The saga thus far surrounding the acid-folk alchemists in Ghost might be viewed as a case study in the willful disregard of career upkeep. Since forming amid commune-like circumstances in the Ogikubo section of Tokyo circa 1984, Ghost has released only six albums—the last two, Snuffbox Immanence and Tune In, Turn On, Free Tibet, were issued simultaneously in 1999—with Ghost sightings along the concert trail being equally rare. According to founder/guitarist Masaki Batoh, Ghost simply isn’t inclined toward “doing the same expression” (i.e., repeating itself, whether on record or by performing familiar material night after night). That said, the group’s stock has continued to rise over the years—an appearance at the Terrastock 5 festival in October ’02 was rapturously received, and indie tastemakers Damon & Naomi are such fans that they’ve toured and recorded with Ghost on several occasions—thanks in part to a natural mystique that attaches itself to any so-called cult artist, but due primarily to the unwavering quality of the music.

With Hypnotic Underworld (Drag City), the first Ghost release in five years, the musical ante gets upped even further. The title track alone leaves the listener’s jaw scraping linoleum, the 24-minute, four-part suite simultaneously channelling Alice Coltrane-esque free jazz, ‘60s Canterbury scene-styled prog and krautrock-inspired psychedelia. Also among the highlights: a pair of intriguing covers, the dreamy “Hazy Paradise” (originally by ‘70s Dutch prog merchants Earth & Fire) and Syd Barrett’s melancholy “Dominoes” (radically reworked by Batoh to incorporate synths, church bells and massive power chords, the song virtually becoming a Barrett/Ghost medley).

Yet to pigeonhole Ghost along so-called genre lines like “psychedelia” does a gross disservice, for true to its name, Hypnotic Underworld is a mesmerizing, open-ended excursion into heaviosity and airiness, staggering amid shadows and fog only to tumble through bright prisms of primary color. In fact, “psychedelia” may be the general parameter guide for harried record-store clerks looking to file the album efficiently, but with enough instruments on hand to stock a small orchestra (all manner of stringed things, plus keyboards, percussion, sax, flute, whistles and theremin—the latter wielded by the returning Taishi Takizawa, a founding member) and an ambitiously cinematic approach to the arrangements and overall sound, think of “psychedelia” in the broadest, most mind-expanding terms imaginable.

In January, Batoh graciously agreed to an e-mail conversation with MAGNET, prefacing his replies by writing, “I enjoyed your interview. I’m very sorry my English is too broken so please correct as you like.”

MAGNET: It’s been nearly five years since your last release. Why the delay?
Batoh: The period we did activities since 1984 was very, very limited. Most of the time we did nothing. We used to hate performing in the same way. Music was a living thing born from inside of us immediately—not to be copied many times. [During] this 20 years we have made only seven albums. So five years is not so long blank for us.

After the (1996) U.S. LamaRabiRabi tour, Ghost was broken down because of problems of members’ relations. We were very exhausted and tired of playing again. I disjointed the band then and stopped all performances. A few years later I had an idea to make an acoustic album (Snuffbox Immanence) with familiar friends as a simple set. I called one of the oldest Ghosts, Kazuo Ogino (piano, mellotron, lute and ethnic pipes), back to the band. Michio Kurihara, an electric guitar player, has always been a good partner. As a trio, we tried to making a folk album without bass and drums.

Just before the end of the recording sessions, we recorded Free Tibet, a benefit album with Liaison Office of The Holiness of Dalai Lama. It had two different aspects: quiet, folky tunes and white-noise chaos jams. Ghost was basically formed by three people: Kazuo Ogino, Michio Kurihara and me. Cello player and marimba player were support musicians.

In 2000 we supported Damon & Naomi’s recording work in Cambridge (Mass.). And we did a U.S. tour and a Japan tour later (in 2002)—a trio Ghost joined Damon & Naomi. On the Japan tour I noticed some lack of chaos so I reconstructed a new Ghost. We needed a rhythm section and found a percussionist, Junzo Tateiwa, and bassist/cello player, Takuyuki Moriya. We needed an Acid Guru who was an oldest Ghost, Taishi Takizawa (flute, saxophone, theremin, etc.). He had been absent for 10 years. Sometimes he produced our albums but stopped joining as a player in the band. Finally, four original Ghosts and two new Ghosts met together.

What keeps you motivated as an artist?
For myself, the reason to keep playing for long years is just only PROCESS. PROCESS—someone invites us to a foreign festival. PROCESS—someone needs us. PROCESS—record label waits patiently for us. PROCESS—people come over to see us in a small club. We find great reasons to play through these processes concerning us everywhere. Remember, if you need us, we are there. We just play for you.

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