Qujaku

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to suggest that Japan’s relationship with avant garde-influenced art rock has been a fruitful one. Even across the seminal experimental acts of Europe and North America, names like Damo Suzuki and Yoko Ono pop up among the alumni; vital cogs in a genre of music lost to so many, and yet the absolute pinnacle of modern music to so many more. And now – expanding on the abrasive, uncompromising legacies that the likes of Suzuki and Ono continue to carve, are Qujaku – the artists formerly known as The Piqnic – who follow their debut album ZyouK with Keiren, their new extended play and the first release under the Qujaku umbrella. The Shizuoka four-piece take the ideas of ZyouK even further, with each side consisting of a solitary rumble of sonic discordance, metronomic instrumentation and, at each climax, something akin to a hyperactive wig-out, in effect creating something dark and challenging and yet still curiously joyous.
The introductory feedback and echoed production of Side A’s “Keiren” creates something of a sonic minefield; rolling drums and screaming guitars making it perfectly clear that this is unwelcome territory. By the time the vocals join the fray, the Damo Suzuki comparisons are party vindicated; the shouts and caterwauls are almost indecipherable in their enunciation, instead choosing to melt into the frenetic backing music. As the piece progresses, one can also hear more Western influences: in places, the muddy production and aural force makes it sound as if you’re trapped in a cellar directly below a classic Stooges gig. That said, there are also clear gothic influences, with the band slowly transforming into a more belligerent take on Bauhaus. As the title track climaxes into a cacophony of destruction, this eight-minute piece of psychedelia-tinged noise rock has, somehow, wormed its way into your brain. It has morphed into something far more catchy and memorable than it should have any right to.
The same cannot quite be said of “Shinonome,” a similarly intriguing but slightly more focused affair that takes up all of Side B. Although initially a far calmer track; a Krautrock-infused marriage of repetitive, insistent guitar and vocal curiosities are again the bedrock, but this time the singing truly takes centre stage. Rather than an impenetrable web of vague words, the vocals are truly an instrument in this case. In fact, one could arguably be forgiven for mistaking the vocals for something akin to an oud, a fascinating sound which turns another work of coarse, experimental rock and roll into something resembling a traditional piece of Arabic or Greek folk gone rogue. By the end of the song and EP, however, you find yourself back in familiar territory courtesy of a face-melting tour de force of angry yet calculated insanity: a noise energetic but concurrently weary. If anything mirrors the growing phenomenon of millennial apathy, it’s this. - Artrocker

If Agathe Max attempts to lull you, then Qujaku seeks to destroy you. A completely new band from Japan, Qujaku’s mix of shoegaze and moon-fuelled rock is absolutely exploding with energy. Their mixture of experimental rock with frenetic pace is likely to draw plenty of comparisons to London’s Bo Ningen – but honestly I think Qujaku come out rather favourably. With their boundless energy taking them to all corners of the pub like venue it’s a fantastic virtue that their music retains some twisted sense of direction, with open-plan songs narrowing down into a very accessible and direct path. For a band so new that they were known as The Piqniq just weeks before the festival to put on a performance as electrifying as this is hugely impressive – and for the UK to see Qujaku in embryo is something that we should feel very lucky for. In a small room full of people who knew absolutely nothing about them, it’s very likely that they won far more than a fair share of fans. I hope we’ll be seeing more from Qujaku and their blend of experimental rock fed through a punk straw. I certainly hope the last impression I give to them isn’t me Phil Mitchell-drunk, shouting ‘YOU WERE SO GOOD’ at London Bridge station…which…I mean…didn’t happen…at all. Not once. Not even twice. - OneMetal