Thrilled to release a rare live recording from New York-based, Japanese artist, writer, theorist, and composer, Yasunao Tone. An original member of the Fluxus movement and Group Ongaku, and a pioneer since the early 60s in sound art and digital composition, Yasunao Tone, has worked with John Cage, Merce Cunnigham, Yoko Ono, Robert Ashley, and Florian Hecker to name just a few.  Invited to perform at Cafe OTO by Russell Haswell as part of his three-day residency here in November 2015, Tone gave a sublime performance, presenting two versions of a piece, mixing abrasive and meditative qualities to transcendent effect. The two parts of the performance act as disorientating reflection of the other; overlapping and reprising in places but allowing subtle shifts in tonality and dynamics to shift the emphases and take the listener to whole new places entirely. Overwhelming, coruscating, transportive, soothing, and enlightening - at times all at once - this is an essential document from a true visionary.  --- Recorded by Shaun Crook Mixed and mastered by Oli Barrett Cover design by Oli Barrett Thanks to Russell Haswell

Xu Shaoyang makes music about the fragmented beauty of everyday life. Over the years, he has sustained a fresh spirit of amateurism by travelling and performing in many different parts of the world, occasionally as a member of the avant-pop group Maher Shalal Hash Baz. His songs are made of simple tunes, sometimes silly sometimes smart, sometimes delivered with a “backing band” of improvising musicians who he met and collected along the way. Sometimes the karaoke worked out musically, sometimes not.In spring 2019, Xu Shaoyang took a trip to East Asia. He performed two gigs in Beijing and Taipei with two small ensembles of local musicians, both taking place in a pedestrian underpass. For this journey, Xu Shaoyang prepared a songbook of 30 tunes he conjured while putting his newborn child to sleep. “When you are putting a baby to sleep, you find yourself having no time to sleep, and that’s when the familiar tunes deep in your heart flow out naturally”, as he explained to the crowd in Taipei.In both gigs, Xu Shaoyang sang these 30 songs with his microphone attached to a FM transmitter. Very different dynamics played out in the North and the South. In Beijing, Zhu Wenbo and Liu Lu smuggled their own composition game into the group jam: the two prepared 30 slips of paper with simple musical themes and instructions, randomly picking one each before a song was played, while a third musician, Ake, joined them with freeform improvisation. The Taipei backing band, consisting of Jyun-Ao Caesar and La-La Reich, improvised along simple principles provided by Xu, to explore the themes of expectations and failures.This cassette provides a documentation of a rare musical journey connecting the two Chinese capitals. Performed live, Xu Shaoyang’s lullabies turned into childish plays of bouncy melodic chaos, unrefined, unsettled, and cheerfully unconcerned. These recordings smell of the sincere joy of collective music making, the joy of connection and communication as well as miscommunication.

Noising Sheng documents Zhang Meng’s attempt to reinvent the Chinese sheng into a noise instrument. Since ancient time, the sheng has been associated with the virtue of “he” central to Confucian ethics, denoting peace, harmony, and conciliation. In the family of Chinese wind instruments, the sheng is a rare member who is able to fix to a certain tune unaffected by playing, and to play multiple notes at the same time. In an ensemble setting, it often functions on the one hand as a standard-pitch instrument for tuning, and on the other hand as a basic accompaniment instrument holding the collective sound together. The sheng was never a solo instrument in its traditional role. It is supposed to sound steady, modest, and eminently decorous. Zhang Meng inherits a devotion to the instrument from his father, a professional sheng artist. For over two decades, Zhang Meng has performed his sheng in Chinese folk orchestras, contemporary classical ensembles, and rock bands, his regular collaborators ranging from avant-garde composer/conductor Tan Dun to beloved folk rock group Wu Tiao Ren. Yet, as his relationship with the sheng deepens, he feels increasingly uneasy with the stereotypical roles assigned to the instrument. On February 3, 2024, Zhang Meng performed a solo concert at Trigger, a new underground space co-managed by Shanghai noise artist Torturing Nurse. For the concert, Zhang Meng wrote the following: “Nowadays, this implication of ‘harmony’ of the sheng inevitably strikes me as ironic… as a sound-producing medium, the sheng can sound dirty and raw, it should be able to 'curse'. Although there are quite a few modernist pieces for the sheng that explore its unconventional aspects, they are mostly written by composers who aren’t skilled at playing it. Sentiment aside, I think they lack a genuine understanding of the sheng as an instrument. This is why I try to approach the sheng with an experimentalist spirit, to ‘noise’ the sheng as much as possible. I choose not to use any effects pedals so that all moods are expressed only through the sheng’s original tone, and they are not all supposed to be ‘noisy’... At the concert, I played a track of the typically lyrical sound of the sheng on a pre-recorded cassette, and I played my sheng alongside. If you insist on asking why, take it as a struggle between the real and the hypocritical.” Noising Sheng documents the whole concert throughout. The performance was half-improvised upon a written script, showcasing Zhang Meng’s virtuoso performing techniques and sharp theatrical sensibilities as a composer. Yet it is carefully staged in a way that the protagonist is not the performer, but the instrument itself. In a crescively charged space of revolving tensions, the sheng mutters, splutters, and bawls, setting free its eerie expressive potential from under a long historical shadow. Noising Sheng is a self-conducted piece of post-irony delivered with gentle earnestness. In a time when “noise” is becoming more and more performative, still it gives it a try to take noise seriously.

In Chinese, “big ghost” is a phrase sometimes used to convey a sense of utter out-of-placeness. If you see a big ghost, you find someone who walks the corporeal world in their own preposterous ways. A big ghost is not a ghost, it does not terrorise, but neither does it belong. It occurred to Li Weisi that this speaks to the very essence of outside music making. One of these days, he started saying “I saw a big ghost playing last night” after going to a very good gig. Ghostmass, then, are a collective of such big ghosts doing music together. Started in 2021 as an improvisation unit based in Beijing, the project gathers kindred souls who share the vision for an open musical space where ghosts feel at home. To this day, the lineup has evolved into some kind of a supergroup of the capital’s music underground: Li Weisi and Li Qing are known more widely as the retro-manic electro-acoustic duo Soviet Pop, and as two thirds of the cult alt-rock act Carsick Cars; Yan Jun has been a veteran experimenter of sounds, words, and ideas for decades across various scenes; the most recent addition to the group was Yang KuKu (YKK), a professional aquascaper who plays music in a band for the first time. While the project grows from a joint passion for drone, doom, and extreme metal, each ghost attends its own duties in building and rebuilding the collective sound of Ghostmass, which stumbles across a trackless delta of harsh noise and free improvisation. In 2023, Ghostmass recorded an improvised session for Dusty Ballz on a hot summer day. The label was told that they would do something jazz. The two tracks on Side B are titled to pay homage to the legacy of late Coltrane. Side A presents an array of ghostly references from an everyday Chinese context: a martial arts fiction masterwork of the Taiwanese “ghost school”, an ancient Taoist master heralding from the ghost valley, a French DIY-music wizard who wanders in Beijing hutongs calling himself “ghost uncle”, and the famous ghost caverns in the Wuyi Mountains where smoky dark oolong tea grows – these references have warrantably turned into ghosts themselves, paling under translation. In a time when being human gives way to humanism, perhaps being ghost promises a more real living reality. Perhaps hell is what we live in right now - who the hell knows - perhaps this is what jazz music should be.

A mesmerising, chimerical set from Japanese-American multi-instrumentalist, Patrick Shiroishi, recorded at OTO on a bill with Alex Zhang Hungtai in November 2024. Starting with plain, unadorned saxophone tones, Shiroishi immediately sets about drawing the listener into his own distinctive sonic landscape. Looped refrains slowly build between voice and instrument as Shiroishi weaves a wonderfully lyrical tangle of saxophone lines in the gaps, before drawing out a weighty swell of bass tones which only serve to let the rest swirl ever higher. From this point, Shiroishi doesn't look back, covering a remarkable amount of ground in the set's 35 minute duration. Circular breathing runs spiral around jagged little stabs of melody, blurring into samples of recorded speech which hiss and fracture before falling away completely. For a while, all that remains are the ebbing waves of Shiroishi's breath through the reeds, as a languid saxophone melody swoops and darts amongst the leavings of the low tide. The waters will soon return though, this time not so much a swell as a raging torrent. Shiroishi's wonderfully stark, plaintive voice calls forth the flood. Layering with fragments of saxophone and electronics, the currents soon become a swirling cataract that the speakers seem barely able to contain, until finally the entire deluge is itself washed away. From those first few simple notes, the distance covered is no small thing, for artists and audience alike. -- Recorded by Shaun CrookMixed by Patrick ShiroishiMastered by Oli BarrettCover photo by Jordan Reyes

For his last solo record ‘Through a Room’, Bill Nace shifted his usual saturated guitar sound and added tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, bird calls and the mysterious Japanese taishōgoto. Setting up for the final night of his three day residency at OTO with only the taishōgoto soundchecked, Nace hoped that Parker would arrive with his small soprano as its opposite. “I’ve been interested in state change, you know, playing until there’s a shift in time.” Known for his development of multiphonics to produce a constantly shifting pattern, Evan Parker has evolved an instantly recognizable sound - his work the soprano most distinct. Happily, it was the soprano Evan brought with him and as soon as the two start to play they entwine - taking off in a double helix of keys and reed primed for endless reconfiguration. Space warps under the velocity of playing, the pitch rising unrelentingly. It felt like unending lift off in the room, sheer energy until the last note makes remember your feet have been on the floor the whole time. Total time bending shredding.  --- Bill Nace / electric two string taishōgotoEvan Parker / soprano saxophone --- Arrives in a tip on sleeve with artwork by Bill Nace. Edition of 500 released as a split with Bill Nace's Open Mouth Records. If you're in the USA we advise you buy locally.  Recorded live at Cafe OTO on Friday 25th May, 2024 by Billy Steiger. Mixed and mastered by Brian Haran. Cover art by Bill Nace. Photo by Dawid Laskowski. Layout by Neil Burker & Bill Nace.