“True beauty is something that attacks, overpowers, robs, and finally destroys.”
― Yukio Mishima
An artist is a complex person. An artistic genius exponentially so. What do to when your spirit is torn in so many artistic directions? Divide and conquer is the solution employed by one Michael Dowling. He is soul, R&B, reggae, calypso, rock and roll, and punk-rock. In the two years I’ve known him he’s been Molahsiz, Mic Dainjah (as in microphone danger), Henry Lee Rawlz, John Orpheus and most recently Mishima.
Mishima is a Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario band (big up to The 5-1-9!) and is comprised of the aforementioned split personality, who is the lyrical composer, vocal lead man and bassist of the trio. Kevin Suess, a fan favourite, grooving on keys, providing back-up vox and adding percussion on Überdude and fed the energy with hair-flipping head-banging. Rounding out the trio is drummer and record producer Ryan Dugal.
Mishima held their inaugural album launch for “Love Is The Revolution” at the iconic Kitchener hot-spot, The Boathouse (AKA Bo-Ho) on April 18, 2015. They had the place pumping with their hard-hitting grooves, hands were clapping, fans were dancing and heads were nodding as they ran through the full album.
On my first listen to the album had a feeling that something missing. Mind you I had prime seats at the show, right next to the stage, my ears and head were ringing for hours afterwards and as I drive back to The Six playing the CD over a few times I felt like what I missed was harmony. After a good long sleep I awoke and took my car for a short drive to get some gas and listened to first two songs again, what I realized was that the harmony wasn’t what was missing. It’s what I had been missing. Listening, to the passion and the lyrics on this album what I found was that I was not supposed to sit and consume this, I was meant to participate, to fill in the harmony with the emotion that was elicited. Yes, the harmony was in me all along. Mishima was the needed catalyst.
Kali Kali
21, young and dumb
Cocked back like a loaded gun
Accelerating. Desecrating.
On the money. On the run.
Fire kiss. Arsonist. Burning bridges with her lips.
"I got no time to reminisce. Got bills to pay, chasing hits"
Ashed her cigarette on God.
Epiphanies in bathroom stalls.
Stiletto tall: 'fuck them all"
Strapless back against the wall
Racing through red carpet nights
Neon gospel, flashing lights
Revlon jungle. Red eye flights
Still waiting for my wings to make it right
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