Flower Travellin' Band - Anywhere

Band: Flower Travellin' Band
Album: Anywhere
Label: Phillips
Year: 1970
Rating: 76%

Tracklist:

Side 1
1. Anywhere (Intro)
2. Louisiana Blues
3. Black Sabbath

Side 2
4. House Of The Rising Sun
5. 21st Century Schizoid Man
6. Anywhere (Reprise)

I've been thinking lately about how many lost classics there must be out there in the wider world. I would wager that at least 99% of the music we listen to was produced by English-speaking bands or artists in English-speaking countries. But what happens when we expand the parameters of our musical musings to include the whole human race? It seems to me that if only about 10% of the world's population lives in North America and the United Kingdom (that's a rough estimate), then only 10% of the world's musical geniuses would be there as well. Well, maybe the percentage is a little higher, considering that a larger percentage of the populations of the world's most affluent nations, namely Canada, the U.S., the U.K., and most of Western Europe have time to spend on expressing themselves creatively, rather than having to devote themselves to more immediate concerns such as the pursuit of food and shelter or engaged in labour for the purpose of obtaining said necessities. Is it really so far-fetched to believe that there is a whole lot of people out there capable of producing music on par with anything that has happened within the ethnocentric confines of western music in the last half century? Rock n' Roll is universal, my babies, so remember that. Listen with an open mind and one day it'll break down the petty borders that divide us.

Sometimes all you need is a gateway drug. I first became aware of Japan's legendary Flower Travellin' Band via their cover of the 'Sabs quintessentially evil namesake track. The thing was recorded in 1970, which means you KNOW they were down from the start. Seems they did a lot of covers too, so here's one you might recognize. Although it is the band’s second album, 1971’s all-time epic Satori which deservedly gets the attention of most learned heads and has secured a place for these guys in the pantheon of rock n’ roll masters, I would recommend their first album as the Flower Travellin’ Band, Anywhere, as the best place for the novice to start, because it highlights their roots as hard psych travelers while pointing the way towards their future greatness as cosmic protometal shamen, not to mention the fact that it boasts probably my favourite record cover of all time. Look at that thing! It's fucking brilliant.

The Flower Travellin' band were a bunch of refuseniks who graduated from Japan’s late '60s “group sounds” scene (kind of like boy bands with guitars) and eventually mutated into hard rock titans under the tutelage of manager and sometime member Yuya Uchida, an all-around visionary conceptualist Terry Knight/Sandy Pearlman figure. Releasing one decent covers album in 1969 as the Flowers, the band underwent a lineup shakeup and then pounded out a hardscrabble improvised psychedelic odyssey called “I’m Dead” and put it and a few other tracks on their demo, then slapped on the best title of any collection of music ever – the immortal From Pussies To Death In 10,000 Years Of Freakout. The name is apt, as this demo contains some of the most mind-melting hard psych improvisations ever put to tape. By all means dive in if you can find it, ‘cause it’s a head trip like no other, but more likely the full-lengths are the place to start, if for no other reasons than because the production is better and the words are in English. Filling their live sets with a healthy dose of western rock covers since their days as the Flowers, The Flower Travellin’ band had yet to develop much material of their own by 1970. No matter, in adding their own twist to the work of some of the artists rock had to offer, these astral travelers unwound a seam in hard rock’s stone groove that bands in Japan and North America have continued to mine to the present day.

Anywhere opens with a finely executed but lightweight attempt at a delta blues instrumental topped by some fine mouth harp work courtesy of singer Joe Yamanaka. The album really starts as the band launches into a mind-melting demolition of Muddy Waters’ “Louisiana Blues”, which is virtually unrecognizable by about the 4 minute point. That means we’re still got a solid 12 more minutes of no-brakes proto-metal jamming after that. To some people, that would be anthema, but fortunately for us, guitarist Hideki Ishima is an absolute master of his instrument, his playing on this track in particular coming across like some embarrassment of riches. This ‘aint no Cream-style yawnathon. Early on, Ishima compliments Yamanaka’s bluesy Robert Plant-style bellyaching and harmonica excursions with some muscular riffing before taking flight all on his own, burning the whole building down in the progress. His playing demonstrates a mastery of feel and momentum, never rushing a good idea, content to riff on an set of notes and figures for any number of minutes to insure the maximum amount of force can be wrung out of his mangled six-string for each one. And to give credit where credit is due, Yamanaka never feels the need to interrupt the musical fireworks going on behind him, instead content to wait his turn while the band rides the groove. But the song never gets boring, primarily due to Ishima’s fantastic sense of timing, knowing exactly when to switch up the tempo and mood, and the band likewise follows him wherever he chooses to roam. Halfway through the track, Ishima switches gears to some bright, upbeat picking which allows the intensity to gradually reset itself to the song’s opening level. Not long after, Ishima seemingly out of nowhere sprays his fucking wad all over proceedings with a Jimmy Page solo-guitar-solo (as in, with no one else playing) before the rhythm section transforms the track into a funky riff-rocker before building to an explosive finale in which Yamanaka finally returns from his smoke break (or whatever else he was doing) and rides Ishima’s riffs all the way home, bringing it down one more time and then blowing away whatever was left of the blues in the track’s final minute. You think Muddy Waters didn’t like Pete Cosey wah-wahing all over his disowned “psychedelic” album Electric Mud? He would’ve fucking hated this, and that’s why rock ‘n’ roll usurped the crown of devil’s music from some retrograde Mississippi guitar pickers and has held it high ever since.

Closing out the first side is the Flowers’ previously mentioned version of “Black Sabbath,” and if it don’t exactly eclipse the original in terms of sheer cathedral spire gothic horror, it certainly does justice to the masters, as Ishima uses the song’s explosive-chainsaw-through-an-escalator finale to try his hand at bettering the master. He doesn’t do it, but you have to admire the man for taking on Iommi on his home turf and almost pulling it off. Yamanaka’s banshee wails are especially psychotic sounding, although he maybe can’t match the sheer terror reflected in Ozzy’s tortured wail. If nothing else, it shows that these guys was some of the most forward-thinking bastards around, and that’s gotta count for something.

Side two begins with the Travellin’ Band’s take on the hoary blues standard “House Of The Rising Sun,” done acoustic murder-ballad style, half the speed of the Animals definitive version and not a farfisa in sight. Although instrumentally, the song shies away from the type of explosive payoffs that make the rest of the album such a treat, Leadbelly would have been proud of these boys’ effective invocation of the darkness at the song’s core. Also, if it wasn’t the acid rock proto-doom ballad that Frijid Pink’s version from the same year was, it is at least enjoyable for Yamanaka’s possibly unintentional mangling of the lyrics into Japanglish (“Down, in New…Or-Reans) and his equally hilarious scat-singing between verses.

Finally, the album goes and unleashes its secret weapon, a fiery version of King Crimson’s apocalyptic art-metal stunner “21st Century Schizoid Man.” If the Flowers lack Fripp & Co’s musical precision, they make more than make up for it in terms of muscular riffing power, extrapolating the original’s infamous laser cutting staccato middle section into an odyssey through the mind of bong-blasted postwar cultural refugees featuring some dirty free-bass and jazz-as-fuck drumming. Greg Lake may have been far too dexterous for these guys to emulate completely, but you can bet that pound for pound, it was the Flower Travellin’ Band which really got down to making that massive opening riff the teeth-rattler it always had the potential to be. Add some stunning fuzz-wah-guitar from Ishima and double the length of the original, and you got yourself a whole new ballgame. The band then tacked on a reprise of the delta-blues breakdown that opened side one, and that’s a wrap. Where to next? Anywhere. Just hit the road, crank the tunes and hang on.

Those who would be tempted to write off this very good hard rock collection as “just a covers album” would be wise to remember that it’s a long way from Georgia to Japan. If you’ve ever watched any Japanese movies that have been dubbed into English with the subtitles still on, you are probably aware of the discrepancies that arise in the dialogue. It’s kinda the same thing here, as the musical dialogue takes some interesting turns, ones that will reward any listener willing to take a chance and hear something new. Take the familiar songs as a signifier of the band’s estimable good taste and be prepared to look at them in a whole new light. Make it through this one in one piece, and you should be about ready to experience the might of the Flower’s masterpiece, Satori.

Julian Cope’s excellent book “Japrocksampler” was an invaluable resource to me in learning about these guys. I highly recommend picking it and its sister work “Krautrocksampler” up and then proceeding to have your narrow worldview of rock & roll shattered.