Review Summary: Just when I think I'm winning...
Upon art-rockers Japan’s dissolution in 1982, frontman David Sylvian embarked onward to a long and fruitful solo career. To understand where Sylvian was coming from with
Brilliant Trees requires the knowledge beforehand of the conflict within Japan and their artistic direction. Their final album,
Tin Drum, was perhaps their most experimental effort yet – delving further into minimalistic song structures with
”Ghosts” and discarding the gloomy atmosphere of
Gentlemen Take Polaroids for the sounds of the Far East instead. With the introspective concept of
”Ghosts” becoming a smash hit for Japan, Sylvian’s doubts about Japan’s future seemed justified, due in part to the band being pigeonholed into the New Romantic scene they constantly rejected; internal conflict between several members all but confirmed the end of Japan soon after. Having this in mind, as well as the gradual evolution of Japan’s sound, is of importance concerning Sylvian’s debut,
Brilliant Trees.
Released in the summer of 1984,
Brilliant Trees came about as the logical conclusion to Japan in general. The rhythmic grooves ever present on tracks such as
”The Art of Parties” had reached its limit; and yet
”Pulling Punches”, the opener, had all the elements that had made Japan a success – fluid, yet punchy bass work, booming drums and stellar guitar play. And that voice –
that voice, jesus christ. David Sylvian could croon the yellow pages for hours on end and I guarantee you it’d be a stone cold classic, but I digress. The point is, going into
Brilliant Trees and expecting Sylvian to deliver something out of left field is like patiently awaiting to be disappointed. While a magnificent cut of sleek art rock with funk leanings,
”Pulling Punches” greatly misrepresents the album as a whole. It’s with the two follow-up tracks, the jazz-inflicted
”The Ink in the Well” and the Enoesque
”Nostalgia” that Sylvian begins to fully stray from the ghosts of his past and toward greener pastures. Returning to a more pop-oriented sound,
”Red Guitar” reflects Sylvian’s still-growing lyrical abilities amidst an organic backdrop that marked a great contrast to his past works. As the second half comes along, all pop sensibilities are thrown out the window in favor of abstract instrumentation, extended airy trumpet solos courtesy of Jon Hassell, and perhaps the strongest songwriting of Sylvian’s career to date in
”Weathered Wall” and the title cut.
This half of the album, most notably the tense
”Backwaters”, show why Japan absolutely
needed to break up. The sound of Japan had reached its logical conclusion with
Tin Drum and the first half of
Brilliant Trees – with the heavy experimentation present on the final three tracks, it’s clearly evident Sylvian had outgrown the pop format once and for all. The chorus of
”Brilliant Trees”, a song that is practically “the son of
”Ghosts””, brings forth an emotion present on its predecessor itself with the final lyric (“My whole life stretches in front of me/reaching up like a flower/leading my life back to the soil”). Just like
”Ghosts” before it,
”Brilliant Trees” evokes an hanging veil of melancholy that still manages to be a part of Sylvian’s craft to this day.
