The pre-apocalyptic intertwining story of a woman named Reiko, living in a city scarred by climate change and burdened with the imminent threat of viruses, wandering the streets haunted by demons, abstractly envisioned in sound through stunningly effective electronics, field recordings, and developed in parts with Michel Banabila and Rutger Zuydervelt (Machinefabriek).
"Now, this is a genuinely lavish project. This takes the form of an LP in a gatefold sleeve, 12x12 inch booklet with pictures and a website with more images and text, all about the city of Reiko. There is even an "Augmented Reality app", which I haven't seen. Nobuka is fellow city man Michel van Collenburg, and if you know the size of Nijmegen, you could think I bumped into him a few times, but the truth is, I haven't. This is an unbiased review!
The idea behind Reiko is that it is a story about a city "scarred by the effects of climate change and burdened with the imminent threat of viruses" and a girl "who has her own demons. Anxiety, depression, a dead-end job. Wandering the streets, swallowed by a mass of commuters." Music for the end of times, but are we aware of this impending end? You could think this results in top-heavy depressing music, and while it is dark, it is not without hope.
Nobuka has guest players in four songs, twice Michel Banabila and once Machinefabriek and once Marina Tadic (of Eerie Wanda/Kidbug and formerly living in this beautiful city). Nobuka uses field recordings, old tape recorders and analogue equipment in his music, which lumps him into a crowded field of similar musicians, but there are also some differences. Maybe the variations come via his guest musicians (the very rhythmic 'The People', with Machinefabriek, is one undeniable example of doing things differently). Also, in his solo pieces, Nobuka strives not for bleak ambient industrial soundtracks, but there is also a very musical undercurrent. For instance, the piano in 'The Sorrow' sits on top of industrial rubble, slowly fading away for birds twitter. And yes, there is also the horror of 'The Ghosts', with its mass of violin sounds, growing from one to many and ascending to one again. The two pieces with Michel Banabila are dreamy and unsettling at the same time. Nobuka cleverly waves ease and unease together in his music, and he amazingly does that with considerable ease (pun intended). Sometimes there is friction between the sounds, and I thought there was an uneasiness that didn't work, but it all started to make sense upon repeated listening. The hissing and skipping of vinyl, the many stringed instruments dropping in and out of the mix, the ghostly drones and the melodic interjections.
All these pieces could easily fit a film score or perhaps be part of the same movie. I can envisage such a thing, a split-screen animation, about the city and the girl and the two overlapping at times. If I knew to make such a thing (and had the time!), then I'd do it with this music as the guiding soundtrack. It is all very evocative music.
Let me end this review by giving both the label's website and the project, as it surely deserves your utmost interest."-Frans de Waard, Vital Weekly
"Today is the first day she begins longing for the end.
Is it possible to be aware of living in a pre-apocalyptic time? Or does that realization come after the fact? But if you knew in advance, what would you do? Prepare for the worst, or live life to the fullest?
A city. Scarred by the effects of climate change and burdened with the imminent threat of viruses and political unrest. A girl. With her own demons. Anxiety, depression, a dead end job. Wandering the streets, swallowed by a mass of commuters.
These storylines are intertwined and form the inspiration for Reiko. A musical and visual experiment. An exploration, or even a juxtaposition of the collective and the individual human mind. A project that encompasses an album on vinyl, a longform poem, a website and an Augmented Reality app."-Nobuka