"Tokyo" - The Books

By David Clifford Turner

The Books is a duo of musicians with a chaotic sense of sound.  Their music involves one guitarist, one cellist, and a whole mess of voice samples.  Songs like “Motherless Bastard” continue a single sample across the entire song, and only create an ambiance to it, never letting the instrumentals dominate the speech.  It forms a vivid conversational scene in one’s head, and is more like an audio excerpt from a film than a standalone music track.

The majority of their songs, however, focus on the music itself, and alter the instruments with their equipment in unexpected ways.  “Tokyo” from their album The Lemon of Pink, is this week’s song.  In it, they play and stop the cello track mid-note, giving it an oddly rushed and electronic quality.  The guitar repetitions at the beginning of the song are also accentuated in a surreal manner, and though I can’t pinpoint exactly what was altered in the instrument, it hit a resonant frequency with my ear and wormed its way inside my eardrums.  Listening to that section gives one a light-headed feeling; it’s funny thinking that music and sound-waves can alter one’s physical state.  That’s why I like this song so dearly, though.  It alters your consciousness altogether, and sucks you in.  Some songs demand your undivided attention, but the Books take it whether you like it or not.  While listening to this song, imagine sitting on a train, head against the window, and think about the landscape shifting as the music becomes more electronic and more acoustic.  And try to imagine the Japanese girl thanking you for the flight; I bet she’s a cutie.

Enjoy the song: here.