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tolerance-anonym lp (no label)

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tolerance: anonym

"Yikes! This is not a record: it's a ticket pressed in 12" format to get the f- outta this modern era of derivative nonsense in no time flat and get shotgun-expressed into a eerie world of risk taking/PHD-styled lessons in underground experimental extravagance par excellence. Yuzuru Agi's Vanity label delivers the same spinal-tingle-stun-upon-utterance with the same sting as heavyweight/uber strange underground labels like Artifacts, Silver Key, Yetti Wordless, Palace of Lights, Plat-Num Productions, or the gem of Florida's rotten improv scene Spitball Records. Vanity is the sounds in the wild that will exist w/o an audience and make NADA sense, and even less as the flat circle of time moves onward to the future. Even being a major critic in the 'Rock Magazine' and coining the words 'Techno Pop' -- the addictive & lustful Agi's Vanity world has is a hushed jewel in the big-cash phallic swinging underground detectives-types. Reissues are scarce -- the 'boot' of the second Tolerance LP from a couple years ago came and went w/o much of a ceremony -- but this debut (the fourth release of the label landing on 1979) by the Masami Yoshikawa & Junko (no that JUNKO silly willy) Tange is a more wild, varied and EXPERIMENTAL slab to grind on and all the better for it. What lies inside? Lots of nearly ECM-ish acoustic flourishes over effected guitar no wave-ish (scratch that lets say the more equivalent to Japan's own voice-grated guitar duo NOISE-ish) stew of things, sounding more like random Dada-esque experiments in texture and rhythm in a sleek urban-mystery cannon that really makes your brow take some kinda action. It sounds more akin to a Dilaudid-dosed Keith Jarrett trying his best to play along to some crude Thomas Brinkmann record cutting-beat discs, while Law & Order's Brisco and Logan aggressively questioning a dog that swallowed a guitar played by a barbwire criminal (cause 'I WANNA BE A HOMICIDE too@!!') harrowing away in a distant concrete slab. Might as well have Murakami's crew of suave editors from 1Q84 transcribe the unholy soundtrack from Japanese to whatever language your ears need it to be, all while standing in the 'sweet water' that Elisa Lam's decomposing body sunk into it from days lost hidden and rotting in a rooftop hotel pool. Who DOESN'T want to hear that?? The Tolerance debut is just plain O.D.D. = Occidental Dome-Damaged. All said and done, this is from a golden day where risks were taken and experimental music stroked the esoteric exotic fires of danger and lust, all while basking in the outsider glow of idiosyncratic glee. Take chances and be yourself, the evidence is all right here persevered for in the confusing grooves of Anonym. Take it from this VAIN JIT -- it's about the best time you are spend getting 'real' -- REAL STRANGE. And that is R.A.R.E. = Recycled Assumptions Re-Qualified as Extraterrestrials." --John Olson, last minutes of 2014, winter

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