Here we go again with this Japanese girl, Yôko Higashi, captured in full-karate attitude in a superb black and white photo on the folded poster that acts as sleeve. In the 38 minutes of this CD, Higashi confirms (and betters) what she had let us glimpse in “4/29” on this same imprint. A lot of things indeed: dramatic vocalizations amidst field recordings, a chain of samples that enhance the affecting qualities of the music, a sense of action-packed consecutiveness perceivable all the way through, a penchant for detecting when enough is enough, a gazillion sounds layered one upon another, absorbing collages that won’t necessarily secure nerve-shattering to the listener. Maybe. Lionel Marchetti is once more an integral part of the work but Hamayôko is definitely walking with her own legs: you might love or hate the stuff (difficult to remain in the middle in this case), yet at all times be sure that it doesn’t sound like anything else: an absurdist punkish theatre, flooded by acousmatic streams, in which meanings must be dug out from singular settings, the sources ranging from ping-pong balls to looped voices, the whole absolutely un-beautiful – at least according to the current canons of “beauty” – and mostly great. In actuality, not for the faint-brained. A major step forward from the previous outing, and I’m more than happy for this improvement. The young woman is indeed strong.