Neither overtly psychedelic like Ghost or Acid Mothers Temple nor as abrasive as the Boredoms, Xinlisupreme occupy a unique territory within experimental Japanese rock. On their singles and full-length debut, Tomorrow Never Comes, they mix noise, melody, and electronic and organic textures in a way that recalls not just the Boredoms but Sonic Youth, Suicide, My Bloody Valentine, and a host of other innovators, but remains distinctive. Tomorrow Never Comes showcases all the different facets of Xinlisupreme's style, spanning the techno-dread of "Goodbye for All"'s stiff, mechanical drums and ominous synths and the strangely cheerful "Kyoro," a brisk instrumental wrapped in sandpapery layers of distorted drums and guitars, within its first two tracks. Despite the album's noisy peaks and valleys, thanks to clever mixing, the warm production and judicious use of musical textures, the overall effect of Tomorrow Never Comes is hypnotic instead of irritating. It's also a remarkably well-balanced album, with outbursts such as "Suzu" and "Untitled" balanced by eerie, implosive tracks like "Symmetry," which, with its spooky phased guitars and rattling percussion, could be the soundtrack to a very stylish, avant-garde horror film. "Fatal Sisters Opened Umbrella" has it both ways, opening with waves of brooding guitars and a hypnotic drumbeat before reaching its crashing climax. Whether loud or soft, however, each of Tomorrow Never Comes' songs feature a special attention to sonic detail: amid the thrashy guitars and crazed piano lines on "Under a Clown" a sound that resembles a knife being sharpened stands out in the mix, and on "Nameless Song" the group sounds more exotic than most world music by mixing koto, shakuhachi, and galloping percussion with a blistering guitar melody. But it may be the mysterious, but undeniable, emotional undercurrent of much of Xinlisupreme's work that makes them, and Tomorrow Never Comes, especially unique among experimental rock. The bittersweet vibe that envelops "All You Need Is Love Was Not True" makes its approachable, offbeat beauty even lovelier; the filmic "Amaryllis"' subtle keyboards, galloping drums, and chanted vocals give it a sense of loss that's more powerful because it's merely suggested. A fascinating interplay of textures, dynamics, and moods, Tomorrow Never Comes refuses to draw boundaries between rock, electronic, noise, or world music, which makes it that much more compelling.
© Heather Phares /TiVo