Review Summary: You're a part of this too.
By the time Matsuri formed in 2007, screamo had long since flown the coop of its dark, nihilistic soil and fluttered into the more (sonically) optimistic hands of European acts like Suis La Lune and Raein, who ushered in a focus on cleaner tones and prettier chords to enhance the emotional feedback found in chaotic noise. When the movement looped back around the globe to sunny San Jose, Matsuri were equipped with a multitude of well-charted ways to approach the medium. In a way, Matsuri imitated this evolution in their own, beginning with a more cynical aggression and drifting over time toward softer timbres and intricate harmonies. On their first and final full-length released in 2010, they settled into a sound that was truly the best of both worlds — shamelessly clinging to a hopeful melodicism, but in a way unpolished like jagged crystal.
Despite its fits and knots, moments of anguish and vocals that sound like murder through a dropped receiver,
Endship truly does embody a sense of hope and collectivism like no other. It encapsulates that feeling of raw togetherness only found in cramped suburban basements and DIY sh!tboxes; the humidity of carbon dioxide and sweat flooding out of every open mouth and pore, a gentle sway in the governing body, unbothered by bruised ribs and stepped-on toes. This is not only achieved through the uncompressed and live-off-the-floor recordings but also through strategic use of gang vocals that sound more like a living audience to emphasize the most vital moments of the record. It's in these moments the band draws you into feeling like
you're a part of this too. "Cling To Your Lungs (Part III)" sees the album peak early for this exact reason: closing out an instrumental jam sesh of tangled midwest melodies, scuzzy bass, and snappy jazz drums with a chorus of disparate voices screaming,
"Open your chest! Breathe out your soul! Cling to your lungs! Love what you hold! Salesmen will leave! Bridges will fall! Hands will be strong; we can break down these walls!"
Instruments drop out one by one until the mantra repeats again over a bed of silence — a collective outcry in the abyss. It's not even close to the most eventful song on the album, but it's arguably the most impactful. The thing is, Matsuri doesn't have to complicate things to capture your ears and heart. Yes, there are moments of sprawling collapse and scatterbrained tension that rises and breaks in unpredictable ways (the opening track displays this well enough), but a lot of Matsuri's success hinges upon delivering these simple moments of cathartic unison. One voice accompanied by another, or three, or ten. This is what keeps me coming back after all these years, and why I believe
Endship is a hidden gem worth celebrating. Like any good crime of passion,
Endship trips and stumbles over itself, at times obscuring thoughtful arrangements and poetic lyricism in the act, but any sense of inconsistency I can find is only the result of high peaks casting wide shadows. Those valleys are still rich with life.
