Les Sewing Sisters killed rock n’ roll. Somewhere in Osaka, Japan, Lun*na and Saori destroyed any notion of rock careerism by performing a show with one person in the audience. Mon is a Kimono specialist, and there is something intensely perverse when Showa-era Kimono culture meets sewing machine terrorists. This is not about obtaining fame or more attention but doing art in a quiet manner as a grand gesture.
Sewing machines are very much the product of the Industrial Age and were one of the first new machines to be used in a home. The housewife or woman (in most cases) had the power to make their clothing, and in an iconic way, this is as important as buying a personal computer in the early 1990s. It is the quiet moments that are the most deadly, and when you hear the faint sounds of a sewing machine at work, it can be in the hands of a creative artist.
There is nothing more important than two women making music out of a machine that radically changed society during the Industrial Age, as a sewing machine. Finding another use for the machine to make music is a revolutionary method in changing or challenging the essence of guitars or even keyboards in pop or rock music. And this is pop music, but done in a way that hasn’t been done before. History is being made while I’m drunk riding on its back.
The Japanese homes usually have a steep staircase, which tends to bring or trigger fear within me. I suspect when I was younger, I was pushed down a staircase while holding my cat by a disturbed woman. It traumatized me, and I have never been able to overcome that moment or fear. Did it even exist? Perhaps it’s a nightmare I had as a child, and in some fashion, it never became a faint memory. But one of such horrific intensity, I still am in awe of my phobic talents.