Category: blog

imagine, and be wrong to, ascribing to this album some kind of originary, authentic modality of that pungent austerity everywhere clinging to the contemporary formulation of “non-idiomatic improvisation” etc as a retroactively academicized and theoretically revitalized (as in pro-gentrification urban planning) set of argumentative methodologies for the “creation” of “free” music…

next imagine, and be wrong to, ascribing to it the exoticizing, othering term “naivism” that has haunted tori and reiko’s music in the western press for decades: the keyboard here as daniel johnston’s ostensibly rudimentary chord organ, assumptively configured as “unlearned” in (misconstrued) relation to prevalent hierarchical valuations of harmonic orientation instead of as (for example) a mode of jubilant agnosis…

imagine music to be so pinned-in by factitious frames like these that in language we know more the experience of what this music isn’t. imagine how beautifully little the crisis of representation engendered by said is interactive in any way with the experience of open-eared listening. and imagine that it could be so hard just to move from a descriptive understanding — that of this listening, that of its moment of emergence — to an understanding description of what are ultimately just moments of recorded music.

recorded how, and by whom? these people were and are in love with each other. they were and are also mutually embedded in a religious context about which i know little. the songs would seem to be overdubbed, a practice tori has largely abandoned since “return visit to rock mass” for potentially exciting reasons. to understand the lyrics, it would be necessary to learn the japanese language. titles: water, sheep, the earth is blue, emperor, dead. there is at least one moment of someone i would intuitively configure as unrelated speaking, this accidentally or intentionally layered in. representationally, ambiguity is preserved between (1) the songs as compositions, (2) as recordings and (3) the role of what could be termed improvisation. i detect potential reamplification in what may have been the mixing process; i detect some reverence of reiko(’s voice) in tori’s environments; i think of the word pillows. i want to guess that some of the keyboard here is reiko’s. she told me that this band came about after she and tori met at club minor and joined a punk band started by a person named genet, but soon only they remained. tori told me that they met at a record shop in shimokitazawa, where he was already playing in a band called “worst noise,” later forming “noise” after meeting at a les rallizes dénudés show in fussa. 

i think of the magnetism i’ve felt, as a musician, and as a permanent adolescent (i believe they were in their late teens / early twenties at the time of recording), toward making the “worst noise” possible, and how the character of that “worst noise” has changed: become harmonious, in fact. i think of the serendipitous role of people like mr. sato, who ran club minor where reiko says she met tori. i think of the collision of the inexhaustibly plural contexts operative here: tori’s return from new york to japan, where reiko had remained (other than a brief trip to new york where she told me she realized in a jail on bowery that she was not free); of their marriage; of their ‘activism,’ their religion; tori’s abiding interest in lacan, derrida, blanchot, etc; the udon bar in tobe where even haino smiled; the relatable trajectory from tori playing jazz standards at club minor to this album with reiko along with guys and dolls, tako, che-shizu, etc to both their work in early-80s-to-late-00s maher to last year’s “je est un autre”; i think of reiko’s hospice work; i think of pottery, of how reiko once told me when she sings she’s “like a bug before the setting sun.” i think too of my abiding fear of them as wise- and virtuous-seeming elders exemplary of a certain form of life i’ve sought to lead: an anxiety which should preclude my rendering this statement. i think of life in its plenitude, how recordings like this participate in “saving the phenomena” in uncertain form, inscribing the majesty of events in a provisionally fixed object. i think of the life span of these objects, and of all that cannot be object, and gladly.

reiko in a 2010 interview with me: “i don’t want to make songs, i mean if a song is strong enough, it comes out no matter how hard i try to hold it.” tori in a 2004 (?) interview: “a piano improvisation is like an unmodulated sketch from nature. i used to worry that settling for that definition was like sitting on the fence. through thinking about how much one understands nature, with time i became able to take the reins of myself as a performer who embraced the negative realism aspects of jazz as the representation of personal experience.” like tom t hall said, i’ll leave it there ‘cause i suppose they told it pretty well.

— zach phillips

We know more than anybody how badly we needed a site upgrade. Finally, months of hard work have paid off, and just in time for the New Year. Say hello to our new digs! 

Since our inception in 2013, Moone Records has always had a vision for storytelling that transcends the transactional. Our attention to detail is motivated by far more than creating a product that lots of people will want to buy, with quality to match a dollar amount — it’s an act of gratitude to the artist, with quality that shows honor for the sacredness of their story, and for the vulnerability and beauty of how they’ve chosen to tell it. 

As Moone has slowly but steadily progressed, we are aware that our own story would not exist without being enriched by the artists who have trusted us with their stories, and this is not a responsibility that we take lightly. 

In 2019, our artists and their supporters brought us to a new phase of growth that demands a new expression in our online presence. The new website is a truer reflection of where we’ve come from, of the incredible artists who’ve brought us here, and of where we hope to go. 

Aesthetically, it gives a humble nod to the past through splashes of soft background gradients, pulled from our original 2013 logo. Far from detracting from our newer black-and-white look, this homage to our beginnings makes the artists of 2020 pop with a freshness fit for a new decade. 

At the same time, we are more accurately reflecting our commitment to minimalism and to our artists through removing cluttery content, and clunky interfaces. The changes we are most proud of are the ones we hope you notice the least. Streamlined navigation let’s the website itself fade into the background, putting the artists at the forefront.

Last but not least, the new site is now optimized for mobile, with a more user-friendly checkout process. Now, you should be able to order that new vinyl quickly and easily, whether you’re sitting at your desk at work, or sitting on the toilet at home. 

With a new site, a new decade, a new phase of growth, we are overwhelmed with gratitude for the role that each of you have played, and so excited to see what comes next. Thank you for being part of our story!

Tashi Dorji & John Dieterich made their way through Phoenix last month. The performances took place downtown in the beautiful meditative sanctuary of Grace Lutheran Church. Visually ornate, clothed with red carpets and stained glass windows. It was sonically and visually stunning.

James Fella started the evening with an acoustic set. A multitude of symbols and tape machines. At his own pace, he tinkers with some kind of buzzing motors and screeching symbol noise for the first half. Suddenly I realized that it was also being recorded onto the tape machines and was then played back and manipulated along with the continued acoustic clamor.

Warm Climate then took the stage for their first appearance in many years. It was a special return. Psychedelic epics mixed with loose avant playing, noise, and heady lyricism. Seth Kasselman’s writing and arranging is truly forward thinking. It hints at something familiar, but then soars into the unknown.

Finally, Tashi & John close out the evening. They had only met a few days earlier for their short stint of shows together, but their effortless connection would have said otherwise. Their set went seamlessly from minimal sputters and spasms to a swirl of harshly affected guitar strings. For a short time, I felt detached from reality. The only thing that kept me grounded was the fact that there were two humans and two guitars in front of me manufacturing the sound. Their set was littered with quick turns, sudden stops, and abrasive noise. I still feel a lack of words and even understanding of what took place, but I think about it often. We are grateful to have been a part of such a rare gathering.

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Each of our releases are intentionally designed to display its given work, and not overcompensate. Like a painting hung on a white wall. We value being minimal because we believe in preserving and displaying the work of the artists involved. Our friend Ben Peck took these photos while we were screening the sleeves for Tori Kudo’s ‘Live At Harness’ cassettes. We want all of our releases to have human hands involved in the process to emphasize the individuality and humanity in it.

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Little Wings came through Phoenix this past weekend and we’re still buzzin’. The night was more than we could’ve hoped for. Gene Tripp started with their delicate, loose take on cosmic country music, and I think Kyle Field nailed it on the head when he called them “a goth Link Wray.” When Kyle took the stage everyone was immediately entranced. His set was laced with new and old tunes, funny stories, and delivered with endearing personality. His performance extracted the full spectrum of emotions from the listener, and he has a way of leaving all with a sense of optimism for the future. Life is not all bad news. Kyle is nothing short of a magical figure, and I am sure all who partook can agree that it felt like we were in on a secret. Years down the road, we will be bragging about ‘that one time’.

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April 1st, 2017 was a day not only about music, but community. People of different ages, races, backgrounds, etc. came together in celebration of Stinkweeds 30th anniversary. It was a time of celebration and fun as children were running around, people enjoyed good food, prizes, and cold beverages on a hot day while bands of different genres played their hearts out. Even if one did not know the lyrics of the songs being played it was almost impossible not to clap your hands, bob your head, or simply sway your hips along to the groove of the music each artist so uniquely displayed. It was an unforgettable day.

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Through the greater Phoenix area, there’s about 200 miles of canals flowing through our neighborhoods and cities, most of which are lined with smooth trails and street signs at crossing points. The Grand Canal, mainly near the communities of West Phoenix, Alhambra and South Phoenix, can be considered the most forgotten.

The shallow waterways at these parts of the canal are framed with trash, debris and unkept paths. It’s a stretch of the canal with the most potential for progress. This area is deserving of attention, because as neighbors, it’s ours to use and steward.

And that’s the same sentiment Moone Records and 3 other local businesses (Joseph’s Coat Painting, Media Fifteen, and Johnson Wealth Management) had for a neighborhood learning center at Redemption Church Alhambra. On the church’s campus, near 19th Avenue and Indian School Road, there’s a space with various classrooms, a garden and playground, ready to be reimagined.

After a couple months of fundraising and a goal to raise $10,000, nearly 30 runners set out on the canal’s path just behind the future learning center’s doors this past Saturday morning. Some experienced runners, others challenging themselves for a common goal.

6 miles. 10 kilometers. More than $13,000 raised.

With this learning center, Redemption will be able to serve nearby kids and youth through classes, help with homework, a computer lab, opportunities to learn trade skills, and more. In a section of the city with the highest rates of crime and poverty, young lives—much like the canal—are also forgotten and untended.

Located in Redemption Alhambra’s campus built back in the 1940s, the learning center will need remodeling and ongoing support throughout the renovation process. And it’s going to need all the help it can get.

Consider donating to the learning center, and help us get closer to helping kids right in our backyard who need it most.  Go HERE and select “The Learning Center” in the Giving Fund drop down menu.

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