Purportedly, the 2002 trip from which this recording was culled was a smokescreen for a record-shopping bonanza by Thurston Moore, Jim O’Rourke, and Mats Gustafsson. Whether or not their desire to stake out rare Japanese vinyl was in fact the true purpose of the journey, it seems that the trio made it on stage at least once, in Tokyo, and this album collects the results.
Ignoring completely the well-worn improvisational maxim of soft>>>loud, Diskaholics start things off which a quick storm of lightning-laced clouds. Moore’s guitar sounds at the three-minute mark in the first of his rather conspicuous contributions throughout the disc. Gustafsson, through technique and treatment, melds his sound more successfully with O’Rourke’s electronics, but Moore’s guitar, when present in its purest form, can easily seem at odds with his collaborators’ output. Moore’s trademark chug, a frequent and well-plied weapon in his improvisational arsenal, appears on Live in Japan in an almost obtrusive manner, never meshing comfortably with O’Rourke and Gustafsson. When he works in sheets of feedback or takes advantage of his instrument’s potential as a source of more irregular output, Moore is an equal third of what can be some satisfyingly scalding ear damage. O’Rourke’s electronics can be overbearing in the mix, obscuring his partners’ efforts, but when his sound fades, and the three are able to more evenly interact, Live in Japan can begin to burn. Diskaholics’ brew is often at its best when it’s a mix of anonymous ingredients, each musician locked into a like-minded zone, and no clear indications of who’s doing what.
So whether or not they bought anything good, the Diskaholics’ trip to Japan was at least a moderately fruitful one. As Live in Japan’s opening track ends, the three musicians are in a comfort zone, with Moore strumming determinedly towards bliss, Gustafsson twisting his horn into an instrument of screeching abandon, and O’Rourke lacing the foreground with electronic ornamentation. One can imagine the trio onstage, Moore towering off to one side with eyes closed, Gustafsson wrestling visibly with his instrument, and O’ Rourke with head down, intently twisting knobs. And while Diskaholics may not always be a whole equal to the sum of its parts, when the trio click, its easy to forgive any of their previous trespasses.
