Review Summary: A 50/50 split between noise and powerviolence, Kuroi Jukai's debut release is an unrelenting assault on the ears.
Throughout recorded history, the element of death has always proved to be a constant cause of interest to human beings. In Middle Ages Europe the depiction of death in art and literature was common, not least because of its omnipresence in people's lives through pestilence, famine and war. The Victorians for all of their reknowned prudishness surrounding sex were obsessed with death, shown through their elaborate and systematic mourning rituals and exhibitions of medical paraphernalia. Perhaps it is this innate interest in the horrifying that causes bands such as Kuroi Jukai to hold some kind of appeal. Naming themselves after the Japanese 'Suicide Forest' (also known as Aokigahara), Kuroi Jukai make this connotation to death their main point of visual contact towards the audience - very little is known about them, other than they're Canadian - and when attached to their visceral brand of powerviolence mixed with harsh noise, they create a morbid curiosity all of their own.
Bursting from the first few seconds of feedback into a frenzy of heavily distorted riffs, blast beats and obnoxious screams, opener 'I' is a very immediate, telling reference point to one facet of the Canadians' sound. At some stages over the first three tracks (which total a miniscule 128 seconds in all), the only discernible sounds are the ping of the snare and the vocals just about tearing through the wall of noise from the guitars and bass. This is, however, not their strict modus operandi. During the third track (thoughtfully titled III),
Kuroi Jukai mutates. Starting with a warp not unlike that found in science fiction, the track slowly turns (whilst seguing into 'IV') into a power electronics wall, writhing and stuttering for 2 or so minutes before eventually returning to business as usual. Whilst not particularly abrasive - this is no Vomir - the contrast and development of this is an interesting addition to the almost absurd aggression delivered from the start. It's this willingness to experiment that gives Kuroi Jukai the potential of producing something truly amazing.
Unfortunately, it's this willingness to experiment that proves to be the main issue with
Kuroi Jukai, namely on the closing track, 'XI'. While not a problem in itself - they opt for a much harsher angle than with III and IV, developed by a much coarser wall and less 'bleeping' - it feels somewhat extraneous to the flow of the album, tacked on to the end of the grindcore-esque 'X' without actually being built into in any way. It's a shame, as despite it's an interesting track by itself, it takes up nearly a third of the running time and could have been much better implemented, either in a different part of the album or perhaps on another entirely. Despite this, at just over 7 minutes the previous 10 tracks move along at a blistering pace, and despite their utterly unrelenting nature prove to be as satisfying as they are impenetrable.
The Japanese 'Kuroi Jukai' is a place of quiet, drawn out reflection on the value of life as it is for some (it is said that the trees are so dense in parts that you can only hear the sounds of the forest). This seems to be the complete anthesis of that; a short yet undeniably truculent effort that only offers the chance for reflection at its end. Their experimentation leaves them slightly unstuck at the end, yet ultimately this is a highly enjoyable powerviolence record with enough balls to keep it afloat.
