REVIEW

The first mini-album from PLOTOLEMS, an alternative rock band based in Tokyo. The project began as a solo endeavor by Sakurem (Gt/Vo), before Sho (Dr) joined in July 2020, marking the band’s full-fledged launch. They subsequently released their debut EP A FICTION (2020), followed by A GHOST (2022). With the addition of Fujimoto (Ba), PLOTOLEMS now operate as a three-piece.

I first encountered the band at the September 2022 edition of Total Feedback, a shoegaze-focused live event. Going in completely unfamiliar with their work, I was struck by how markedly different they sounded: amid a lineup of relatively accessible acts, PLOTOLEMS stood out with an uncompromisingly dark and confrontational approach. I later left an excited comment on Twitter, describing my initial impression as “coldwave × industrial × shoegaze—a cold, beautiful sound like a blue flame burning in the darkness. The pairing of icy keyboards and an ennui-laden vocal recalls the lineage of coldwave acts such as Asylum Party, while the more electronic tracks suggest an affinity with Skinny Puppy or SOFT BALLET.”

That impression only deepened with A GHOST, which drew me further into their world. (For the record, my standout track from that EP remains “This City is Hell.”)

On this release, PLOTOLEMS once again deliver a boundary-crossing sound that deftly blends alternative rock with shoegaze, noise, industrial, and new wave. The result is a relentlessly dark vision that fully embodies their self-described aesthetic of “Japanese Industrial Horror Dark Alternative.” Sakurem’s vocals—simultaneously childlike and unhinged—have grown even more expressive, shifting fluidly from fragile clean passages to scream-like outbursts, dragging the listener ever deeper into madness.

What follows are brief impressions of each track:

#1 “Watching”
Industrial textures rumble up from what feels like the murky depths of dark water, recalling the mechanical pulse of factory machinery. Shamanic, ritualistic resonances evoke an ancient ceremony, guiding the listener into a hypnotic state.

#2 “int main()”
A fast-moving track brimming with blue-tinged impulse and anxiety, reminiscent of early ART-SCHOOL. It is the album’s most immediately catchy moment and all but guaranteed to resonate powerfully in a live setting.

#3 “4294967296”
From here, PLOTOLEMS fully assert their identity. Sakurem’s raw shouts and blistering, glitch-like guitar noise scorch the brain. The imbalance between the rampaging noise and the coldly persistent keyboard lines becomes strangely addictive. The numbers chanted in a depressive monotone feel like a countdown toward annihilation. According to Wikipedia, 4,294,967,296 represents the maximum addressable memory space of a 32-bit CPU—an intriguing detail that conjures images of an afterlife overflowing, the dead spilling into networks with nowhere else to go. Seen this way, the sequence even begins to resemble a string of ominous symbols, such as death (4) and suffering (9), lending the track an additional layer of unease.

#4 “Chain”
A decadent industrial piece built on a minimal beat, punctuated by cold piano phrases. Echoes of Cold Meat Industry-era dark ambient and industrial acts—such as In Slaughter Natives—linger here, gradually implanting an indescribable sense of dread.

#5 “Crazy Dream”
The track opens with a shoegaze/post-rock-inspired introduction, lulling the listener into a hazy waking dream, before abruptly hurling them into hell with pitch-black noise and feral shouts. Its cruelty borders on the sadistic, eliciting an involuntary, uneasy laugh.

#6 “NECTAR”
Just as the listener relaxes into the harmony of languid, sweet vocals and a pulsating bassline, they are suddenly struck by a massive guitar assault. There is no such thing as safety with PLOTOLEMS.

#7 “paranoia”
An erratic, destabilizing closer that feels like being trapped inside a mirrored box and sent tumbling downhill. Metal-piercing piano strikes and gravel-spraying guitar noise crash in relentlessly. Maintaining sanity under such conditions feels almost impossible.

Seven tracks, twenty-eight minutes in total—this is a true horror anthology experienced through sound. When PLOTOLEMS contributed a shimmering track to the Total Feedback 2024 compilation, I briefly wondered whether they might be shifting toward a brighter direction. That concern proved entirely unfounded. One can only hope they continue to plunge ever deeper into the abyss.

The title para?anomaly also invites interpretation. Horror fans will naturally think first of Paranormal Activity, but by inserting a question mark and separating the word into “para” (against) and “anomaly” (abnormality), the sense of estrangement is heightened. Read another way, “para” can imply “parallel,” suggesting that anomalies are not exceptions but are omnipresent. In that sense, the title seems to pose a question: if “abnormality” exists everywhere as a matter of course, is labeling it as abnormal itself not already an aberration? This line of thought recalls the sentiment of a certain manga quote: “Who, exactly, can guarantee the sanity of your gods?”
This is, of course, only one possible interpretation.

The artwork is equally compelling. The gaping, tree-hollow-like void in the face is grotesque yet strangely beautiful. I am also particularly fond of the alternate cover—featuring a faceless, fictional figure—which evokes the aesthetic sensibilities of Travis Smith. Merchandise, especially a T-shirt, would be more than welcome.