It’s not often you stumble upon an album quite like this one. A huge debt of thanks goes out to a fellow reader, Francis, for sharing Kazutoki Umezu’s Diva with me (the first of two, from him, I’ll share with you). I’m still grinning from end to end just looking at the credits of this album: Midori Takada, Ichiko Hashimoto, and Reichi, on an album that won’t appear in their respective discographies online (another good reason to never just rely on Discogs for your info!). A one off band featuring a truly pioneering group of Japanese female musicians, Diva must have meant something to all involved.
At first, I was struck by how different it sounded compared to Kazutoki Umezu’s more known work with the Doctor Umezu Band. If James Chance had a parallel brother it would be in the work of Kazutoki’s D.U.B. band. Diva was different though, it didn’t seem tied to much of the Western free jazz music Kazutoki had been exploring. This music is just appreciatively different. Diva was a brilliant testament to the kind of character reed player Kazutoki always seemed to be. Unyielding in his quest to be flexible to all sorts of music and styles, Kazutoki convinced this crew of women to help him capture Japanese Jazz music that had a divine feminine energy.
Since the mid ‘70s, Kazutoki had studied and performed music abroad, in New York City. Far from his roots in Sendai, Kazutoki would spread outward working with musicians as diverse as John Zorn, Lester Bowie of the Art Ensemble of Chicago, and influential Free Jazz drummer Sunny Murray. In Japan, in the ‘80s, he’d come back to work with rock groups like RC Succession, Acid Mothers Temple and his own free jazz groups under Umezu umbrella. You wouldn’t be hard-pressed to consider him a big name in the avantgarde world just by this knowledge alone. However, his own solo work was different.
Under his own name, Kazutoki would go inward, trying to bridge the gap between his Japanese roots and the untethered free jazz he had explored with others. Hitching his wagons to two artists like Midori Takada and Coloured Music’s Ichiko Hashimoto presented them with a way to combine all their experimentation together, in a way that even a non-Jazz head could get into. His name may come up on the cover, but as the group DIVA (no matter how short-lived it was), with all these other musicians was formidable.
I won’t waste your time trying to describe the whole album, since nothing reads worse than trying to get into the headspace of a jazz music critic. I’ll let you get to actually hearing the album. Featuring, of all things, music that sounds like Japanese New Age as put through the improvisatory Jazz filter. The lilting soft, naivety of what sounds like a recorded practice of the crew assembled, in the titular track, really serves to put you in that scene. Recorded, in 1988, at the tail end of all their more known, experimental work, it shows that they all had far more in the tank than they let on.
The sheer scope of the production is mind-boggling. Kazutoki would overdub and multi-track a plethora of sax and clarinet parts. Midori adopts a far heavier tone than she was known in other works, all the while bringing all sorts of unplaceable percussion she had little chance like, in other recordings. Ichiko brings her gorgeous vocals and a floating sense of melodicism, via her keyboard and piano arrangements, on music that recalls her earlier, more experimental period. Reichi pounds away like she’s ready for a gig with ‘80s King Crimson. The energy Kazutoki was looking for must have been surprisingly more powerful than he imagined…and that’s all on one track “Nishibi no Ataru Heya”.
But what about the Manhattan Transfer, on a bender, blues of “Hinobashi No Tamoto”? Well, if it wasn’t next to ungodly good tracks like “Poi”, a track like this would be even more memorable. “Poi”, for one, features the gorgeous atmosphere of Midori’s Through the Looking Glass phase going through an ambient Jazz evolution where the soul of John Coltrane isn’t that far off. Simply gorgeous. It’s a dramatic ascension that could only have been created with such a group, feeling it, together. Somehow, that atmosphere finds a way to mutate into far more jubilant flair, on songs like “Gosan” and “Ohayashi” (I have questions: was Gentle Giant on the mind of Ichiko here?). If ever you wanted to hear Midori, Ichiko, and Kazutoki deconstruct the ethos of New Orleans Jazz, man do they do that, here.
I could go on and on, but simply listen to the cut above: “Down Wind (Kazashimo)” and tell me the rest of Diva isn’t worth your time — trust me, it truly is. It’s the stuff that makes you want to go back to re-listen to Ichiko’s oeuvre. You may have slept on other things before, but surely, you don’t want sleep on this one.