[Noise] is the false liquidation of art – instead of utopia becoming reality it disappears from the picture.

— Theodor W. Adorno

In 1516, Sir Thomas More immortalised the term utopia in a narrative of the same name. He used the term as a means of critiquing European states of the day, against an aspirational vision of order, harmony and homogeneity. Markedly of its time and rooted in the various social, religious and cultural anxieties of that century, More’s Utopia would go on to give rise to a desire for the creation of an aspirational social order where control and discipline were deployed to engender a tangible sense of social perfection.

Nearly four centuries later, Adorno wrote of Jazz as a false liquidation of art (Jazz supposedly amongst the most transgressive and ‘noise-like’ music of its day)—it’s not that difficult to conceive how Adorno arrived at this point. His words and his desires echo the sentiments of Utopia. His comment, which has gone on to inform a range of highly critical responses, in turn, galvanised the recognition and celebration of other musics. Music that doesn’t seek to engage with convention and familiarity but rather, in certain pivotal moments at least, banish the notion of utopian formalism in favour of celebrating the complexities and challenges of the everyday.

Whereas Adorno wrote of a desire for a so-called utopia in the music he examined, critics and theorists in his wake have revolted against this notion and have instead aspired to grapple with music rooted in an intense social, political and cultural framework. These historically decried musics (Jazz, Punk and Noise amongst them) are concerned with the lived experience in this world, in this time, and seek to embrace the excesses and tensions of these lived moments.

Reaching out from the shadow of Free Jazz and other ‘dissident’ musical forms of the 20^th century, Noise (or, in Japan, Noizu) echoes this rejection of a homogenised utopian perfection. In fact, at the point of its creation, Noise actively sought to disassociate itself from familiarity, from normativity and from the notion of singular perception, in favour of a more unsteady relation with the world around it. Moreover, like Jazz, it sought to confront expectations and, through provocation, pose questions that might unlock ways of being (in this reality as opposed to the so-called utopia) towards opening us up to new positions and perspectives, both on an individual level and as a community.

It’s here, at this nexus of provocation—embodiment in the moment and a recognition of the ways that complexity of sound might manifest unforeseen compositional possibilities—that the work of Merzbow is situated.

I first met Tokyo musician and artist Merzbow (Masami Akita) in October 1997. We were introduced in a carpark out the back of a venue, The Capitol, in Brisbane. Akita was on tour with Mike Patton, performing a series of improvised concerts that would later accumulate into a duet recording as Maldoror. This concert was one of a few performances during that decade which categorically forged my interests in experimental practice, Noise and the capacity of sound to be a physiological experience. It was the first time I experienced music that was so unruly, free and unconstrained in every way imaginable.

This formative encounter is one I am sure I share with a generation of outlying musicians here in Australia, whose way through the darkest stretches of music-making were illuminated by the eruptive light of iconic artists such as Merzbow.

Now into its fourth decade, Akita’s Merzbow continues to accrue a (sub)cultural cachet by forging an unsettled and igneous flow of sound that manages to consume all that comes in contact with it. Merzbow typifies a certain kind of music, one that transgresses the demarcations of pre and post internet-age. In the 1990s, when word travelled slowly, and music even slower than that, it was often the case that one would hear of Merzbow before actually hearing Merzbow. This was certainly the case for me, my first encounter coming in 1995 via a mixtape someone made me.

Merzbow represents a kind of subcultural zeitgeist, a sonic spectre so apparent as to echo outward without decay across boundaries of genre, aesthetics, politics and geography. Today this ghost-like quality persists, with Merzbow memes and GIFs likely entry points for virgin ears. His work borrows from a kind of punk aesthetic—a determined, self-manifesting DIY mentality—but in the same moment he has pushed the very boundaries of those philosophies using his endless wave of absolute noise to menace expectations and capacities for appreciating the totality of his work. His output is, quite simply, extra-human. This voluminous sonic discharge—literally and metaphorically—is complex, dense and seemingly endless. It is a promise of noise to the infinite, but what does this idea of infinite or absolute noise, that has come to be so heavily associated with the work of Masami Akita, encapsulate?

When listening to Merzbow, there is certainly an aesthetic sensation that comes over and overcomes the body/mind of the listener. His studio recordings create perpetually unfolding, irregular and unexpected acoustic landscapes which juxtapose dynamics, rhythm, distortion and extremely wide (and often unexpectedly distributed) frequencies to create a sense, in the listener, of being utterly overwhelmed.

In performance Merzbow expands this sensation of being wholly consumed, through a more embodied strategy. While still utilising angular sonic juxtapositions, Merzbow’s live shows emphasise primarily the capacity of sound to engage with the materiality of the body. His performances shift the focus from a studio practice that seeks to overwhelm the ears to a determination to actively penetrate the body in ways that most music does not.

The clearest example of this embodied activation I have experienced was listening to Merzbow live in Sydney some years ago. The performance, aided by a fairly well-resourced sound system, accumulated energy and intensity in a profound way. The climax of the experience, but perhaps not of the concert itself, was recognising during one section that my right-side lung was vibrating. Until that point, I had never known such a sensation was possible. After the performance, we discovered the subwoofer (which weighed many hundreds of kilograms) had shuffled forward almost a metre, to the edge of its tether. Merzbow has been putting out some significant low-frequency energy.

There’s an inherent excess to what Merzbow does and this excess represents not only a re-reading of the guiding principles of music making, but moreover a recognition of music’s shifting position in culture. Akita seems acutely aware of the proliferation of music, of its capacity to infiltrate every social setting – from communal spaces such as shops to private spaces and activities such as jogging or even sleeping. This proliferation is reflected in the absolutism of Merzbow’s music and manifests itself with visceral consequences.

Merzbow’s pioneering approach to noise has earned him a unique and enduring position. His consistency of output is equal parts inspiring and daunting. It speaks to a practice that is intensely dedicated and relentless and simultaneously tests those who come in contact with it – psychologically and physiologically. It is a true evocation to noise in infinity.

merzbow.net

lawrenceenglish.com

room40.org