GHOST BY GHOST

GHOST BY GHOST

DUSTY FINGERS

Music brainiac Brian Turner reveals a rare and fantastic record from his secret stash—hey, quit drooling on the magazine!

For better or worse, the evolution of and reflection on psychedelic rock music post-’60s took a lot of cues from making templates of past culture and fashions. While a generous amount of musicians manifested some heady, established ’60s concepts to propel and create something forward-thinking for modern times (see ’80s acts like the Dream Syndicate, Bunnymen, and Teardrop Explodes, for example), a lot were content to merely ape stylistic reference points and generally act as replicant Aquarian mimes armed with paisley clothes, teardrop guitars, and bowl haircuts, spouting not a whole lot more rhetoric than “take acid man/kill the pigs/peace and groovy love,” etc. It sounded cool with all the wheezy organs, tambourines, and trashed-up guitars but didn’t add a whole lot to the mix after a couple spins.

Discovering the late, great Hideo Ikeezumi’s Tokyobased PSF label via the then-miniscule distribution catalog set up by Forced Exposure (then a magazine) opened a lot of ears worldwide, your author’s included. Their aesthetic—often noise-infused—drew on the freeform aspect of ’60s psychedelia: Keiji Haino and Fushitsusha not only vibed on Blue Cheer, but on Albert Ayler-soaked free jazz and ancient Eastern musical traditions. Perhaps the biggest-hyped addition to the catalog came in 1990 with the debut, self-titled CD from Ghost, who were totally unknown and mysterious to us all. Categorized as rock, my immediate impression upon opening the mail and seeing its four members on the cover inhabiting a grassy hill in front of a temple, looking pretty fried and hippied out in cloaks and such, was ah, more kitsch/revisionism?

Not the case, really. These folks were the real deal upon hitting the play button. “Sun Is Tangging” immediately dunked you into a swirling cave of indefinable acoustic-generated noise, then settled into a gentle, pastoral mode that transported you into the middle of that pictured grass. It radiated organic beauty, pulsing with chants, deep drones, and rich layers of minimal but effective instrumentation led by frontman/vocalist Masaki Batoh and augmented by fellow travelers Mu Krsna, Taishi Takizawa, Kohji Nishino, and friends. Everything was driven primarily by acoustic instruments: guitars, flutes, sax, recorder, oboe, percussion. Until this point, performances in their formative years from 1984 to 1988 were primarily improvisations in various Buddhist temples, caves, and ancient ruins; the band was said to have lived in temples and train stations early on.

Like legendary countrymen/predecessors Taj Mahal Travelers, Ghost sought to make their natural environs integral in the music, but there’s definitely some Pink Floyd drive and rock moves; standout track 2 “Guru in the Echo” starts with martial drumming and a full-on Can-like charge into repetitive mantra, acoustic VU-style chords cutting through fluttering flute melodies and Batoh’s demure vocal guidance. It’s about as “rocked-out” as this record gets, but still generative of peaceful, hallowed-ground surroundings, and once that track recedes, the rest of the LP simmers into an even deeper listening experience. “I’ve Been Flying” sweetly sails up and down over waves of Batoh’s guitar strums and quiet slide/ feedback courtesy of White Heaven axman Michio Kurihara (who would later be a full-time member, joining Ghost on their ’90s move into the world’s consciousness and traditional concert venues, amping up their sound considerably). Water sounds seep into “Moungod Tedeum” and wind into “Rakshu”; even with Batoh’s Tim Buckley-esque intonations at times, his singing (much like the case with Can) is merely an element in the cosmic mix. His songcraft never took dominance over the fact that everything in the Ghost universe worked as individual components coming together to create a glorious nebula of threaded, sparse, interactive sound and color.

THE BAND WAS SAID TO HADE LIMED 111 TEMPLES AND TRAIN STATIONS EARLY ON.

Ghost became renowned amongst a wave of new psychedelic stalwarts of the ’90s: Ptolemaic Terrascope’s festivals brought them to the States, and they collaborated with Galaxie 500’s Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang as well as other kindred spirits, their performances beefed up a bit in comparison with this LP's vibe but never straying from its organic roots. The Drag City label took them on with gusto, rereleasing this CD in 1997 and guiding their other releases along. Word seemed to grow, their rare USA gigs met with great anticipation and reception; I spied Chris Robinson of the Black Crowes grooving to them at the Knitting Factory. I even hosted a Ghost radio performance in 2002, which unfortunately I can’t remember too well because I was looped on Vicodin after having gall bladder surgery two days earlier. I think they all thought I was possibly the most stoned host they encountered. But even with seven people crammed in a small radio studio, they blazed with open-sky greatness.

Ten years later I was present for a dinner with Batoh, who was unveiling a live project where he strapped a BPM machine to his head monitoring his brain waves, which were then projected through a mother board to emanate incredible raw tones and sound layers. Ghost had winded down, Batoh was a licensed acupuncturist. Now, in 2024, Drag City not only rereleases this 1990 debut on vinyl along with their follow-up releases Second Time Around and Temple Stone, but a brand-new brain-wave project called nehan. Here, the d-acoustic proceedings meld with much of the instrumentation that made the Ghost debut so great: tabla, timpani, bagpipes, and more. Earth sounds vs. technology, oscillators and such, but now the technology part is direct-drive input from the human mind, and the results of this "big band’ are enthralling. And yes, psychedelia-redefining. Again.