners are now mopping up the damage. All members of the act are present - Takaakira Goto (guitar), Tamaki (bass), Yasunori Takada (drums) and Yoda (guitar) - each keen to discuss the vitriolic gusto that ignites their endeavour (as encapsulated, extravagantly, on two albums: 'Under The Papal Tree', and their sophomore, perhaps defining, 'One More Step & You Die').
'We only got in yesterday,' details Yoda of the band's time in Britain so far. 'We haven't had a chance to look around yet, but I'm looking forward to spending a day at the British Museum tomorrow...'
'It seems bizarre being over here and not doing a huge amount of shows,' notes Tamaki. 'It makes our routine seem wrong, in a strange way. It's just weird not doing gigs now.'
So how does tonight's unique, UK performance contrast to the usual Mono experience?
'It's hard to say,' opens naturally-appointed spokesperson of the group, Takaahira, 'as we've only performed here tonight. But when we played for the first time in the States, there were people at the bar just drinking and talking through the first song, which made us slightly nervous to perform such quiet, soft songs to begin with.
'But then we saw that those who started out distracted whilst we were playing, eventually, would start nudging each other and tell one another to shut up and just listen to the performance, and then the crowd would get into it. With the European audience, we do find that people concentrate even more.
'If you hear our record before seeing us, you probably wouldn't be able to understand what we want the songs to mean, unless you really, really concentrate,' Goto expands. 'But, when you see us live, it's not just the music - it is noisy, but you can also see our spirit and what we're about as people. Hopefully, you can understand what Mono is by watching us live - and then the CD acts as a reminder.'
But, an even more pressing-teaser: since arriving and comparing your notes - just how peculiar a race do we, the Brits, seem to the Japanese?
Each of the four seated band-members snigger. 'You're not weird at all,' Goto affirms. 'As we do more and more gigs, we've learnt that the nationalities seem more similar to each other than people often believe.'
This is just the point, too; although Mono's Eastern origin unquestionably adds a respect of the mystique to their work, effectively, their stylised brand is one long pioneered by creatives of any and all locations - from Thurston Moore and Kim Gordon of NYC, to Stuart Braithwaite of Glasgow.
Relevantly, in fact, we soon learn that 'The ideals of Sonic Youth are very important' to the quartet, whilst 'My Bloody Valentine' similarly proved an early inspiration (whereas The Smashing Pumpkins/Zwan's 'Billy Corgan' is the one rock-musician they'd have eliminated if the occasion arose). But what about the group themselves: when producing a purely instrumental sound so grand, so epic, so unrelentingly huge - what ideas and feelings run through their heads?
Goto keeps it simple. 'Nothing - but not in a silly nothing. We can't really control what we go through or what we're thinking when we're onstage. When we're really into it, we make a sound that we hear return to us and just keep working on it - and it becomes like a rolling ball, one that simply gets bigger, bigger and bigger... We become something that we're not, something even larger.'
Is there a chance to ad-lib to any of these structures?
'As we play the same songs 200 times a year at shows, we have a goal every time we perform to not make it the same old, same old,' Takaakira nods. 'We're always aiming to make the song new and refreshing for ourselves. Every time we play, it's like we're improvising - and, if it ever goes wrong, we can almost intuitively sense it in each other, and then try to make it right.
'The fundamental basis of our time in the studio too, is that we record everything live - we don't really fiddle with it. With the first album, we recorded everything in ten hours, straight.'
'But, afterwards,' raises Yasunori, 'because we realised we could now do that, we decided to do something different - take all our ideas and progress them as far as they could go.'
'Even with our instruments,' continues Goto, 'since we started three years ago, we haven't changed anything - not even one cable. We've never really needed anything more than guitars, a bass, drums and amps, as we've never had the desire to experiment with anything more.'
Takada takes the idea even further. 'It's not about playing the instruments anymore; we put our own energy into the band - it's not about keeping the rhythms tight, we always try to put in something more than simply playing a bass or guitar... Trying to get over the ideas that we're feeling.'
Then, looking at the physical-presentation of those in front of us, we ask the clincher.
Is it similarly important as the previous thoughts for the band to have good haircuts?
Goto looks to his band-mates, baffled. 'We've never really thought about that...'
Well, what about artists around these days: do Mono too discover a myriad of talent too scared/unwilling to push the boundaries or be perceived as 'extreme'?
'I think that attitude is becoming less and less as time goes by, actually,' Goto signifies, optimistically. 'In my opinion, the music-industry is heading in a better direction - the trivial notion of, 'Oh, I want to get on TV before I release any music,' is no longer such a priority in many ways.
'As a rule, I hate major-labels,' he sensationalises, grinning. 'We identify and respect bands that choose to be independent, and do their own thing, because that's what we endeavour to be about. Another thing - if the song is good, it doesn't matter what genre it is in. We're not saying that music has to be this way, and nor is it a sport, where people should say, 'Oh, look - I can play the guitar this good.'
'We don't have a specific message for someone to understand,' he huffs. 'The simple thing is, if they don't like it, don't listen. But, for those that do, we find that people keep coming back - they bond with the band and develop a deeper fondness for the music and sound.'
It's late, and the foursome are beginning to make their yawns a lot more obvious. Mono: in three words - explain...
Goto: 'Sincerity, emotion, and space...'
And any last, residing thoughts...?
'Once we release the music, it really is no longer ours,' Goto concludes. 'I'm not really sure what I'd want people to listen into it beyond their own, personal interpretation.
'We're just hoping that, in the future, even if we're no longer around, we'd have liked to achieve an album, or a piece of music, that people will remember us by.'
For anyone, the latter is quite an aspiration. But, for Mono, and their clobbering, gargantuan monster of an aural-assault, it seems a justified, highly likely by-product.
Special Thanks: Mel Loader
Artists in this article: Mono