From the jump, Zenjitsutan pushes hard – against your ears and any other body part that stands in its way. Yuko Araki has done his best to recreate the experience of one of his infamous noise performances within the bourgeois formula of an album, and if that is what listeners expect, they will probably be pleased with the results. For the uninitiated, Zenjitsutan is an aural onslaught, filling the acoustic spectrum to near-total exhaustion with pure noise, walls of it. Over seven tracks, Araki does his best to push the absolute limits of listenability, assaulting unapologetically, with almost no respite  (save for a few audible tracks changes). 

The character of Zenjitsutan's brand of noise is a clear descendent of fellow countryman, Merzbow, though which version of the Japanese pioneer I cannot say (there are too many for any mere mortal to keep track of). There are a few moments of seeing through the iron curtain, like some lower frequency synth notes toward the conclusion of "Natron", though these exceptions are there to prove the rule, is my guess. With little variation and a horror vacui of sonic space, there is not much that surprises after the first 10 seconds or so, and the translation of a live noise context into a playback one might have benefited from some nuance, however unsubtle. Yes, I am splitting hairs, but such one-dimensional performativity leaves a lot to be desired, even if there is hardly any room to move, acoustically speaking.

Fans of pure noise, Merzbow, and other barely listenable sonic onslaughts, will likely appreciate Araki's elimination of any vestige of musicality. Not for the faint of heart--you have been warned. To check it out