I’ve always been fascinated by Japanese culture, but more importantly, I admire its people.
That fascination has persisted throughout my life, stemming from childhood when I was just captivated by the beauty and courage of one of the world’s most historic civilizations. Like so many of my fellow knuckleheads, I was obviously drawn to the samurai, both their history and their larger-than-life presence in pop culture.
Cliché, I know.
But, eventually, there was the music: the mighty Loudness, G.I.S.M., Intestine Baalism, and Wormrot.
Needless to say…I was hooked. Like a winter’s flu, it was contagious. Intoxicating even. The Japanese peoples’ sincere approach to their creative output is unmatched.
Simply put, the Land of the Rising Sun and the arts are synonymous with each other. And in my humble opinion, nothing quite captures that like its obscure interpretations of various mediums: anime, theater, cinema, architecture. But again, for the purpose of this review, I’ll focus on Japan’s gift of sonic ecstasy.
Hail Horror Hell incorporated classical instrumentation — orchestral-like — and copious amounts of jazz influence.
A few years later, the psychedelic tones on Imaginary Sonicscape.
There’s the traditional singing on Gallows Gallery.
The sitar and saxophone from Dr. Mikannibal on Scenes from Hell.
So on and so forth.
Across the spectrum, therein lies a consistent focus on Japanese horror, too. Movies like Jigoku and Kyofu Kikei Ningen dig their curved claws into Sigh’s sound. While that isn’t too far out of the ordinary in our lovely metal counterculture, there just seems to be something different here. If the large majority of bands are straight-to-Shudder horror directors, Sigh is Alfred Hitchcock.
Their last original record Shiki — obviously not including I Saw the World’s End: Hangman’s Hymn MMXXV (Hangman’s Hymn re-recording, duh) — is simply beautiful. It’s at times atmospheric, folky, and exquisitely produced. Not to mention a self-admitted deeply personal album for the project’s mastermind, Mirai Kawashima. But the qualities of each aforementioned record were seemingly stepping stones to their most recent opus, Goh-Ka.
The word “goh-ka” has a triple meaning: 業火 infernal fire scorching sinners, 劫火 a huge fire that burns down the world at the end of time, and 業果 karma. According to Kawashima, the album’s primary theme is Kuso-zu, a series of Buddhist paintings depicting the nine stages of human body decomposition after death. These artworks encourage meditation on life’s impermanence, death’s inevitability, and detachment from physical attractiveness and worldly attachments, all a reminder of the harsh reality that beauty is fleeting and death is inevitable.
Amen.
If that doesn’t convince you to at least give this a try, joining Kawashima and Dr. Mikannibal is a murderer’s row of contributors, including Frédéric Leclercq of Kreator fame on bass, Mike Heller of Raven and Malignancy behind the kit, and a guest appearance from the legendary Mikael Åkerfeldt of Opeth.
All of that said, you probably — or at least shouldn’t — need convincing once you dive in.
“Kuso-shi 1, 2, 3” is the lead-off batter with nine minutes of what makes Sigh so alluring — Lucio Fulci-reminiscent horror synths, traditional Japanese instrumentation, black metal necro vocals, and infectious riffing. Now, if you’re a noob, that probably sounds like an Adderall-fueled fever dream, but I assure you it’s compositionally sound…and then some. Oh, and the clean vocals add a pretty captivating layer, too. And while there are various roads to travel within the confines of this little-big tune, it never truly escapes into disorganization. Instead, it flows like the opening credits of a ‘70s film, even if the lead guitars are comparable to something straight from the ‘80s.
“Jigoku-Zoshi 1 – Unkamusho” may exonerate a more traditional approach — at least for Sigh’s standards — to heavy music in its modest runtime with some quintessential chunky riffage and hammer-on-pull-off (hey, now) melodeath moments, but “Anzenshokon” blasts back off into the realm of weird with a folky/cosmic absolute banger in what’s a mashup of Enslaved’s Below the Lights and Monumension. The kit work here is top-notch, the clean leads are hypnotic — the songwriting is just perfect, waltzing like cherry blossom petals wrapped in spring winds.
Cinematically, “Kuso-shi 4, 5, and 6” holds its place as the first act’s finale, drawing the pacing back, instead focusing on synths as the song’s main protagonist. Sure, there are some memorable moments from the stringed tools and stellar drumming, but this one really showcases the more atmospheric qualities the project has become tied to over the years. The final minute-and-a-half sounds like Rush’s 2112 fell into the gravitational pull of a black hole—heavvvvvvvyyyyyy. After the brief interlude “Shoso,” we’re met with the album’s single “Unputenpu,” otherwise known as the track featuring our pal from Opeth. Aside from the sweet solo from Mr. Åkerfeldt, “Unputenpu” is, without a shadow of a doubt, the catchiest song on Goh-Ka. The chorus is mesmerizing, and you’ll find yourself humming it for days on end, even if Japanese isn’t your mother tongue.
If you’re searching for more of that ‘90s Sigh vibe, you’ll probably find yourself most in tune with either “Jinmenjushin” or “Jigoku-Zoshi 2.” There’s some black and doom metal just begging for your attention in those back-to-back offerings. And circling back around to one of my previous points, that’s what this record does so well. Instead of throwing it all at the proverbial wall and hoping tracks just stick, the album is very pinpointed in its approach to an actual narrative. But if you’re not a nerd like me, just look at it as a way to stick to a certain rundown of Goh-Ka songs — in its intended sequential order — for whatever mood you’re in. If you’re looking to chill, the first few are great. If you’re wanting to bang your head (for metal-health-drive-you-mad purposes), those two are fair choices. For what it’s worth, the latter two aren’t by any means similar to Scorn Defeat if you’re not that into black metal. Instead, think of it more so as a nod to Imaginary Sonicscape or Dødheimsgard’s 666 International. 
After two brief instrumentals, the album’s closer “Kuso-shi 8 and 9” sits as the most prog-rock-infused track, like an even darker interpretation of In the Court of the Crimson King with thicker riffs and shrieked vocals. For eleven-and-a-half minutes, there’s no shortage of Sigh’s DNA (hey, now). Jazzy parts? Check! Clean singing? Check! Classical instrumentation? Check! Synths? Double check!
Pound for pound…a phenomenal record. One that needs and deserves to be spun time and time again.
Like a setting and rising sun.
Quick lesson: Japan lies to the east of mainland Asia, meaning the sun appears to rise over it from the perspective of neighboring countries like China, hence the name “Land of the Rising Sun.”
And perhaps this is the most fitting way to end a review of a record so obsessed with death.
Because Goh-Ka is, in many ways, an album about the inevitable setting of a sun. Flesh rots. Beauty fades. Empires collapse. Even the world itself, according to Buddhist tradition, eventually burns away.
Yet somewhere beyond all that decay, another sun rises.
Yeah, maybe not here.
But somewhere.
Overall, Goh-Ka is a reminder of the willingness to acknowledge that nothing here lasts, and perhaps more importantly, that nothing needs to.
The cherry blossom is beautiful because it falls.
The corpse is horrifying because it was once alive.
The sun is meaningful because it sets.
As much as I cherish an album like this, as I’m sure many of you will, one day, it will be forgotten. As will you. As will I. As will it all.
But that’s what makes moments like this so pure. Finding something like Goh-Ka keeps us in the here and now, while still allowing us to question, digest, and ultimately, understand that all is cyclical. From a record’s spin to life itself.
‘Cause, in the end, even if we do end up as a mere pile of ash or dirt, somewhere out there, a new flower will bloom, new life will grow, and a new sun will rise.
Not here—somewhere.
That’s life.
That’s death.
