SADISTIC MIKA BAND

But even without all the distractions the band would have been doomed by such an anemic effort: thirty-five (thankfully) brief minutes of pallid soft rock, lacking the sly energetic imitation of their self-titled first album and the galvanized intensity of their previous "Kurofune". The exceptions are the two contrasting highlights book-ending the album, beginning with "Time to Noodle", arguably the strongest single piece of music in the abbreviated SMB catalogue (and notably an instrumental track). Despite its total lack of Asian character the music has a powerful yet playful momentum, building to a speed-freak Fusion 'chorus" not unlike an injection of pure adrenalin.

On the polar opposite end of the musical spectrum is the oddball album closer "Tokyo Sunrise", a totally different experience but equally effective in a dreamy, drugged out sort of way. The hazy tropical atmosphere and weird stoned vocals (is that Mika snoring over the fade-out?) offer an ideal antidote to the uninspired songwriting elsewhere on the album, reaching its aesthetic nadir in the too-accurately titled "Style Is Changing", followed by the embarrassment of "Funkee Mahjong". The former is a bit of a Doobie Brothers ripoff; the latter presents the worst sort of obsequious musical kowtow, almost a sell-out of the band's native Japanese heritage, which might have worked if it had been intended as satire.

Things fell apart pretty quickly after the album was released. The surviving band members, sans Mika, would retreat to the Far East and attempt a comeback as The Sadistics, but the new group's first album would leave no impression whatsoever on this listener, although I wouldn't mind a belated second listen. "Hot! Menu" ("Hot! Mess" would have been a better title) is essential to any complete picture of this unique band, but unlike their two earlier albums this one isn't a keeper.

The album is hardly their proggiest. But it remains their most authentic recording, presenting a unique band in its native habitat, far removed from any foreign interference. My own well-preserved (vinyl) import is annotated mostly in hieroglyphic ideograms, but the garish tropical artwork and imperfectly translated subtitle (sic: "It's a Sweet Songs for Lovers") provide context clues to the music itself, which runs an enthusiastic gamut between kick-ass blues, lovelorn ballads, glam rock posturing and teeny-bopper pop, often with a groovy "shoo-be-doo-wop" background chorus.

Naïve cross-cultural mimicry? Or sly tongue-in-cheek pastiche? It's hard to say for sure, which is part of what makes this album so much fun compared to the band's more polished later efforts. They would quickly be linked to ROXY MUSIC, and no wonder: compare the gatefold sleeve insert here, with its kitschy beach frolic band portrait, to the likeminded feather boas and sci-fi apparel of Bryan Ferry and company. The Sadistic Mika Band wasn't playing Progressive Rock yet, by any definition. But the music (and the musicianship) on their first album is entirely credible on its own polyglot terms, and deserves nothing less than four brightly colored stars.

[...A quick personal postscript. So how did a sheltered kid from suburban Northern California first hear about this band? From a picture on the back cover of the QUIET SUN album "Mainstream", in which BRIAN ENO can be seen wearing a SMB sweatshirt. You couldn't ask for a better endorsement than that...]

The musicianship throughout is world-class, ranging from pinpoint fusion pyrotechnics to heavy rock power chords to dreamy Oriental psychedelia. The ethereal multi-tracked vocals in the album opener "Sumie No Kuni E" (separated into opposite channels, one voice singing and the other speaking) was a particular stroke of stylistic genius. As was the dramatic segue into the steamroller riffing of "Time Machine", enough to send any closet air-guitarist pounding his fists to the sky.

The band's native Asian culture surfaces at the start of Side Two, but the Far Eastern flavor was undermined in the tongue-in-cheek manner of early FAUST by a defiantly amateur saxophone, and by the ubiquitous funky crunch of a clavinet. Elsewhere, the album's three-part title track (a.k.a. "Black Ship", but the English song names are new to me: all the text on my imported LP is in runic Japanese) really allows the band to show its chops, shifting from manic jamming to a high-caliber Arena Rock anthem with testosterone to spare, all of it captured in the full-blooded production of ace engineer Chris Thomas, one of the premier studio gurus of the 1970s.

It's true that the original ersatz-glam spirit of the band was somewhat compromised by the move to London, where to a certain degree their foreignness was sold as a musical novelty. And the project would soon disintegrate when the husband/wife team of guitarist Kazuhiko and singer Mika Kato sailed into rocky marital waters: see the inaptly-titled "Hot! Menu" album, recorded the following year. But for the time being, as depicted in the fanciful cover photo here, the group was flying high.

Easily can imagine that lots of Edo people might be surprised, shocked, and upset with their sudden attack. Kazuhiko and his band have made an excellent expression about that matter, especially as an undefined fear / confusion in the first track "Sumie No Kuni E (Into A Nation Of Black Ink)" and as a coming anxiety in the second "Nanika Ga Umi Wo Yatte Kuru (Something Horrible Is Coming Across The Sea)", with weird voices and unstable melodies. Such a texture created by them (especially Kazuhiko, Takeshi Matsuyama, and Chris Thomas) sounds remarkably vivid. Not simply folksy nor catchy but experimental around pop essence. We can hear enough progressiveness for Japanese pop / rock scene in 1974 (and understand they could not be approved successfully). The last suite in Side A "Kurofune (2nd - 4th June, Kaei 6)" is the highlight of this album, where we can suggest a magnificent panic and hopelessness, giving-up around lots of Edo people, via powerful, enthusiastic heavy rock launched by deep bass sounds, complexly quaking drumming, and crying guitar shouts. On the contrary, in "Yoroshiku Dozo (Welcome Please)" natives seem to accept the cross-cultural matter (maybe could not avoid accepting under their superiority though).

Sadly, however, so far as I am aware, Kazuhiko's indulgence with his wife Mika, that he'd let her sing such a sweet rock "Time Machine" or an eccentric (for this story) cookie "Hei Made Hitottobi (Suki Suki Suki)", would lower the estimation for this album as a concept one. These pop songs, one of that later released as a hit single, are good indeed, but unsuitable catchy atmosphere in them might disturb the train of thought around this serious story I'm afraid.

This regretful point aside, this album created just in Japanese closed music scene could open widely Japan's door, and it's true. I'm sure this splendid work will be re-appreciated all over the world, after Kazuhiko's sad suicide. Highly recommended.