Nagamaztu – Igniting the Corpse LP
1991; a heady year. The Zero issue of Music From The Empty Quarter hit doormats as a resurgence of interest in the grey areas of Electronics, Industrial and general weirdness gained some momentum AND Nagamatzu released what was to be their swansong, the seven-track Igniting The Corpse cassette. Though sadly, soon after the creative pairing of Stephen Jarvis and Andrew Lagowski parted ways, with the latter half since establishing himself as a staple for all that is quality in the field of electronica and stellar soundwork.
Rewind further though. To 1981. Our two like-minds decided it was high-time to feed a love of post punk industrial noise into a cross-breeding of machines, organics in the form of guitar and bass and mould responses into driven, ever-revolving soundtracks of their own. A forging partnership was born and for ten years they garnered a following. Sadly never reaching that ‘breakthrough’ moment, the reason purely being that not enough people bothered to listen. Thankfully we all get another opportunity to hear this important set of UK electronic compositions through this hunky slab of red vinyl on the band’s own resurrected Motorcade imprint…
First to note is the crystalline production and through the aid of a top-notch pressing they’ve upped the bass for a positive tremor-pleasure-ride. From the opening ‘Malaria’ the listener is on a journey brimming with rhythmic forward motion, richly dark precision synthetics aided-and-abetted by effected voice phrases and cut-ups. Trace histories of Cabaret Voltaire and Clock DVA could be examined but in reality Nagamatzu’s re-arranged underworld vision is a sound apart. Bizarrely for me, until now I hadn’t noticed a partial resemblance to Solar Enemy-era Portion Control on the tracks ‘Quietus’ and ‘Legion’; both intensely menacing, yet subtle and precise there are no billowing exploits of noise just a constant threat of mass absorption. ‘Corabella’ and ‘Strain’ contain dense, overwhelming percussion-work and cavernous textured tones but it’s the final ‘Threshold’ which is one hell of an epitaph. Sparse bursts of sound and blunt-stabbing synths tear their way through a disturbing hellish void… And, after.., Nagamatzu were no more.
Translucent red vinyl LP re-issue of the album first released on cassette only in 1991. Each copy includes a limited edition, numbered screen print by Vii Sins. All vinyl copies include free digital download code.