Cyborg Keikaku by Same: A Raw, Unfiltered Blast from Japan’s Hardcore Punk Scene
Alright, let me set the scene for you. It's 1989 in Japan, and this little gem of an album drops on Premium Records. Cyborg Keikaku (or Cyborg Plan) by Same hits like a punch to the gut—raw, relentless, and dripping with attitude. If you're into hardcore punk with that rock edge, this is your jam. And trust me, it’s not just another forgettable release; this thing sticks to your brain like gum on a hot summer day.
First off, let’s talk about “Don Den Machine.” Oh man, where do I even start? This track kicks off like someone revving up a chainsaw at 3 AM—it grabs you by the collar and doesn’t let go. The riffs are sharp enough to cut glass, but what really gets me is how chaotic yet controlled it feels. Like yeah, they’re going full throttle, but there’s still this weird sense of precision. You can tell these guys weren’t messing around—they had something to say, even if it came out sounding like barely-contained rage wrapped in distortion. Honestly, every time I hear those opening notes, I feel like I’m back in some dingy underground club, sweat dripping down my face while everyone loses their minds.
Then there’s “Same” (which literally translates to "Shark"). How could I NOT mention this one? It’s got this swagger to it—a mix of pissed-off energy and dark humor that just works. The vocals sound like they’re being spat out through gritted teeth, and the bassline? Damn near hypnotic. There’s this moment halfway through where everything drops out except for this eerie guitar line, and suddenly you’re left hanging, wondering what hit you. It’s unsettling but so damn cool. By the end, you’re left feeling like you’ve been through some kind of sonic war zone—and honestly, isn’t that what good punk should do?
Now, don’t get me wrong—the rest of the tracks hold their own too. “God Bless” has this sarcastic bite to it that makes me laugh every time, and “Sleep One’s Lost Sleep” closes things out with this haunting vibe that lingers long after the music stops. But it’s those first two tracks that keep pulling me back in. They’re messy, loud, and unapologetically themselves—kinda like life itself, ya know?
Reflecting on Cyborg Keikaku, I can’t help but think about how albums like this remind us why music matters. In a world obsessed with polish and perfection, here’s a record that says, “Nah, we’re keeping it real.” And maybe that’s why it stuck around in my head all these years later. Or maybe it’s because listening to it feels like getting electrocuted in the best possible way. Either way, props to Same for creating something that still feels dangerous decades later.
Oh, and here’s a random thought to leave you with: if cyborgs ever take over the world, I hope they program this album into their systems. Maybe then they’d understand humans a little better—or at least learn how to throw a killer mosh pit.
