Christoph Berg

Today the wonderful Fluid Radio highlights the ‘31 songs for Japan’ by flau.

On Friday, March 11, 2011, the east coast of Japan suffered a massive earthquake. The slip amplitude (that is, the amount the Pacific plate moved in relation to the North American plate) is estimated to have been as high as 40 meters. The 9.0 temblor was 500 times as powerful as the Haiti earthquake last year, literally shortening the length of the day by shifting the earth 10cm from its rotational axis. The related tsunami flooded roads, airports, entire towns, killing refugees at designated earthquake evacuation sites, and causing power failure at the Fukushima I Nuclear Power Plant. In some cases, anecdotes are all that remain, those both heartbreakingly small and incomprehensibly large. We read of the woman who vainly clung to her daughter’s hand as they were swept out to sea, battered by saltwater and debris. And we followed the deterioration at Fukushima Daiichi on Twitter, 140 agonizing characters at a time.

The data are staggering: 15,000 dead, 9,000 missing, and 500,000 displaced. More than 4.4 million homes were left without electricity, and 1.5 million without water. Yet charitable giving to Japan lags behind our responses to similar disasters, if indeed there is such a thing as a similar disaster. Surely those who have already given money, time, blood and food can relate nevertheless: Japan is an economic, technological, and cultural heavyweight, leading the world in such diverse metrics as installed solar power capacity and automotive production. And life expectancy.

Japan will survive, but it should not have to merely survive. Those affected by the disaster need financial help, and the relief workers need resources. This is where we come in.

Tokyo-based flau records (which carries releases by Colophon and Part Timer, to name only two) has produced an exceptional compilation of 31 artists, the proceeds of which will benefit the Japanese Red Cross Society directly. Founded in 1877, the Japanese Red Cross is a member of the IFRC, and boasts nearly 12 million members. Within five hours of the Honshu earthquake, JRCS had set up an operational center and dispatched over a dozen medical teams. As of May 23, it had mobilised over 600 more medical teams, who have treated over 63,000 patients. JRCS has distributed 10,000 appliance packages to displaced families, and disbursed JPY 70 billion in donations. These are the relief efforts that 31 Songs For Japan will help to fund.

The compilation would be big news irrespective of any charitable intent: 31 artists, 144 minutes of music, including names like Christoph Berg, Sylvain Chauveau and F.S. Blumm. Most of the material is previously unreleased, and a few cuts seem to have been composed specifically for this project. Curator Yasuhiko Fukuzono describes flau records as a “community of artists with a particular affection for fragile arrangements and microscopic songwriting,” and this is a fitting introduction to the collection. Tracks such as “Nubes e insectos reflejados en un estanque” (Federico Durand), “Lux Aeterna” (Sons Of Magdalene) and the “Kentmere” demo (The Declining Winter) are delicate, breakable, respectfully hushed.

Other tracks tend more toward pioneering, for example Kira Kira’s “Leave A Light On,” the liner notes for which are more descriptive than any well-placed adjective or two: “Recorded in Ulappa, Hladan, in Pekka Kuusisto’s living room, at Nils Frahm’s place, in Heikki Nikula’s studio and in Trelleborg.” Those seeking the bolder, more innovative works might also try the 10 minutes of semi-industrial stillness “Heceta Final,” by Pimmon. Other contributions are downright ravishing (“Moving Slow” by Hauschka and “Lament,” by Danny Norbury), but two seem to most agree with the themes of recovery, rebuilding, and hope. The first of these is “Semuin-Themes,” by Taunus, a pastel exploration of piano and processing, with intermittent acoustic guitar research. Try also “Dewey Raindrops,” a brief and optimistic guitar composition, textured with AM radio hues and — as instrumental works go — remarkably literal. Those familiar with Christoph Berg’s work as Field Rotation will note a clean departure from Acoustic Tales: his contribution “Notturno” is simple and bittersweet, seasoned with restraint. If nocturnes are meant to evoke the night, this three-minute piece certainly evokes the prolonged, unwanted darkness that has fallen on Japan.

Here are over two hours of music, from some well-established names and some newcomers. The material is finespun, at times altogether conventional, and — on at least one occasion — convincingly jazzy. The artists have done all of the work. Here is all you need to do to help: continue as you were. Just buy, and listen.

- Review by Fred Nolan for Fluid Radio

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