Nice Opening, Duchamp

Byron Coley on Damon & Naomi with Ghost

Twenty-five years ago this week, the Tokyo band Ghost came to our home and we recorded an album together in the living room.

When Sub Pop released the album on CD (Drag City pressed the LP cause Sub Pop wasn’t making vinyl then, what a time it was!), they hired Byron Coley to write the bio and track notes. These texts seem tailor-made for a publication called Dada Drummer Almanach so I’m resharing them here in honor of the anniversary.

The album, digitally speaking, is currently free/pay-as-you-wish on Bandcamp. Enjoy — and Happy New Year!

Six Methods of Approaching Damon & Naomi with Ghost

by Byron Coley

Chapter One

Who are Damon & Naomi? If this once we were to rely on previous reviews of their music, then perhaps everything would amount to knowing which writers they “haunt.” We must admit that this last word is irritating, tending to establish between certain listeners and the band relations that are stranger, more inescapable, more disturbing than intended. Such a word means much more than it says, makes Damon & Naomi, still very much alive, still very much Massachusetts-based, play a ghostly part, evidently referring to what they must have ceased to be in order to be who they are. Hardly distorted in this sense, the word suggests that what we regard as the objective, more or less deliberate recordings of their career are merely the premises, within the limits of this career, of activities whose true extent is quite unknown to us. Our image of the “ghost” is mutable, in this instance, including everything conventional about its appearance as well as its blind submission to certain contingencies of time and place, and is particularly significant for us as the finite representation of a Japanese cult whose sound may be that of eternity. Perhaps the music on this album is nothing but an image of this kind; perhaps it is the syncretic coalescence between a certain type of American intelligence and a certain type of Japanese instinctual creation; perhaps we are doomed to retrace its steps under the illusion that we are exploring, doomed to try and learn what we should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what they have forgotten.

We envy (in a manner of speaking) any musician who has the time to prepare something as giftedly worldly as Damon & Naomi with Ghost and who, having reached its end, finds the means to be interested in its fate or in the fate which, after all, it creates. If only the musicians would let us! Damon & Naomi (& Ghost) have disregarded the chance, and we might hope they would do us the honor of saying why. What we might be tempted to undertake in the long run will all too certainly make us unworthy of life as we prefer it and as it offers itself: a life out of the running.

Chapter Two

Damon & Naomi — the band — was months into the afterlife of the Galaxie 500 experiment when they were born in 1991 as Pierre Etoile (the 21st century was (-8) years old).

At this age, which they have since retained, Damon & Naomi are a band of exquisite taste, or, to be absolutely accurate, of (8 x 1010 + 109 + 4 x 108 + 5 x 106) atomic surrealist units; with a wonderful literary lilt, and an instrumental presence that glows like radiant coral. Their faces are clean-shaven, apart from a few sea-green mustachios, as worn by king Ubu; the hairs of their heads alternately dusk blonde and Bordeaux red, an ambiguity changing according to Versailles’ position; their eyes, four expanding orbs of Beefheart’s million miles.

Ghost — the cult — was four years into the new dawn of the Japanese psychedelia experiment when they were born in 1988 (the 21st century was (-12) years old).

At this age, which they have since retained, Ghost is a cult with diabolic acid-folk potential, or, to be absolutely accurate, of (6 x 2525 + 69 + 7 x 11 + 12 x 12) psychedelic diameters; with several floating and rotational members and 6 albums: Ghost, Second Time Around, Temple Stone, Lama Rabi Rabi, Snuffbox Immanence, Tune In Turn On Free Tibet, all on Drag City. Their faces are clean-shaven, apart from a few sky-blue mustachios, as secretly worn by king Batoh; the hairs of their heads alternately platinum blonde and jet black, an ambiguity changing according to the pyramids’ position; their eyes, swirling capsules of delicious pharmaceuticals flecked with golden apples from Blake’s sun.

Chapter Three

An Artist must regulate his or her life.

This is the precise daily timetable of the recording of Damon & Naomi with Ghost, for the six days that the Japanese cult, Ghost, visited Cambridge for the session.

They rose: at 07.18; inspired: from 10.23 to 11.47. They lunched at 12.11 and left the table at 12.14.

Constitutional ride around the Twisted Village: from 13.19 to 13.23. Further inspiration: from 13.42 to 16.07.

Various activities (fuzzbox shopping, reflection, reading, acupuncture practice, meditation, manifesto-writing, etc.): from 16.21 to 18.47.

Dinner was served at 19.16 and ended at 19.20. Followed by more recording: from 20.09 to 05.07.

They retired with regularity at 05.37. Once, they woke up with a start at 06.19 (on Tuesday).

They ate only white victuals: eggs, sugarcubes, grated parmesan; salt, coconuts, roast turkey; fruit mould, rice, turnips; pasta, cheese (cream), cotton salad and certain kinds of fish (without the skin).

They had their absinthe boiled, and drank it cold with champagne. They are hearty eaters; but never spoke while eating, for fear of strangling.

They breathed with care (a little at a time). They very rarely danced in the presence of Billy Ruane. When walking through Harvard Square, they held their sides, and stared fixedly behind each other. They looked very serious, and if they laughed, it was never on purpose. They always apologized, and did so most affably. They slept with only eye closed; they slept very hard. Their beds were round, with holes to put their heads through. Every hour an intern took their temperatures and gave them a new one.

They have subscribed for many years to a futurist magazine. They wore white porcelain cones, white veal stockings, and black metal waistcoats. Their doctor has always told them to smoke Galloises. He added to his advice:

“You should smoke Galloises, my friends: for if you don’t, someone else will smoke Galloises in your place.”

Chapter Four

So strong is Damon & Naomi’s belief in life, in what is most fragile in life — real life, I mean — that in the end this belief is lost. Damon & Naomi, those inveterate dreamers, daily more discontent with their destinies, have trouble assessing the recordings they have been led to produce — Pierre Etoile EP (Rough Trade UK ’91 / Elefant ’97), More Sad Hits (Shimmy Disc ’92 / Sub Pop ’97), The Wondrous World of Damon & Naomi (Sub Pop ’95), Playback Singers (Sub Pop ’98) — objects that their nonchalance has brought their way, or that they have recorded through their own efforts, almost always through their own efforts, for they have agreed to work, at least they have not refused to try their luck (or what they call their luck!). At this point they feel extremely modest: they know what songs they have recorded, what live shows they have been involved in; they are unimpressed by their record collection or lack thereof, in this respect they are still two newborn babes and, as for the approval of their consciences, we confess that they do very nicely without it. If they still retain a certain lucidity, all they can do is turn back toward their childhoods which, however their guides and mentors may have botched it, still strikes them as somehow charming. There, the absence of any known restrictions allows them the perspective of several lives lived at once; this illusion becomes firmly rooted within them; now they are only interested in the fleeting, the extreme facility of everything. Children set off each day without a worry in the world. Everything is near at hand, the worst material conditions are fine. The woods are white or black, one will never sleep.

Chapter Five

Prisoners of Damon & Naomi with Ghost, we sing the songs of everlasting animals. We run about the noiseless towns and the enchanted posters no longer touch us. What’s the good of great fragile fits of enthusiasm such as “Tanka,” these jaded jumps of joy like “Judah & the Maccabees”? We know nothing any more but the dead stars; we gaze at Damon & Naomi’s faces; and we gasp with pleasure. Our mouths are dry as the lost beaches, and our eyes turn aimlessly and as without hope as “I Dreamed of the Caucasus.” Now all that remain of our former haunted memories are these goddamn yuppie cafés where we meet to drink these cool drinks, these diluted spirits, and the tables are stickier than the pavements where our shadows of the day before have fallen.

Chapter Six

If you find *, your time will become excellent because * has enough raw beauty and intelligence to get giddiness from any sister. However, even * should be enjoyed as an autonomous object, rather than the fourth full album by Damon & Naomi. This is because, with *, they have avoided frequency, meaning mother-in-law. The supple airs of * will call to you as though wafting from the dead lungs of John Phillips, drowning in an ocean of hair as Cass Elliot prances forward with a gallon jug of lysergic purity. * stamps out a certain multiplicity of spirit through its seamlessness and the courtly manner with which the sharpness of its arguments are swathed in surreal gauze. As soon as * appears on your stereo, a great many chords will refuse to pronounce themselves. Around *’s wire people will be able to sweeten their own rugs, that is to say, why must we look for wives when they are here, on *, as songs? Pushing four dangers near to your listening-place, * is a vacation that requires neither digging nor eating.

Replace each * with the words: Damon & Naomi with Ghost

Sources: Chapter One, André Breton; Chapter Two, Alfred Jarry; Chapter Three, Erik Satie; Chapter Four, André Breton; Chapter Five, André Breton and Philippe Soupault; Chapter Six, Marcel Duchamp. Technical assistance: Marc Lowenthal

Tracking Damon & Naomi with Ghost

1. The Mirror Phase

A stance copped from Ike and Tina’s gun battle with Phil Spector, minus the pomade and actual aggression. Well, maybe the aggression’s there somewhere, but only if you view it as smoke-filled reflection of overt tenderness. Batoh added the break, capturing the title phrase’s spatial identifiers.

2. The New World

An evocation of Fairport Convention visiting the most holy shrine in Japan. Batoh wrote the music, Naomi wrote the lyrics, and the sample of chanting monks was chosen because of its specific placement in the folds of temporal otherness.

3. Judah & the Maccabees

Judah Maccabee led an uprising in ancient Israel, recapturing the Temple for the Jews. Damon says, “The song was physically inspired by renovations to the new Exact Change office, in the course of which we did a lot of poking into formerly closed up spaces. That connected to something haunting I saw at the Tenement Museum on the Lower East Side — walled up spaces — and a metaphoric connection to my family’s history. We’re hoping for heavy rotation on Tel Aviv soft rock radio.”

4. Blue Moon

This Alex Chilton song from the sessions for the third Big Star album has long been part of Damon & Naomi’s live set. Ghost decided it should sound like a child’s lullaby. Ogino played a toy glockenspiel.

5. The Great Wall

The function of objects created outside of our cultural referents is always mysterious, but Kafka postulated that The Great Wall was the first truly secure foundation for a new Tower of Babel. The end portion of this Great Wall was designed as a secure foundation for Kurihara’s guitar “thing.”

6. I Dreamed of the Caucasus

Cicero once wrote of a dream in which Africanus told Scipio that his fame would never traverse the Caucasus. Millennia later, in the frozen dream time of Werner Herzog, we became aware that Florian Fricke was probably unfit for military service, although Kaspar Hauser’s father was not. Go figure.

7. Don’t Forget

Jack Hirschman wrote, “I thought I saw cathedrals of fire/I thought I saw dachaus of fire.” Here, Batoh and Damon fingerpick acoustic guitar fires in tandem. Elsewhere, for the most part, Damon was strumming and Batoh picking.

8. Tanka

The lyrics define
The tanka’s reflective form
While Kuri plays fuzz
And Ogino fuzzes keys
For Batoh’s feet to pedal

9. Eulogy to Lenny Bruce

When Tim Hardin recorded this track himself, he called it “Lenny’s Tune.” But Ghost chose this cover, and they wanted Naomi to sing it using the approach Nico had employed when she sang it on Chelsea Girl. Hence, the title follows hers rather than his. But, by now, you certainly sensed that.

Nice opening, Duchamp.