Record: Japan 'Obscure Alternatives' (1978)

This record is such an odd experience. Being a massive fan of their later works, the Japan sound I know is smoothly elegant; classy, cool, and substantially coloured by exotic tints of civilizations far from England in the golden age of synthpop. It's completely disorienting to put on a Japan record and hear loud, fast, raw, raunchy glam rock. None of the esoteric beauty of Gentlemen Take Polaroids is to be found here, and Sylvian, not yet having developed his trademark velvety baritone croon, is almost unrecognizable in these gritty, yowling vocals. Only in Karn's slippery, tonally unstable bass playing and Jansen's frenetically odd drumming can I hear strong hints of the sounds I know they'll be making by the next record, 1979's stupendous Quiet Life. Most of the record is more reminiscent of some strange cross between The New York Dolls and tidbits of jazz and funk. It's also strange to hear so much prominent guitar; after this record most guitar sounds would become completely lost in the tonal sea of Richard Barbieri's wall-o'-synth - which is nearly inaudible this time around. The only track which resembles what I think of as 'the Japan sound' is The Tenant, a piano-based instrumental which ends the record on a note that carries over into every record they released afterwards. 

It's a damned good record once I manage to shut myself off from the visceral "that CAN'T be Japan" reaction. Their musical proficiency makes for a nice change from the simplistic three-chord structure of most glam rock, and it's quite entertaining hunting for precursors to their rather sudden switch to a sleek, shimmering art-pop sound.

Song: David Sylvian 'Silver Moon' (1986)

Here's a bit of buried treasure for you. I'm a pretty massive fan of Mr. Sylvian's music, most of the time, but I have yet to discover much affection for his record Gone to Earth. It swarms with unappealing qualities, particularly that pretentious sort of spiritualism which always makes me want to smack those afflicted by it upside the head in the hope that they'll come to their senses. It's not one of the triumphs of his career (unlike the absolutely perfect Secrets of the Beehive, of which I will write more at some point). Silver Moon, however, is a completely different sort of fish. This swooning little gem of a song seems completely at odds with the rest of the album; psuedo-Eastern mysticism gives way to lush romanticism, accompanied by a lithe, swaying beat unlike anything else on the record. The rich, silky warmth of many-layered instrumentation contrasts marvellously with the simple (and simply perfect) vocal, making for a deliriously lovely confection:

...Of course, having written all about why I can't stand Gone to Earth, I shall most likely listen to the whole record sixteen times in a row and end up falling in love with it after all, which is what always happens for me with Sylvian records. I didn't like Brilliant Trees at first either, and now I think it's, well, brilliant. Gone to Earth has got a lot going for it (like Steve Nye, for example - and Bill Nelson, Robert Fripp, & Richard Barbieri - and my favourite drummer of all time, Steve Jansen), so perhaps I ought to give it rather more of a chance.