For this review type feature is dedicated to that cult’s former band member, the free-roaming Kubota, who left his native homeland to soak up the musical heritage of Uncle Sam. Unfortunately this idealist oasis proved nothing but a regretful nightmare for the one-time bassist, who wished to return home: willing to even serve prison time if it got him home.īut I digress. The latter found himself marooned in North Korea for his troubles, after naively taking part in the hijacking of Japan Airlines flight 351: the idea being to defect and land behind the iron curtain with a cargo of hostages and leverage. Frontman Takashi Mizutani and bassist Moriaki Wakabayashi were tangled up in the messy Japanese Red Army fringe of haphazard terror cells. Devoid of official releases – their entire output more or less unofficially released as bootlegs – the Rallizes (a French corruption that translates as ‘naked suitcases’ in case you were wondering) reigned supreme as the most cultish of cult Japanese experiments. There’s almost certainly room for the infamous Les Rallizes D énud és in that tome the rambunctious hardliners that Kuboto managed to uncouple himself from in the early 70s. I’ve never read Julian Cope’s obsessive Japrocksampler but feel there’s a special place in the archdruid of head music’s heart for the all rounder Makoto Kubota.
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