Violent Shogun - knife will not open because of the rust (Satatuhatta)

[Joie de la Blumpy]

This here's a repost of a commentary submitted for the original digital-only version of this wonderful tape, now at long and wonderful last available via a wonderful label that is NOT the wonderful Team Boro.

See bottom of this post for digest commentary.

Violent Shogun - Knife Will Not Open Because Of The Rust.
I know how frustrating it can be. But with the Shogun it's not like we haven't been through this before. Steel, even the high grade Japanese stuff, needs care. This becomes increasingly, painfully, clear over five straight sessions of exceedingly violent, roughly acoustic, metal-on-metal abuse. I’d say something but just between you and me, I’m starting to think he enjoys it.

This “tape” <quotations added>, which has yet to actually be made available on tape, was recorded in the middle of 2018 for a Swedish label that is NOT Team Boro, hur hur, and seems to have been intended as a follow up to the Shogun’s memorably noisome invitation to Taste Our Japanese Steel- self-discharged on recycled tape earlier the same year. Now if only that bloody knife would open we might dis-enjoy something of similarly festering decrepitude: a tin can fueled love declaration to Jaako Vanhala and Hal Hutchinson, close-mic'd junk-metals whanging and banging their rottingest, skewing baroque in a lengthy, continuously evolving, narrative arc that is savagely butchered in the ferric degradations of crest and puke, shove and scrape, clank and clunk.

Here, long-form narrative aspirations all but rusted shut, the Shogun takes a new line of attack. Five lines of attack, in fact, each quite distinct from the other, all quite pointed and focused on the presumptive task at hand: the reclaiming of a once treasured blade without losing claim to fingers—or other treasured parts—in the process. And brought off, I have to admit, with no small degree of cunning and ingenuity given the stated limitations of the materials at hand: a broken mixer, that now familiar tin can, and crusty tape loops. The crusty tape loops deployed do tend to wallow in low-pitched flatulating electronics, but serve the offensive well, lending a robust if decidedly grim, industrial-strength, flavor.

Attack the first takes place in a groaning blackened chamber thick with lugubrious atmosphere, metal chains rattling along the walls. When the heaving scraps blast into play, initial expectations of possible breakthrough are soon muted in the implacable gloom. At intervals, the whine of rusted, protesting metals rings through the calm before being swallowed up again in a heavy, full-bodied, factory dissemblage. By the fourth minute, the metals have all but given up, fuzzy bulge-balls feigning interest and then slinking in embarrassment into putrid pools of rippling sludge.

The second attack is much more of the metal-whanging-on-metal persuasion, with little in the way of electronic flatulence. Clangs and bangs are dispersed across a widened stereo field, hitting at times with quite some collective force, as though eager again to have the recipient sample the Japanese steel. Often however, the implements appear to struggle to assert themselves, caught scraping along corroded hinges, abrasive frictions wearing the edges down. In the abbreviated moments of ensuing calm, unsightly liquid palpitations drizzle onto the scene, as though to remind the Shogun of the considerable exertions yet demanded.

Things definitely seem to be going off the rails at the start of the third effort. Clipped machine-gun bass-thumpings underscore looped dialog of burnt hiss and cracked rattle. Soon, however, the rattle grows more dominant, echoing with increasingly heavy-handed concentration of clank and scour, signaling commencement of a none-so-surreptitious sneak attack. Higher-ended squeals merge with now quite singed-to-shit hissing washes, metal scraps knock together in crumpled whirling percussion, coming on strong in the final minute as the rhythms bow out to let the acoustic banging lead an all-too-soon-abandoned charge.

By the fourth foray, the apparent lack of progress has clearly taken its toll, grumbles and moans echoing in the doldrums of a repetitive, mournful, dirge. Junk scraps barely register against the dreary churn of crusty tape loops, though crusty is a bit of an understatement. Tape ribbons, stretched and frazzled to their limits, struggle to chew their way over derelict heads, heavy rumbling motors ready to give up completely. The metals, of course, are there, but rather muffled in gutted fidelities, not so much clanking or clunking as just grinding sulkily along, fighting to be heard above an endlessly wailing cycle of withered alarm-droop. Toward the end, as the tightly packed grumbling and grinding fights more determined metallic scrape, an unexpected bleed-through of shrieking shithawk squawk, wheedling and screeching at the unfairness of it all.

The fifth and final attack sees a resurgence of the full metal racket, clearly accepting of the urgency of the stakes. Egged on by downpitched loop of sardonic, grimacing, “whoop-whoop”, the first of several steely whangs comes slamming down with all earhole-jarring force. The sheer razored precision of these widely-panned whangs would almost suggest that that obstinate blade has actually been prized open. As with attack the second, the unmistakable invitations to taste Japanese steel, frosted edges huffed with ghost-whitened backwash. As the glowering horde of filth-choked underbellows starts to percolate to the surface, the steely whangs are reinforced with a wide assortment of variously abraded scraps, smashing scraping and clashing, charging together in a final savage thrust—for victory! Ill-contained densities broach critical levels, the stench of rotted metal heavy in the air. Palpable, now, the threat to drown the sorry scrap assembly in moldering rivers of rust...

Till that wily old shogun, with stone cold patience and cruelty, disembowels the sorry lot.


Digest spew
In the gutted, churning wake of Taste Our Japanese Steel, long-form narrative aspirations all but rusted shut, the Shogun takes five uniquely qualified lines of attack. Five lines, all quite brutishly pointed and focused on the unenviable task at hand. This particular offensive is served a robust if decidedly grim, industrial-strength, flavor, in the form of low-pitched, flatulating electronics. Dilapidated masses of metal-on-metal whanging banging clunking and thunking are retrieved from their decrepit confines, then dispersed over a widened channel pan, piling on in concert with variously abraded scrapes and scours. The sheer weight of opposition threatens to crush the assembled scrap implements in dense piles of heaving, lugubrious, moldering waste, noisome fidelities fairly burnt to shit, but don’t be too quick to count that wily old shogun out.

[Capers]

a wonderful label that is NOT the wonderful Team Boro.

The tragic label Team Boro was supposed to release another Shogun cassette though, the very fine work that is Ripping Hearts, which you can hear at the location below. My economy fell apart, and so did my little label. Fallen banker. So please, someone, put that thing out. It deserves chrome and screwed shells.
https://yesdivulgation.bandcamp.com/

And as for Knife Will Not Open Because Of The Rust, fantastic tape. Very glad to see it finally being spread around and heard by more than a handful. And what a great exhaustive and -ing review!

[Remi]

You guys are insane and adorable.

"Ripping Hearts" got selfreleased in the end, and that's it. I don't think I have covers left for extra copies now and am not sure whether it deserves to be spread more than it already was.

"KWNOBOTR" had a different backstory and did need to see a proper release because it was meant to, but the reasons why it didn't for so long were different and not comparable with "Ripping Hearts'. " I don't rate one release more than the other but they were meant to each live a different life and now they did, which I'm very happy about, and I'm grateful towards all the people that were involved in that. Life is life, shit happens, and what matters most is honest communication.

Also, I haven't been updating that Bandcamp account for a good while now because I'm tired of managing an online presence and it shows like 15% of the real Yes Divulgation output. I might care about it again in the future but not at the moment. If you're curious about something and want some info about anything, just hit me up and be patient.