Living in an old B&B in a tiny village on the Pacific Coast of Japan sounds pretty idyllic; the perfect place to create music to a backdrop of natural coastal beauty and the nostalgic romanticism of a building with a million stories. But as ‘Roke’ displays, it’s an existence that’s balanced with the regular threat of something wild, uncontrollable and destructive.
Born from finding a semblance of beauty in terror, it’s the literal calm following the typhoon after which it is named. Combining a live recording of the house’s, creaking, defiant resistance, the droning ambience and the windswept elements create a track that’s both beautiful and unsettling. The structure’s stresses and moans add the familiarity of feeling safe as nature rages outside but here, there’s only ominous comfort.
Wracked with an unobtrusive power, ‘Roke’ is the wide-eyed contrast between the vexing aftermath and the trepidation that the worst is yet to come. Gripping to the end, it’s the tense triumph of potentially losing everything but the relief of finding shelter when you need it most. (Words by Reef Younis).