reviews of "sunset notes"

Other Music
by Josh Madell
Although this is the first release bearing his name on the cover, Michio Kurihara's playing should be well known to anyone with an ear to the Japanese psychedelic scene of the last 20 years. The stunning guitarist first came to prominence in the mid-'80s groundbreaking group White Heaven, who were at the forefront of the burgeoning Japanese psych revival. Since the mid-'90s he has been recording and touring as the lead guitarist of the psych-folk powerhouse Ghost, whose deal with Drag City and US tours with Damon & Naomi and others brought their sublime sounds to the attention of many Westerners. Kurihara has also toured extensively as part of Damon & Naomi's own band, and the duo's 20/20/20 imprint is responsible for this reissue of Sunset Notes, his lone solo release originally out in Japan in 2005 on Pedal Records.

Anyone expecting a simple stripped-down rehashing of Ghost or White Heaven's epic, acid-drenched sounds will be a bit surprised by the nine tracks included on this excellent and varied album, despite production by White Heaven leader You Ishihara and engineering by Soichiro Nakamura, who has worked with artists such as Boris and Nagisa Ni Te. Indeed Kurihara's fretwork is intrinsically mind-bending, and tracks like the set closer "A Boat of Courage" have a swirling and soaring quality that fans of Kurihara's best-known work will recognize. But the mostly instrumental album explores a myriad of directions, with crisp production and a clear and focused guitar sound presenting Kurihara's own take on progressive, surf, spaghetti-western, blues and more. With such diverse moods and subtly nuanced performances, in some ways Sunset Notes comes across more like a film soundtrack than a rock album, and as a result, it is a cinematic, emotional journey. The guitarist casually echoes such diverse six-string icons such as Thurston Moore, Dick Dale and Loren Mazzacane Connors without ever sacrificing his own taste and individualism.

CD Reviews.com
by Pablo Rivers  

If I had a nickel for every review of a Michio Kurihara album I've done in the last two weeks, I'd have 10 cents. Much to the glee of American fans, the Japanese guitar hero released two albums stateside this month. The domestic release of Rainbow caught the headlines, if there were any. Rightfully so; twas an epic clash of fuzz titans, Boris meets Kurihara, weren't none left standing nor hearing and the city was left in shambles. But if that weren't enough, the stateside release of Kurihara's solo album Sunset Notes also wrought havoc on fine independent record stores this month as it plodded out after its gargantuan precursor, like Godzooky in the maternal footsteps of Momzilla or whatever.

Of course, Sunset Notes predates the Rainbow recordings with an original 2005 release date, so if there's really any proceeding going on around here, one ought get their facts straight. Indeed, the experimental axe-man's limits are tested on this release, much in the same way Rainbow attempted to console the chasm between the e-bow harangues and spacious guitar somnambulance. And so one might consider this a blueprint for the varied textures of that album, if one was dopey enough to assume that the interests in dynamics were the sole product of Kurihara sense of melody. Still, the beauty of this album's two wind pieces, "Wind Waltzes" and "The Wind's Twelve Quarters," provide a nice reference point for the softer moments of Rainbow. 

The most familiar element of Kurihara's arsenal, however, is the fuzz and it's in no short supply here. "Time to Go" ushers in the album in fantastic means, an anthemic opener that reels the listener in for the brittle bounce of "Do Deep-Sea Fish Dream of Electric Moles?" But the heart and soul of the album is the staggeringly beautiful "Pendulum on a G-String: The Last Cicada," a rhythmic experiment that features Kurihara seemingly accompanied by himself with a repetitive guitar loop. The sinew of Kurihara's lead sounds much like Fripp's noodling or Brian Eno's snake guitar, a stranglehold tone that wraps around the track and constricts with the infiniteness of its liquidity. Kurihara strains every note for the depth of its possibility, just as any good stringer should, pulling out all them sweet juices that make his compositions more than also-ran tunes.

Eccentricities, Kurihara's got plenty as well. The spaghetti western pastiche "Twilight Mystery of a Russian Cowboy" mimics Morricone's steez with ease. Meanwhile, the pyrotechnics of "A Boat of Courage" are enough to blast a bridge with ample firepower left to plunder the train in the meanwhile. Throughout the length of the album, Kurihara displays his patented sense of texture; even here, his preferred method of domination is through sublimation. Each track is purified and cleansed by texture, which may not always be at the forefront or necessarily noted, but is always the underpinning of the composition. If the sludge psychedelia of Rainbow wasn't enough for eager the Kurihara fan, Sunset Notes will surely fill the hunger.

Ptolemaic Terrascope UK
A guitarist makes a solo record and it either becomes something like a Jeff Beck record or a horribly noodling Yngwie Malmsteen riff fest. So was my fear of listening to Michio Kurihara's "Sunset Notes". However, let's consider that Mr. Kurihara is a different type of player all together from either one of the former. He is most similar, if a choice should be made, to the first but let's not take anything from his talents or his album. He can stand firmly on his own feet and does. So while many guitar records boast of virtuosity and musical prowess, often at the expense of a good song, "Sunset Notes" does not boast. It is evident immediately that Kurihara is a brilliantly playing force of reckoning but the ego stroke of so many other poorly constructed guitar records doesn't exist here.

In songs like "Wind Waltzes", Kurihara masterfully lets the song speak for itself. He allows Ai Aso to sing gently over the song while the guitar accompanies perfectly, never intrusively. Kurihara never forces his guitar to be more than it is or to give less than it can. He allows it to be exactly what it is on every cut of the record.

This is not a doom tinged, fuzz rock record. In fact it's damn near happy and celebratory. Part surf, in places and part Duane Eddy in others, Michio Kurihara plays from a place that seems less chaotic, less desperate and frenetic than many other guitarists. He almost always exhibits excellent creativity paired with a need never to be a "show". He's a very mature player wherein the only things that need to speak for themselves are the sounds of the guitar and the songs that he plays. This is music tailor-made for watching the surf crashing against a rocky shore. It is often reflective and thoughtful while always remaining hopeful, challenging and positive.

There are many key moments on "Sunset Notes". My personal favourites are "Wind Waltzes" and "Pendulum on a G-string-The Last Cicada" with its hints of King Crimson. 

Listening to "Sunset Notes" gives me the feeling that I need to pull out a typewriter and lose myself in a sea of words and images. It plays like an especially great escape from the now. Where it goes, one wants to follow. ( Erica Rucker )


Boomkat
Chances are the last time you stumbled across Ghost axe-man Michio Kurihara was in his shockingly good collaboration with Japanese doom-monsters Boris. Funnily enough their album 'Rainbow' has been re-issued by Drag City only this week, and this week is also where we get to hear Kurihara's latest solo emission, the gorgeous 'Sunset Notes' which slips out on the Damon & Naomi curated 20/20/20 label. So far, so psychedelic then, but 'Sunset Notes' is as enjoyable a revelation as 'Rainbow' was for us, and is just as eager to cross genre territories wilfully and using as much guitar soloing as should be humanly possible. Yep this man is a demon when confronted with six strings and a pick, and across nine tracks Kurihara shows us his severe and virtuoso skill, drenches it in reverb and implores us to punch the sky with the kind of glee only ever gleaned from extended guitar solos. Melodic, jubilant and effortlessly experimental 'Sunset Notes' is just the album I've always wanted from Kurihara, and now sidestepping from his supporting roles in Ghost and Damon & Naomi his talents are framed quite wonderfully. It might not sound too tantalising to be sold an album which is balanced around guitar solos, but this is where 'Sunset Notes' differs from all preconceptions, and rather than sink into self-indulgence it seems that the record is made with the listener in mind. I read somewhere that Kurihara still has a full time job at a factory in Japan, and this kind of connection with 'real life' is evident as his fretwork lets us soar into oblivion, it's rock 'n roll without the meaningless excess, and in that there is real beauty. If you have passion for 'Rainbow' and are looking for where next to step, the only real path lies with 'Sunset Notes'. Recommended.


Giant Robot
by Eric Nakamura
Best known as the six-string tweaker from Ghost and a collaborator with Damon &
Naomi, Kurihara is a guitar god who can travel through time and genres with the greatest
of ease. On this solo album, he shows his full range, from minimal to mellow to surf
music. He breaks out with psychedelic rock, space jams, and blistering solos. but there
are also more traditional songs that feature the vocals of Ai Aso. You get a little of
everything on this epic album, which features musical accompaniment from members
of Kurihara’s previous band, The Stars.

Foxy Digitalis
by Travis Johnson
I’ve never officially awarded anything a “Ten” before, and for the first time, I’m tempted to do just that. Guitar-samurai Michio Kurihara’s first name-branded effort, “Sunset Notes,” probably deserves the first down, but I’m holding back purely on the premise of Murphy’s Law. Should I award this truly stunning record top honors, the next “Sgt. Peppers” will come out next week, change the world, and I’ll be forced to convince my editor we need an 11-star scale. So Mr. Kurihara, if you’re out there, and if someone’s translating, know these nine stars fall short of communicating the inspirational effect your album has had on at least one soul. Listening to “Sunset Notes,” I’m moved to sing, dance, become teary-eyed, call my mother, and make amends with sworn enemies. It’s honest, it’s majestic, it’s inspiring, and it rocks with unbridled conviction. It’s probably a perfect work of art. Unfortunately, it’s not likely to change the world, but if it did—if the world truly followed suit—we’d have achieved a state of keen, utopian bliss.

Lending his instrumental sorcery to such notables as Ghost, The Stars, White Heaven, and Marble Sheep, Kurihara has built a reputation as Japan’s prime minister of brain blistering guitar accompaniment. Now, at long last, he casts his own name onto the marquee, conjuring a mature and masterful statement with which to announce his role as a sonic director. It’s an album that accurately summarizes a signature sound, without ever straying near triteness. Present are the blinding lights he’s known to borrow from the cosmos, but equally registering is the humility of a servant to songcraft. Nothing here sounds forced, or as if its composer might have a point to prove (not even in the context of “I’m more than just a guitar player”). What’s here is the passion and dedication of a team member—this time, he just happens to be quarterback.

Part psychedelic journey, part compositional showcase, “Sunset Notes” pivots upon a handful of stylistic touchstones that range from abstract aural painting, anthemic hippie hymns, gently crafted jazz waltzes, and dizzying, damaged surf rock. Compositionally, much of the work
herein might be likened to Spanish guitarist Ibon Errazkin’s invigorating themes of repetition, but shaded with Kurihara’s own profound grasp of color. One also can’t help but to note two tracks featuring the lovely vocal stylings of Ms. Aso Ais (also featured on Pedal records), during which “Sunset Notes” frolics within wistful psych-pop not unlike the delicately unfolding blossoms of Nagisa Ni Te.

The appropriately tagged opener, “Time to Go,” literally leaps from the gate, galloping through a series of slithering triplets seasoned with sprinkles of shimmering ambience. Seemingly a simple, good-time rocker, you’ll notice, leaning in closer, how the piece actually sounds like a battle cry or a sound of alarm. Following is the album’s most idiosyncratic piece, and winner of the ”Sunset Notes” What the Fuck Award. “Do Deep Sea Fish Dream of Electric Moles was accurately described by a friend as some kind of acid-fried, patriotic anthem--no, really! It actually sounds like a national anthem of some sort, but dripping with Kurihara’s masterful aural prose, rich, textural, and vivid. Two songs in, be assured, you’ve already gotten your money’s worth.

“Pendulum on a G-String-The Last Cicada,” however, towers the highest of all. Ringing a stylistic bell, Kurihara’s endlessly resonating, lovingly played notes hover over a repetitive one-chord stomp like bumblebees in a clover patch. Cleverly conceived quiet interludes within the track allow you to surface for air, but you really just don’t want to. Instead, the effect is like waking up from a dream to which you desperately want to return. It’s that good.

The album’s closer shows Kurihara doing the honorable thing and giving his vision a bona fide ending. Not only does it serve as a nice recap of the entire affair, but also individually testifies to Michio’s remarkable ability to construct a complete statement, rather than half-baking a cool guitar lick passed off as a song. Comprised of his levitating guitar harmonies, auditory fireflies, intricate chiming, and massive waves of ecstasy, “A Boat of Courage” is wrought with the intensity a little man with one seriously huge heart.

In the captivating interview conducted by the Ptolemaic Terrascope, Kurihara reveals his status as a working class musician, still laboring in a factory after nearly two decades of rocking. Some would call this a shame, evidence of the deterioration of the artist-consumer affiliation. Author J. D. Salinger famously noted that, "the mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one.” I find Kurihara’s servitude to music to be nothing less than inspiring, confirmation that real artists still thrive, respectfully dedicating lifetimes to a pursuits greater than self. If “Sunset Notes” doesn’t inspire, check your pulse. If you have one, listen again; you’ll hear a man who knows exactly who he is and who he wants to be. 9/10

Womblife
One of the most explosive guitarists alive today. His performances with White Heaven, Ghost, Mainliner and Damon and Naomi (to name a few) all speak for themselves. This solo debut has nine disparate tracks, ranging from flambed spaghetti western rawk to shimmery guitar pop. Through it all that unmistakable tone guides the listener through fuzzbox eruptions, minimal guitar scapes, fried surf rock and mellow pop not at all far from Nagisa Ni Te. Not the shredding freakout expected, it's a subtler, more varied journey through some of Kurihara's favorite sounds and styles. To think one day rap-rock-country phenom Big and Rich will be inducted by the RNR Hall of Fame and this guy wont even get a lifetime achievement award.