Fuji Yuki, Harutaka Mochizuki, Michel Henritzi – Shiroi Kao 白い顔
Fuji Yuki, Harutaka Mochizuki, Michel Henritzi – Shiroi Kao 白い顔

Fuji Yuki, Harutaka Mochizuki, Michel Henritzi – Shiroi Kao 白い顔

Regular price £16.00 Sale

Label: An'archives – [An'15]
Series: Free Wind Mood
Format: CD, Album, Limited Edition
Country: France
Released: 2018
Genre: Rock
Style: Avantgarde


Winter record, flowers and snowflakes. Here is the blue sky into which the breath evaporates and kisses the white clouds, the crystal voice and the brass notes will fall like a wet snow on a long gone time, something vanished and still…

The breathing of the voice and the alto sax, sonic calligraphies drawn onto the white page of silence, scratched by the strings of a melancholic lapsteel. Ascending curves and whirls, calling the storm out.

Something cries, an alto on the edge of the abyss, you don’t give up on what haunts you, it summons you, holds you at the end of a rope. Harutaka Mochizuki is almost asphyxiated, listen to him !

He plays sad phrases on this tombstone, this wall of noise. The deafening sound of tears and heart, all of this flowing into the estuary, the bell overflown by lean notes, chrysanthemum petals, shrillness, mufflings.

Then, a voice that seems to arise from other times, Fuji Yuki, floating ectoplasm in the whisper of dusk, taking our hand onto her heart, her song of infinite melancholy, her long black hair cloaking her, escaping from the soil that holds us back.

She floats, like a drowned Ophelia, like a female spirit winding towards a relieved melody. Bowed strings, a net of silk and rust wrapping around her voice, and faraway, clouds drift.

The floating body remains, pale face, infinite landscape, devouring shadows spreading. Ancient folk songs played for this forgotten dance, on percussive strings, plaintive glissandi.

A distant banjo recalls the peat of existence. Was it you, these voices ? Sax will come back into the circle dance, the voice kills, tuning to the lapsteel in a broken mirror play, two soliloquies heard through a smog of sadness, with dusk calling us to merge with our shadows.

Michel Henritzi assis dans l’antichambre face à ce visage blanc silencieux, la barre glissant sur les cordes, les notes mourant avec le souffle du sax. Un feedback qui meurt ou est-ce nos pleurs …

Michel Henritzi, sitting in the antechamber in front of this white silent face, the bar sliding across the strings, notes dying in the sax breath. A feedback loop dying, or is it our sobs ?

1 Harutaka Mochizuki & Michel Henritzi– Naki Tsuma No Kushi 10:12
2 Fuji Yuki & Michel Henritzi– Ano Koe Anata Datta No 10:08
3 Fuji Yuki & Michel Henritzi– We Turn In The Night Endless 10:35
4 Harutaka Mochizuki & Michel Henritzi– Tsuki No Kage 8:36