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To celebrate their 10th anniversary, Japan’s Mono played a one-off show last Friday at New York’s Society for Ethical Culture. Originally, it was to be their only North American date to support their new album, Hymn to the Immortal Wind. However, it sold out, causing the addition of a second date. People traveled from far away – Washington, Alabama, North Carolina – for the show.
Hymn has a significant orchestral presence, so Mono was backed by the Wordless Music Orchestra, a new music chamber ensemble. Band + orchestra is a risky proposition – see Metallica’s S&M; (abysmal), Yngwie Malmsteen’s Concerto Suite for Electric Guitar and Orchestra (ludicrous), Dimmu Borgir’s Death Cult Armageddon (functional), Septic Flesh’s Communion (tasty). This pairing was a mixed bag.
The Society for Ethical Culture is a large, quasi-religious auditorium. (See photos of the show here.) An inscription above the stage reads, “The Place Where People Meet to Seek the Highest is Holy Ground.” However, a vendor sold alcohol. People carried cups of beer through church pews. The WMO opened by premiering a piece by slowcore composer Arvo Pärt. Their execution was fine, but the volume was low due to the ensemble’s small size (32 pieces). Also, in the dark, beer cups rattled and rolled, interrupting the somber atmosphere.
Mono’s set pushed the orchestra to the back of the stage, facing house left. The band was in front. Bassist Tamaki Kunishi was the only member standing up, though she took some turns on grand piano. Mono’s music is not technically difficult. But given its protracted nature (songs typically exceed 10 minutes in length, with extremely gradual crescendos and decrescendos), coordination with the orchestra must have been difficult. The players took cues from their conductor, who took cues from the band – any member of which could be directing the action at a given time.
Mishaps occurred not in timing (transitions between songs were smooth), but in intonation. The rhythm guitarist’s B string was often flat. It’s enough to have guitarists out of tune with each other. But with the orchestra trying to compensate while sitting next to cranked amps, perfect intonation amongst all was impossible.
Still, Mono’s music does not require precision. Their attack resembles a cloud that engulfs and recedes. In another universe, it could be black metal – emphasis on chord progressions, not riffs, with dramatic melodies and tremolo picking for days. The guitarists had a panoply of pedals, which they used to full effect. They were often both down on hands and knees, tweaking knobs. I wonder how the orchestra felt, to be playing backing fare while their rock music employers made a racket with machines. Perhaps they felt stimulated; perhaps they were just collecting paychecks.
Mono seemed to respect their employees. They were visibly pleased with some orchestral passages. Drummer Yasunori Takada often made eye contact with the conductor. Mono are a humble group. Without a vocalist, they shun populist gestures. They are often genuinely in the thrall of their own sound. It is one to evoke thrall; people cry at Mono shows. More might have done so here without the orchestra. Mono operate best unadorned, in intimacy. With big, lush strokes, the orchestra filled in Mono’s cracks. Sometimes it’s best to leave questions unanswered. The show felt oddly triumphant. Given the occasion, though, that was appropriate.
People cry at Mono shows? That’s no surprise, but still sounds strange.
they are people who obviously used to cry at emo shows in the 90s. like the cry fest in detroit or dayton in 95 if i remember correct.
When I watched the S&M; DVD, I almost cried, though not for the same reasons.
Sounds like a good time to catch up on some sleep.
Alright, you're insane for calling Metallica's S&M; "abysmal".
Very nice, Mr. Lee.
You’ve got a gift for marrying just enough metal nerd lingo with to practiced, insightful prose.