As Pain Jerk, Kohei Gomi made his mark in the 1990s as a titan of wild noise music to rank with the greats, such as Merzbow, Hanatarash, and Incapacitants; along with many addicts at this time, I too used to drool over obscure “Japnoise” records, but now I leave it to experts like Paul Hegarty to pick apart the many strands of that particular multi-headed Hydra explosion. Despite calling myself an addict, I find I have next to zero records by Pain Jerk in my so-called “collection”, apart from one he made with John Wiese in 2010. It’s a truism to call Pain Jerk “prolific”, and Discogs numbers at least 153 releases under his name to date.
Well, if you’ve been slaughtered or butchered by Pain Jerk records in the past, you might be surprised to learn that now he calls himself Painjerk Wracked And Ruined, and what’s more he’s since evolved into a composer of modern chamber music. Today’s record Dots Kinematics For Electronics & Chamber Orchestra Version II (CONRAD SOUND CNRD335) gives a co-credit to The Touchables, and it’s the maverick Octobass player Guro Skumsnes Moe who seems to have assembled this group of Norwegian musicians to perform this single 32:36 minute piece, scored for percussion, strings, and some computer + synth input from the composer himself. And while we’re mentioning the Norwegian connection, the six-panel wallet has artwork and design from Lasse Marhaug, himself a confirmed “noise addict” who not only flew around the world performing his own brand of intense and juicy noise, but also founded a label to further indulge his passion for it – releasing, for instance, the Incapacitants Box Is Stupid from 2009 which compiled 10 CDs of intense harshitude rescued from obscure and collectible cassettes.
Well, today’s record is of course very far from harsh noise, but it’s not exactly a comforting or reassuring event either. While it may start out with inscrutable bells and puzzling percussive blombos, odd phrases and pregnant pauses hanging there with terrible solemnity, the brew starts to liven up when the string section respond to a gesture from the conductor’s baton, and start to dish out astringent stabs as sharp as any dagger, then proceed to drip lemon juice into your wounds. There’s also some engaging moments creeping outwards from the woodwinds and brass – the bassoon of Hanne Rekdal and the contrabass clarinet of Gjertrud Pedersen doing much to curdle the milk inside your udders. Only towards the end does the listener experience a certain frisson of chaos, but it’s a very controlled chaos, taking place inside a cold room and performed by acrobats executing clown-like tumbles with the awkward precision of an academic researcher. For some reason, the “Dots” and “Kinematics” of the title had led me to expect something with a little more movement and passion, but instead I feel I’m left with a puzzling lump of organic matter in my fridge, unsure as to whether I should cook it in the oven or take it for a walk on a long leash. The composition itself however is quite clever and complex. From 23 February 2024.