The flaw itself which has been born
can become bigger than the flaw which bore it
Because I myself loved too much the universe itself,
saying "I love you", I will continue to curse myself …
The legacy of Fushitsusha ("The Unlost") and Keiji Haino spans over thirty years, with a trail of recordings that even the most die-hard record collectors have had trouble following. The jet-black sound (and look!) of these records is unparalleled anywhere else in the world. Haino himself resisted the CD re-release of the legendary original PSF 3/4 album for quite some time, presumably to preserve the mystique associated with it. When it came out on CD at last, however, none of the Haino mystique was diminished in the slightest. In fact, each subsequent Haino/Fushitsusha release, old or new, only serves to enhance it all the more.
This isn't to say that every piece of Haino/Fushitsusha vinyl (or polycarbonate) is perfect. Some of them are downright boring and self-indulgent — and I'm sorry if I'm stepping on any Haino-worshipper's toes here, but there's a line to be drawn between "exploration" and "wankery." I thought Watashi-dake? was a tough sell, a very primordial Haino gagging and whispering — too "formative years" for all but the most devoted, something to experience after . Pathetique isn't perfect, but it has a huge helping of the same energy and fire that fueled their very best albums (like 15/16, for instance).
As with most Haino releases, there isn't much in the way of documentation — a set of studio notes on the obi strip, and that's typically about it. Pathetique is unusual for a Fushitsusha album considering how much documentation comes with it — it's actually got English-translated lyrics in the inner sleeve (see the quote above for an example), and that alone is more than we usually get. Haino's wailing, shrieking voice comes on like some kind of extradimensional prophet — you don't always know what he's going on about, but you're inclined to believe in it regardless. That's Haino's strong point (and by association, Fushitsusha's as well): empathy.
I shouldn't make it sound like Haino's the only one there (what irony: the title Watashi-dake? meant "Is it just me?"). The others in the band — Yasushi Ozawa (bass) and Jun Kosugi (drums) — contribute in ways that are not always heard explicitly but certainly felt. It's easy to get lost in this, since Haino's guitar is always the overriding element, but it synchronizes more often than you might think with everything else going on, especially the rhythm section. If anyone gets lost in the shuffle, it's Ozawa's bass, especially considering the generally lousy quality of the live-recording mixes.
The first and third tracks have the shambling, agonized energy of 15/16, but the second one is rather tiresome and not entirely convincing. The last track, which goes on for a staggering 44 minutes, however, is a distillation of everything the band has ever been, and quite possibly everything the band ever will become.
My slightly middling language isn't really a reflection of the quality of this release, barring the duff second track. This is simply an acquired taste. When and if you do acquire it, however, drink deeply.
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