Fuzz

Where "Winter Again" opens its arms, "Fuzz" by MUCC closes its fists. The song earns its title immediately — a thick, abrasive guitar tone that doesn't just distort sound but distorts the emotional atmosphere of the room, coating everything in a grainy, slightly nauseating texture. MUCC has always operated in a space between visual kei's theatrical darkness and something more genuinely uncomfortable, and "Fuzz" sits toward the uncomfortable end of that spectrum. The rhythm section drives with a kind of compulsive momentum, not the triumphant forward motion of arena rock but something closer to the feeling of pacing — repetitive, contained, urgent. Tatsurou's voice here is raw in a specific way, less polished than his more melodic work, pushed to a place where technique gives way to pressure. The vocal melody cuts against the grain of the instrumentation rather than riding it, creating friction that feels intentional and meaningful. Lyrically the song deals in alienation and the body — the physical sensation of psychological disintegration — which was MUCC's consistent thematic territory in their mid-career work. This is music for people who find clean production slightly dishonest, who want sound that bears evidence of the making. It belongs to basement shows and small venues, to the visual kei underground of early 2000s Japan before the aesthetic became primarily cosplay. You'd play this while driving too fast or while sitting in complete stillness, the two states being more alike than they appear.