After 12 years, four record labels and a handful of genres, Boris, the Japanese sludge/doom/noise/drone/psychedelic trio ,is about to release its 15th full-length album: “Smile.” Prolific almost to a fault, Atsuo, Takeshi, and Wata have come to represent everything underground music lovers dig. The band is never satisfied with one sound, and vehemently protests against being niched in any way. As a relatively new fan (I caught on about three years ago, after “Pink” came out), I’ve been continuously intrigued by Boris’ musical and public trajectories.
Undoubtedly, Boris has revolved around a series of melded aesthetics, but what’s even more interesting than the band’s evolution is the mutations of criticism surrounding its work. Their debut record, “Absolutego,” was recognized by most as a much-needed reconciliation of drone pioneers like LaMonte Young and metal stars like Black Sabbath. As if anything could be more badass, the record is now available in a super low frequency version, conducive to the sludgiest bass possible. Even after this 2001 reissue, critics were still stunned.
Peter Johnston of Deathtide said that, “’Absolutego’ [is] either a total piece of shit, or [Boris] are [sic] geniuses and this disc is falling on deaf ears.”
Ironically, ears were anything but deaf before Boris was born. Fast forwarding to 2005, Boris thrusts “Akuma No Uta” into the open arms of Pitchfork and the like. The band dialed up moments of Sunn 0))) drone with the fast-metal stylings of Motorhead not far behind. I don’t want to say that Pitchfork finally “decided” this kind of thing was cool, but looking at some of the writing about the album makes it a hard case to dismiss. Blogcritics magazine, ever on the heels of that elusive indie buzz, described the first listening experience of Akuma as “a slightly more aggressive and electrified version of Godspeed You Black Emperor.” And this, about a band that practically invented sludge metal.
Pitchfork tipped its bloated cap to Boris when reviewing “Pink,” acknowledging that “in underground metal years, Boris are [sic] senior citizens,” before proclaiming them “2006’s balls-out riff-makers to beat.”
After “Altar,” the celebrated, glacial collaboration with Sunn 0))), the band released several other collaborations and LPs before today’s impending “Smile.” I have to reiterate—my Boris listening experience doesn’t go as far back as it should, but regardless of past comparisons, “Smile” could be the best record yet. I’ve been tantalized by the press stream-only link to the whole album, going back to listen again and again.
Just when everyone thought Boris had nothing new to say, the great noise deconstruction that is its discography has been gloriously putrefied again. If you’ll allow a rock analogy to Radiohead, Boris has skipped innovative release tactics in favor of innovative additions to their perpetually hard core. Sounds of hair metal, Japanese cartoon songs, and ’80s Japanese pop singers all find their way into “Smile.” Like any band so in control of their sound, these influences rarely seem forced.
The album comes out in a few weeks, and features Michio Kurihara and Stephen O’Malley as guest musicians. It’s useless to try to make a generalization about the band’s formal trajectory from “Absolutego” to “Smile,” but I will say that Boris has abandoned the massive stagnancy of early work in favor of surprisingly concise sections. As someone with a fetish for parts short and sweet, “Smile” is wondrously detailed, hardly rushed record.
Moments of intense grindcore drumming crack in between calm strumming, a jagged and denser version of Fiery Furnaces’ restlessness. Vocals float over intense distortion with the effortlessness of “Loveless,” a track from the album, and find a beautiful balance between comprehensibility and noise.
So when this album hits the shelves in just a few weeks, I do hope that fans sense some twinge of continuity in this tumult of sound. Try and think of the last innovative band that still respects and draws from its early work. Not Radiohead, that’s for sure. By staunchly pushing forward on each album, no matter who’s looking, Boris has abrasively etched itself in the tablets of musical greatness.
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