Scenario: everything we perceive has a hidden meaning, a shadow that flickers at the corner of the eye, a subtle metaphysical mutation. If we try to focus upon it, the mind recoils at the possibilities of horror, of an infiltration in the stability of reason. Usually, we cannot help but forget, and the assassination attempts all go unregistered… until some kind of breaking point is reached. Walking in the middle of the day in a street full of people, or deep at night when we suddenly wake up still dreaming of nothingness, there is a strange realization of that parallel geography right before our eyes, an instant knowledge of a thousand connections that configure a secret history aimed directly at our heads; we meet the gaze of objects and feel the libertarian cracking of a whip, and we are finally enlightened not by some kind of transcendental intuition but by the very realist, jagged processes of paranoia.
And what is improv if not partly the result of something speaking in our name? Egor fills no space in the narrative of The Mount Fuji Doomjazz Corporation – it is detached by its circumstances, a single session in a Russian theater, seventy minutes that grow from the concrete walls of the most painful of utopias, an architecture of deceitful exploitation that ultimately mirrors what was supposed to be its opposite. Mimicking its surroundings, the Corporation plays, and there is no fear to show what is not there. We might think of darkness, but, as in the album cover, there is only light. We might think of a terrible desire, stitched together perfectly, tapping at us from within the walls, but there is only music. We might think of loneliness, as privation and death, but there is only the blissful reverse solipsism of paranoia, forever transforming the entire world, forever creative. Thus, the estrangement appears infinite, flowing kindly from the harmonies contained in the shadows of sounds, turning the mind’s initial recoil into pleasure, for everything is a secret hidden in plain sight.
Is there something to say when music this powerful comes into our ears? It would seem that it imposes a grave silence, but perhaps all it does is provide us with the right context to speak: a severe dislocation of ideology, a crack in the earth that reveals no hell, but a dramatic stage. A thousand conspiracies shatter the chains of logic and unleash our tongues, revealing us, each and every one, as centers of the world… the threshold disappears, and all our pains and joys are realized in a brass scream. We have come together, finally, in delirium. That walk and that sudden waking up at last intertwine in a complex texture of meanings, free from causal explanations as we process them into ever more perverse sequences of events increasingly informed by those surrounding us, open and closed to our brilliant, newly found and shared irrationality. The “Cosmonaut” of the third track orbits the first, and only, frontier, the sublime void between our gazes meeting. And what a terrible, blindingly beautiful void it is. (David Murrieta)