Image by Jennifer Hofstetter
Boris' trance-like cohesiveness hits Atlanta hard
July 5, 2008, at the Earl
By Beverly Bryan
Published: July 7th, 2008 | 7:30pm
Japan’s heavy-rock underground legend Boris proved true the tales of its superlative and weighty live show in a night presented by Chunklet magazine. Normally a three-piece, the band is touring in support of its new album Smile (Southern Lord) with guitar hero Michio Kurihara, an occasional collaborator who makes a few appearances on the album. Thankfully, the Earl sells earplugs from a candy machine.
The openers weren’t sweet or low, either. First, the bracing swing of Boston’s Clouds emerged from a forest of Marshalls. Though unrepentantly metal, their music maintained a tastefully modern quality and a sense of fun reflected in the foam pointer fingers they sold for fans to brandish. They introduced the second band Torche in three-part harmony before ripping open the last few songs. They were at their best when harmonizing. Hailing from both Atlanta and Miami, Torche’s bass-heavy but often melodic head-banging fodder made Clouds look a bit fluffy.
Surrounded by their Sunn and Orange amps, Boris’ three guitar players positioned themselves before a full console each of effects pedals and a staggering array of buttons and knobs. Drummer Atsuo started the set by sounding a free-standing gong from behind a cloud of smoke. (All three members of Boris go by only one name.) The maze of esoteric equipment that would have upstaged many players just seemed like many playthings in their capable hands.
A few members of the audience were calling lead guitarist Wata’s name before she played a note, and watching her eloquently attenuate the high notes in the dreamy panorama of “Flower Sun Rain,” it was immediately clear how she and her cohort got a reputation for their virtuosity.
All four started playing in a trance-like absorption. Takeshi played a double-headed bass-and-guitar chimera but seemed to favor the bass half, sometimes playing the melody on it. Kurihara added another guitar, using a metal finger slide and EBow together at times. With all of the pedals abetting their psychedelic metal it was impossible to predict what kind of sounds would come from what instrument.
Easily the most emotive member of the band, it may be Atsuo’s official role to whip up the crowd with his face-making and wordless howling. He led the clap-along sessions and bounced his upturned hands when he thought the audience could yell a little louder, however, only Takeshi spoke to the audience and only then to introduce Kurihara. Wata and Atsuo contributed vocals, but Takeshi’s plaintive singing — in Japanese, of course — gave the show its most human musical moments.
The chemistry was evident as the four musicians wove their unpredictable epics while hardly looking at one another. It was as if such things were superfluous so long as they were all plugged into one sound system.
Boris' songs alternated between tense droning interludes relieved by keening ripples of sound and the vicious shredding that built into unbearable crescendos. Sometimes there was only a roaring and wailing driven by Atsuo’s relentless but subtle drumming and sometimes their hands were just blur. Even the ballads felt apocalyptic.
At the end of the final song, while his band mates droned on, Atsuo climbed atop the kick drum to deliver a double devil-horn salute before triumphantly crowd surfing and slipping away. Finished, Takeshi and Wata shook hands warmly with a few folks up front before following him. After so evil an exit, the forgone encore was understandable.
Issue #35
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