by RUPERT BOTTENBERG
translation by ALAN CUMMINGS

At first glance, you might take Japan's Acid Mothers Temple (full name: Acid Mothers Temple and the Melting Paraiso UFO - the latter for Underground Freak Out) for a musty throwback to the heady Haight-Ashbury daze of the psychedelic '60s. An extended "family" of wild-haired, wizard-garbed weirdoes doing the commune thing, churning out records with eye-scorching, solarized covers and titles like Absolutely Freak Out, Electric Heavyland and St. Captain Freak Out and the Magic Bamboo Request.

But this ain't your parents' psychedelia. No incense and peppermints and purple hazy shady business here. Since '96, Osaka native Kawabata Makoto and his expansive amalgamation of musicians, misfits, freaks and seekers have been exploring the far frontiers of transcendental trip music - mesmerizing drones and abrasive noise explosions, gentle folk motifs and space-age electronics. AMT and its myriad offshoots have released countless records, including discs on Montreal's Alien8 label (home to more and more psychedelic acts these days), and have built an international rep. With the core quartet of AMT set to materialize at FIMAV this year, the Mirror "climbed the mountain," so to speak, to borrow a little cosmic wisdom for Kawabata.

Mirror: I find it interesting that you are often asked in interviews to be a sort of representative for Japanese culture. However, your choice of the communal lifestyle, one that is self-defined and sets its own rules, suggests that you feel somewhat separate from that culture. What are your feelings on this?

Kawabata Makoto: The AMT way of life is a bit like that of the old Japanese outcast class, the hinin, who were also known as riverbank beggars. While we are constrained by many Japanese customs, there is also a special kind of freedom we gain by choosing to live at the very bottom of society. It is also true that by choosing this kind of freedom we have had to lose social trust from others. However, I believe that we are more conservative than "normal" Japanese and we are much more concerned with preserving the aesthetic sense that Japanese once possessed. Basically, it has to do with an internal balance. At heart we are not Westernized, nor can we become so. To begin with, we are unable to eat bread, cheese or ham, so we cannot even follow a Western diet. But this whole idea of classifying people as Eastern or Western is really meaningless. All that matters is, "This is where I was born, and this is where I am." How much of an actual problem is this supposed difference between East and West? Of course blood is blood, and one's values probably depend on the environment one was brought up in. But apart from that, when people meet, all of those differences become of no matter.

M: Communes, cults and self-created cultures are often perceived by the larger culture around them as crazy and even dangerous. Sometimes, it seems, the larger culture is right, as with the Branch Davidians in Waco, Texas, or the Aum Shinrikyo in Japan.

KM: We are dropouts from society, useless dregs who make no contribution, so it is inevitable that people will look at us strangely and with contempt. But people like those who joined Aum, who let their resentment fester to such a degree that they go beyond all notions of common sense - they're just twisted, right? We are very aware of our position at the bottom of society, and we use this awareness to make sure we do what we must do.

Listen to the sounds of the moon

M: You have remarked that mind-altering drugs offer only a hint of the transcendental experience that many people seek by using them. They only take you to the door, not through it. What, in your opinion, lies on the other side of that door?

KM: Maybe you can call it the universal principle. It's impossible to explain, but it is a principle so "absolute" that it is even beyond the need of verbal explication.

M: I've noticed many times how music that is intended to have a psychedelic effect, usually by employing the boring and familiar psychedelic devices, fails to make me trip out in any way. On the other hand, much music - or film or TV or whatever - that's supposed to be very grounded and ordinary can often be extremely bizarre and freaked out.

KM: What is a psychedelic effect? That in itself is an illusion, a fabrication deliberately created. What I am seeking is an "absolute musical vibration," not some specious experience like "psychedelic" background music. AMT may on the surface appear to take the form of a psychedelic rock band, but that is no more than a guide to make our purpose easier to understand. Even among sounds that have not been created as music, the sounds of the natural environment for example, there are many that possess this "vibration." Have you ever tried listening to the sounds of the moon? More often than not, you must mistrust the kind of music created by people who are high and in which state sounds easy on their ears.

M: One type of music that seems to have truly touched your heart, mind and soul - but that was never intended as psychedelic drug music - is the traditional music of the Occitan culture of France. In fact, it informs your new record Mantra of Love. How did you discover this music, and what did you find in it?

KM: Put simply, I love music that is beautiful. Which is why my favourite music is that made by troubadours. There is something ineffably beautiful about the voices and ensembles in that music. The bassist in AMT, Atsushi Tsuyama, taught me that the roots of troubadour music are found in the Occitan region of France. Tsuyama is well known in Japan for his encyclopaedic knowledge of European trad music. As I see it, in Occitan trad music we can catch fleeting glimpses of extreme melodies, and the power of song demonstrated in this music carries a far greater weight than in other musics. This truly is the music of the heavens. Recently I have become fascinated by the music of Sardinia. If Occitan music is the sound of heaven, then Sardinian music is the sound of the earth.

Cosmic curiosity

M: The drone is an important element in your music. I recognize the effect that a droning sound, particularly a pleasant, harmonious one, can have on a listener. In your opinion, what is the power of the drone?

KM: I wonder. There are lots of stories about the holy sound of "om," and the drone exists in almost every traditional music in the world. Maybe it is because in drones, human beings have always felt the sound of nature? The reason why I dislike so much post-Baroque classical music is that it reduces as far as possible the drone and noise elements. Both drones and noise are essential elements in music.

M: In Berlin in 1998, you collaborated with the computer graphics team from NASA. What was that experience like?

KM: This was a long time ago and my memory is hazy, but I think it was an improvised collaboration and the graphics were manipulated in real time. I suppose it was the kind of collaboration you see all the time. I am probably just not that interested in the combination of sound and visual effects. Sound by itself can provoke unique images in the mind of each person who listens, so is there any real need for us to provide a limited and concrete set of images for them?

M: Outer space, the cosmos, is a central element of what is regarded as psychedelic music. What do you think is the power that the cosmos commands over our imaginations?

KM: Since outer space is close at hand but untouchable, its truth unknowable, from the moment we are born, I suppose that is why our interest in it never wanes and why it inspires our imagination. Why do we choose to represent the sound of space with high-pitched electronic sounds? For what reason do we think that sound fits best? Even if that idea originated in films, why does no one ever challenge it? Perhaps because there is some fragment of truth in it?

M: What is your favourite colour, and why?

KM: Black. Because it can't be dyed any other colour.

At Festival International de Musique Actuelle de Victoriaville, Colisée des Bois-Francs, on Friday, May 21, 10pm, $28

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