Posts Tagged ‘album review’
Thursday, November 17th, 2011 by Jen Wang
Tokyo-born songwriter Mio Soul makes her debut with In My Skin. The EP contains the heavy drum beats and smooth melodies of contemporary R&B with flavors of pop, dance, and jazz. Simple yet candid, the lyrics are in English, except for the rap in “Let’s Party” where Mio effortlessly flows in and out of her native language. “Promise” chronicles Mio’s pursuit of her dreams in New York City and features sensual vocals complemented by airy piano trills. The final track, “Out of My Life”, takes a complete 180 from the sweetness of “I Wish” in the beginning. Mio engages an ex-lover in a showdown with passionate vocals and sexy Spanish guitars. Even though she sings that her “story’s ended” for that person, it has only just begun in the music world.
I had the opportunity to ask my fellow biologist via email about her career change, the “I Wish” PV, and her involvement with music-related charities.
What made you change from being a biologist to a musician?
When it comes to biology, I had a huge influence from my father. My mom, however, is a pianist, so music was always around me as a child. In college I was so curious about the connection of brain function and soul (heart)…I enjoyed all of the field work. I did, however, want to do music more than anything else. I started performing more and attending singer and dancer showcases, and these live performances just really fueled me to continue pursuing music.
Science is a real academic thing. You use instruments and theories to find the truth. When it comes to music, singing or making beats is the art of using your own instrument (your body and soul) to express your truth.
Did you have any formal vocal training?
Yes, I had two amazing vocal coaches since moving to NYC: Stacey Penson and Jamelle Jones. The best vocal training was…wait, should I mention this secret? I can give a hint: it has to do with going to church on Sunday.
How did you overcome the challenges you faced when you moved to New York City?
All my determination has made me stronger and stronger I think. I talk to God often. I still have a lot to learn but I have kept going and now I have got some great people around me. Meeting great people and being around people with good energy is so inspiring.
Why did you decide to rap in Japanese in “Let’s Party”?
I was planning to do something else during the song’s break down, but I started fooling around with actually rapping in Japanese…and it fit perfectly, in my opinion, so I just recorded it!
What did you want to convey through having female vampires in the “I Wish” PV?
I wanted to give people a totally different visual image for how “I Wish” sounds. MeccaGodZilla helped me create the idea and write the script for something that just challenges the mind and what people normally would go with. We were inspired by The Lost Boys, but we made this into a love story.
Do you have any favorite vampire stories or movies?
Oh yes! I’ve watched Bram Stoker’s Dracula recently. I also really like Queen of the Damned since I’m a huge fan of Aaliyah.
Your songs and your blog posts are very honest. Are you ever afraid of revealing too much about yourself?
Thank you for noticing that. I actually don’t mind doing it because it’s me, it’s my life, I don’t really have anything to hide. As the title of my EP expresses, my songs are a part of me. I just want people to have dreams and share good times as much as possible…just like me.
How did you get involved in the Domo Arigato Festival and Music 4 Orphans?
My friends from New York came up with the idea first because they toured Japan together a few months prior. They really appreciate my country so they wanted to do something for Japan in return. I wanted to assist them and be part of the show, and they let me help.
I joined the Music 4 Orphans project shortly after a business contact introduced me to the organizer of the project. Music 4 Orphans helps to give the youth an opportunity to learn music education so I am really excited to assist them.
What’s next for Mio Soul?
This is just, just, just the beginning. I am working on the next videos so those might be coming soon. I will make more music, more videos, and I want to do more live performances…you know, visit way more cities and connect with people. That’s very important to me and my focus at the moment.
Purple SKY, thank you so much for this.
Mio Soul’s official website – http://www.iammiosoul.com/
Tags: album review, Domo Arigato Festival, interview, Mio Soul, Music 4 Orphans, New York City, r&b, vampires
Posted in interview, r&b, review | 5 Comments »
Friday, December 25th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
One of Cocco’s greatest strengths is her use of extremes. She understands that a powerful moment becomes all the more intense when paired with its opposite. Her recent albums are more consistent in mood, but 1998’s surreal-sounding Kumuiuta had her most deft contrast.
The a capella lullaby “Chiisana Ame no Hi no Kuwamui” makes the sinister riffs of follow-up “Nureta Yurikago” even more cathartic. The explosive, terror-filled choruses of “Ratai” heighten the uneasiness of its ambiguous ending. “Unai” provides a cool-down after the grand “Raining.” The creak-filled “Rose letter,” about a bitter confrontation with a traitor, gives way to a children’s song about eating a farm pig before it’s sold off. Cocco snorts like a pig before the band kicks in, and she sings the lyrics in an adorable yet creepy deadpan.
That isn’t to say Kumuiuta is all an exercise in yin and yang. Some of its best moments are the moderate ones. “Tsuyoku Hakanai Monotachi” is a rocker reliant on an undulating rhythm instead of heavy riffs. The string instruments in “Utakata” set a tranquil mood but never overtake it.
Kumuiuta may not rock out as much as the albums bookending it, but it still packs quite the punch. The dreamy soundscapes don’t last long before they abruptly turn into nightmares.
Tags: album review, cd review, chiisana ame no hi no kuwamui, cocco, kumuiuta, my dear pig, nureta yurikago, raining, ratai, reviews, rose letter, tsuyoku hakanai monotachi, unai, utakata, vault review, victoria goldenberg
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Thursday, December 24th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
When Cocco left the music industry in 2001 (she officially returned in 2006), she released a best-of that went beyond the obligatory singles collection. The two-disc collection includes 11 singles, seven B-sides, three album tracks and five exclusive songs; the first press edition had a third CD with a track from Cocco’s sought-after indies single and “Hiyoko Buta no Theme Part 2,” her contribution to the children’s show Minna no Uta. The collection’s an excellent value for fans collecting Cocco’s songs and a thorough primer for new listeners.
Best + Ura Best + Mihappyo Kyokushuu covers a broad range of Cocco’s territory, though none of her ironic children’s songs made the cut. You get the heavy rock of “Mizu Kagami”; the ethereal beauty of “Jukai no Ito”; the minimalism of “Kutsushita no Himitsu” and “Ame Furashi”; the anthemic “Sing a Song~No Music, No Life~”; and many of the introspective rockers most definitive of Cocco’s style, such as “Raining” and “Hane~lay down my arms~.”
Best is testament to the strength of Cocco’s catalogue on the whole. Her B-sides and previously unreleased tracks hold their own against her singles and album tracks; a new listener might have trouble distinguishing which is which. A B-side track, “Way Out,” launches the compilation strikingly. It begins with 13 seconds of feedback before Cocco summons her band with a six-second scream. Her singing grows increasingly aggressive, reaching a wordless cry at the end of the chorus. It’s one of the hardest and most powerful songs Cocco’s ever written.
“Sweet Berry Kiss” and “Mokumaou” demonstrate Cocco’s preternatural talent for combining gorgeous rock melodies and honest, poetic lyrics to create moving songs. Meanwhile, “Ame Furashi” reveals her tender side. The cheery atmosphere of “Shiawase no Komichi” belies the violent fate of its protagonists. Closer “Ibara” has the troubled singer declare she would rather continue living with pain than be free of it. “I want to fall down/I don’t need to fly/I’m sure I can run/this body/should be able to live/even barefoot,” she sings. The reverb makes Cocco’s sound voice distant, possibly alluding to her departure from the music scene.
As with any compilation, individual fans will gripe about favorite songs that didn’t make it. Cocco’s cover of “Rainbow” by Dr. StrangeLove (an excellent duo that composed her production team and the backbone of her band at the time) is far more interesting than the relatively bland “Again.” The a cappella tune “Mafuyu no Suika” shows off how Cocco’s vocal color can set an ominous mood all by itself. But these omissions don’t change the fact that Best is a strong collection on its own.
But, by nature of being a compilation, it lacks the punch that Cocco’s focused original albums deliver. It’s a more intellectual listen, a study of the remarkable consistency and strength of an unusual artist at her peak. If you like what you hear on this best-of, do check out Cocco’s first four original albums to experience how much better these songs sound within context. Best was the first Cocco album I bought, but it was an original ones–Sangrose–that made her my favorite artist. That album’s cohesion and vision left such an impression on me that I had to get the three preceding it ASAP.
But for the uninitiated, Best is still a good way to find out what Cocco was about during the time she made her hardest, most impressive music. What was meant to close a career now closes a musical chapter in Cocco’s life.
Translation of Ibara’s lyrics by Brian Stewart
Tags: again, alanis morissette, album review, ame furashi, b-sides, best+ura best+mihappyou kyokushuu, centigrade-j, cocco, dr. strangelove, hane~lay down my arms~, haresugita sora, hoshi no umareru hi, ibara, jukai no ito, kutsushita no himitsu, mafuyu no suika, minna no uta, mizu kagami, mokumaou, no life~, rainbow, raining, review, reviews, sangrose, shiawase no komichi, sing a song~no music, no life~, sweet berry kiss, tsuyoku hakanai monotachi, vault review, victoria goldenberg, way out
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Thursday, December 24th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Cocco’s major debut single from 1997, “Count Down,” is a heavy monster of a song that threatens a man who spurned the singer-songwriter. An unsettling, ticking drumbeat gives way to grungy guitar explosions as Cocco details the ways she will beat up the traitor, leaving him licking her toes and begging for forgiveness. The song ends with her counting down before she shoots the man, but we never get to find out his fate.
This would’ve been a bold song to release in the United States, where Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know” was controversial and punk pianist Amanda Palmer’s “Leeds United” video was nearly censored because Roadrunner Records thought the artist didn’t look sexy enough. That the album containing it, Bougainvillea, was a top 40 hit and the artist herself would eventually have a number one record in the notoriously conservative Japan are even more remarkable.
Not to make Cocco sound like a shock value artist merely trying to push the envelope. Rather, she’s someone who writes music to exorcise her emotions. Listen to her music or read her lyrics and you’ll recognize those demons deep inside yourself, hidden under layers of social norms and self-censorship. Speedstar Records deserves credit for signing Cocco and letting her release this music and wear plain dresses and no makeup.
Cocco’s lightened up over the years, but her 1997 debut album Bougainvillea is still a watershed. It’s her darkest, most lyrically direct recording, and it established Cocco as an artist who could wield a variety of genres and still put together a cohesive album. “Kubi” opens with a rising, dissonant violin solo before Cocco cuts in, her voice distorted as she wails about her conflicting emotions over the termination of a long relationship. “Rain man” is a pained lullaby sung in competent English, while “Nemureru Mori no Oujisama~Haru*Natsu*Aki*Fuyu~” is a crushing rocker that leaves even the singer herself panicked and gasping for breath by the end. “Gajumaru no Ki” has serious lyrics about feeling out of control and aimless as an adult, but it’s played as a major key children’s song. “Somebody, stop me/put me down/and bind me to that tree/somebody, please stop me/tie me to that tree so tight/when the morning comes/Am I still gonna be alive?” Cocco sings over the sound of a marimba and recorder.
Bougainvillea also tackles a variety of lyrical subjects fantastically. “Isho,” a sparse song in which Cocco asks her lover to kill her if she ever becomes brain dead, is so haunting it reportedly brought X Japan guitarist Hide to tears. On the other end of the spectrum, the upbeat “Sing A Song~No Music, No Life~” builds off “No Smoking” signs into an anthem for creative expression, complete with cute doodles to accompany the lyrics. (If the subtitle sounds familiar, Tower Records adopted it as the permanent slogan for its Japan stores and used it occasionally in the U.S.)
Though emotional music can fall flat with the wrong singer, Cocco has the perfect expressive voice for her work. Her tone quality is crisp and pure, and her range is capable of everything from a ghostly whisper to freakout scream. But Cocco understands efficiency, and she can convey a large scope of feelings through subtle changes in color or by adding a slight spit or fragile quiver. Even at her most tender moments, Cocco always has a detectable chilliness to her singing, adding to the depth of her songs. But most important, she sounds authentic. You could spend hours dissecting the inflections in her singing, and yet none of them comes off calculated.
I don’t agree with the cliché “Music is a universal language” because some layers get lost when you don’t understand the lyrics. (And cultural context, and the rhetorical devices within the songs, and so on.) Most of Cocco’s CDs, Bougainvillea included, come with decent English translations, but I’m sure the listening experience is far more intense for someone who knows what the songs are about without having to grab the lyric booklet. But even with this handicap, Bougainvillea is still a profound experience. The emotion in Cocco’s singing, the crunchy guitars, and the turbulent drums are instantly recognizable and relatable. Cocco’s music isn’t just about herself, it’s about the humanity inside all of us.
English lyrics taken from the Bougainvillea lyric booklet. Translation by Kazuomi Kajihara and Toni Pedecine.
Tags: alanis morissette, album review, amanda palmer, bougainvillea, cd review, cocco, count down, gajumaru no ki, hide, isho, j-rock, kazuomi kajihara, kubi, marimba, nemureru mori no oujisama~haru*natsu*aki*fuyu~, rain man, recorder, review, roadrunner records, sing a song~no music, no life~, speedstar records, toni pedecine, tower records, vault review, victoria goldenberg, x, x japan, you oughta know
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Thursday, December 24th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
It’s getting harder to call Cocco just a musician. Though she’s been a jack-of-all-trades (and a master of them, too) for years, she increasingly splits her time between her writing, art and environmental activism. On top of that, she’s raising a child and overcoming ongoing mental illness. So it’s understandable that the Okinawan artist has been slow on the music. Though she contributed to other people’s music—she sang for Kiyoshi Takakuwa’s solo project, Curly Giraffe, and wrote a song for the pop idol alan at her request—Cocco didn’t release something of her own until nearly two years after Dugong no Mieru Oka. Cocco-san no Daidokoro, a music accompaniment to the artist’s same-titled book, was initially released as a digital EP in August and then as a disc in September. It has just four songs.
But scarcity suits Cocco. The long wait (by the Japanese music industry’s fast-paced standards) helps listeners savor the beauty in her compositions. Cocco-san no Daidokoro CD is one of the best works in the mellow and optimistic approach the singer has taken since her 2005 comeback. Each track is themed around a season and Cocco’s personal associations with them.
Spring song “Kinuzure” is the kind of soaring, powerful ballad Cocco excels at, in the vein of “Ryuuseigun” and “San” without sounding like a repeat. “The end of Summer” is a peaceful, contemplative reflection on a summer night, with a performance centered mostly on Cocco’s acoustic guitar and soft singing in English. “Bye Bye Pumpkin Pie,” a song written and fleshed out over the Kira Kira tour, takes on autumn duties here. Similarly to the rendition on the tour DVD, it has a gorgeous melody and playful-sounding arrangement that incorporates a tin whistle, glockenspiel and euphonium. Cocco delivers an excellent vocal performance, tender in the soft moments and heart-wrenchingly passionate when she belts in the chorus and ad-libbed sections. Crisp guitar work makes winter tune “Ai ni Tsuite” the most rock song on the mini album. The ethereal backing vocals recall “Shinayaka Ude no Inori,” but the rapidly sung bridge is a first for Cocco.
The production has the airy sound Cocco has opted for since parting ways with longtime producer and bassist Takamune Negishi in 2006. Though Cocco penned a rocking song for alan, she’s clearly sticking with soft music for her own career. She seems, overall, less tormented than she did in the past, and her performances of turbulent songs like “Way Out” and “Kemono Michi” on the Kira Kira DVD feel less emotionally intense than older ones. Cocco’s always written music true to herself, so her new, easygoing style represents her personality these days. It’s understandable she wants lighter production to match her happier sound, but it’s still easy to miss how Negishi’s gritty production and bass used to contrast Cocco’s skyward melodies.
More troubling is that Cocco’s singing shows strain on the high notes. I hope it’s merely a temporary side effect from her recent struggles and not something permanent. But perhaps her years of smoking have finally caught up with her. Cocco has maintained one of the most pure and emotive voices in the industry, and it’s especially vital since her new music has narrower appeal than the hard rock that made her famous.
Cocco’s official site currently displays two photos of Cocco wishing you a merry Christmas and holding a sign that says she’s recording. It’s been more than two years since Cocco’s most recent album, so it’s good to know the wait won’t be much longer.
Tags: ai ni tsuite, alan, album review, bye bye pumpkin pie, cd review, christmas, cocco, cocco-san no daidokoro, cocco-san no daidokoro cd, curly giraffe, dugong no mieru oka, euphonium, glockenspiel, j-pop, j-rock, kemono michi, kinuzure, kira kira, kiyoshi takekuwa, mini album review, Okinawa, review, ryuuseigun, san, shinayaka ude no inori, takakuwa kiyoshi, takamune negishi, the end of summer, throat, tin whistle, victoria goldenberg, way out
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Wednesday, December 23rd, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Sometimes you have to see musicians live to get them. I had previewed the bands playing the Far East to East Showcase at Webster Hall prior to the event on Sept. 27 , and Gelatine didn’t grip me instantly. My first impression, based off performance videos of singer Seiko shrieking and marching around in a diaper, was that the New York-based Japanese band belonged squarely to the subset of wacky Japanese punk rock, where the hyper music is matched by the band members’ eccentric stage presence. Though I enjoy several such bands, Gelatine didn’t strike me as adding anything new or distinctive to the formula.
That impression changed when I saw the band live. Entering The Studio after attending AKB48’s glossy and highly packed pop concert, I was struck by the dim lighting and intimate feel of the tiny bar in Webster Hall—and how well opener Gelatine matched them. I wasn’t wrong about the band’s strangeness. A bondage-clad Seiko shrieked, stomped and headbanged to the wild music, guitarist Jun delivered his MCs in a novel metal growl, and keyboardist Waiko wore a schoolgirl uniform. But their music and performance had a distinctive dark, deranged mood suited to an underground club show.
Gie Ji Gaii is Gelatine’s first album, released nine years into the band’s lifetime, and it recreates the live experience admirably. The raw production is easy on the ears and makes me feel like I’m back in The Studio on Sept. 27. Even without the visual element, Gelatine’s murky punk has a prominent gloomy undertone that adds dimension to their music and anchors their hyperactivity, a refreshing change of pace from peers content to be superlatively happy. “Let’s Go Gelatine” sounds chaotic and agitated for a band theme song. The grungy, stop-start “‘Cause My Mom Said So” sounds manic, angry, evil, disturbed, and mischievous–all at once.
People often go to concerts because they’re fans of the performers’ recorded music, but Gelatine is one band for which the opposite works better. See them live first, then check out the CD. You’ll understand their music better that way.
Tags: 10yen ana-kinoko, AKB48, album review, cd review, Far East To East Showcase, Gelatine, gie ji gaii, j-rock, New York Anime Fest, NYAF, punk, review, seiko, takeshita jun, the studio, victoria goldenberg, waiko, Webster Hall
Posted in indie, review, rock | No Comments »
Monday, December 7th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
You’ve got to admire Ringo Shiina’s creative choices. She might have ended up locked in a cycle of trying to top herself after 2003’s Karuki Zaamen Kurinohana, a masterfully ambitious and critically acclaimed fusion of rock, classical music, electronica and hip-hop that managed to be one of the best pop albums of the decade.
Instead, she circumvented this outcome by defying expectations and going simpler. She formed a band, Tokyo Jihen, whose jazz-rock sound relied on a smaller sonic palette than her solo music. For their third album, she didn’t compose a single song. In 2007, she collaborated with violinist Neko Saito on Heisei Fuuzoku primarily to strip KZK’s multilayered songs down to jazz standards.
Sanmon Gossip is Shiina’s first solo album since 2003, but it is still rather collaborative, featuring musicians such as Soil & “Pimp” Sessions, Mummy-D of Rhymester and Masayuki Hiizumi of Pe’z (and formerly of Tokyo Jihen). It’s a logical next step in Shiina’s recent direction, a cohesive set of hook-free light jazz and vintage pop interjected with jarring elements such as the rapping in “Ryuukou.” Expect lots of flutes and saxophones to compliment the singer’s pouty vocals.
Although Sanmon Gossip is very good, it’s also Shiina’s most inscrutable album yet. Yes, it’s intellectually satisfying to see an artist sing what she wants without worrying about commercial appeal. But unless you share Ringo’s tastes, do you really want to listen to an album she’s written for herself? Shiina’s first three albums were genius in how they balanced artistry and pop. Her eclectic ambition was matched by her accessible hooks and refreshing sense of humor—coughing at the end of the album version of “Koufukuron (Etsuraku-hen)” and dancing goofily to “Tsumiki Asobi.” Her eccentric image and nails-on-chalkboard singing were meant to shock you and get you to pay attention to find out what was the deal with this woman. By then, you were marveling at Shiina’s ability to craft songs and albums out of clashing genres and spice them up with details like symmetrical tracklists. Her music was art that most people could get into with just a bit of patience.
A month before Sanmon Gossip came out, Shiina released a red herring single. The title song, “Ariamaru Tomi,” is a warm and instantly likable pop ballad. The B-side, “SG~Superficial Gossip~,” temporarily revives the KZK eclecticism fans have been craving. At the time “SG” was new, people hoped the title’s similarity to Sanmon Gossip meant the song was a preview of the album’s sound.
A stuffy, barbershop-influenced version of Shiina classic “Marunouchi Sadistic” closes Sanmon Gossip. It’s one of the most illuminating tracks on the album—in a wrong way. Older Ringo self-covers, such as the punk remake of “Koufukuron” and Broadway ballad version of the techno-infused “Yokushitsu,” made the songs sound entirely new but on par with their originals. This version of “Marunouchi Sadistic” comes off as a boring step-down. Shiina’s nodding to her past but sticking with a musical direction that doesn’t do it justice.
Or maybe you just have to be Ringo Shiina to get it.
Tags: album review, ariamaru tomi, CD, heisei fuuzoku, karuki zaamen kurinohana, koufukuron, koufukuron (etsuraku-hen), marunouchi sadistic, masayuki hiizumi, mummy-d, neko saito, pe'z, review, rhymester, ringo shiina, ryuukou, sanmon gossip, sg~superficial gossip~, shiina ringo, soil & "pimp" sessions, tokyo jihen, tsumiki asobi, victoria goldenberg, yokushitsu
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Wednesday, September 16th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Speed stole the thunder from its own CD. The seminal Speed girls, now in their 20s and reunited for the long term, sing mature reinterpretations of their teenage anthems of friendship and growing up in Speedland~The Premium Best Re Tracks~. But since we’ve already heard them perform those songs as adults—mostly live, but sometimes in studio recordings—in the 2001 and 2003 Speed reunions, this self-cover album isn’t surprising.
That said, Speedland is still a damn fun album. No matter how many times these songs are repackaged, they’re still a joy to listen to because they’re strong pop music. Speed has qualities rare in modern J-pop girl groups: distinctive songs with a funky groove penned by Ichiji Hiromasa, unique and skilled singing, and chemistry from the members’ genuine friendship (the four met and formed at the Okinawan Actors School). So yes, we can forgive the girls for recording a third studio version of “White Love” because it still sounds good.
The changes to the songs range from a new coat of polish (“Nettaiya”) to remodeling (a breezy house remix of “Wake Me Up!”). A new bridge gives Speed’s 1999 breakup single “Long Way Home” a more hopeful mood than the bittersweet original. “Snow Kiss” and “White Love” stray less, but their arrangements have a modern freshness and cleanness. “Breakin’ out to the morning” has a pulsating rhythm and incorporates the ending rap Speed performed in live versions of the song.
Others don’t work as well. The keyboard-based “Steady” lacks the depth of the brassy 1996 version, and “Nettaiya” doesn’t reveal anything new.
Lead singers Shimabukuro Hiroko and Imai Eriko show off how much their vocals have improved. They now sing the ad-libs on “Body & Soul,” previously left to backing gospel singers. Their adult voices bring smoothness and maturity to “Precious Time,” a nice contrast to the original’s shout-singing. Imai sings in a slick and controlled croon, and Shimabukuro incorporates technique from her favorite genre, jazz. They sometimes strain to reach notes they first sang more than a decade ago, (see “Alive” and “Go! Go! Heaven”), but it’s inevitable.
Even though the new vocals are technically better, they don’t match the appeal of Speed’s teenage singing. Although their high-pitched sing-shouting was an acquired taste, it had an infectious exuberance that could only have been recorded by young girls who were truly that excited by the future.
“Gonna keep on growing up!” Speed proclaims in “Wake Me Up!” In the 1997 original, that sounded like a positive attitude toward life’s trials. But listening to the girls sing it in 2009 reminds the listener of how much they have grown up. Since Speed originally broke up in 2000, Imai has married and divorced and become a mother, Uehara Takako has stripped for an artsy photobook, and all four girls have seen their solo careers dwindle or disappear. And despite all these adult experiences, Speed isn’t keeping their promise of growing up. By reuniting and reperforming its old songs, the group is reaching back to its childhood glory.
It remains unclear what direction Speed will take next. The act has released two singles since reuniting last year—Ashita no Sora, a mid-tempo tune in Speed’s classic brass sound, and S.P.D, an R&B song that was written by overseas musicians and sounds like Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back.” However, only the former appears on Speedland, and the latter sold worse than the usual Speed CD. In a TV interview, the girls said they couldn’t see Speed still together five years from now. In that short time period, it would be unsurprising if they struck to what pleases rather than striving for evolution. As this album—somewhat sadly—demonstrates, nostalgia suits Speed. If you don’t worry about the group’s evolution, the recycled music is pure pop pleasure.
Tags: album review, alive, arakaki hitoe, ashita no sora, body & soul, breakin' out to the morning, elly, go! go! heaven, Hiro, ichiji hiromasa, imai eriko, j-pop, justin timberlake, long way home, nettaiya, new album, okinawan actors school, pop, precious time, reviews, s.p.d, sexy back, shimabukuro hiroko, speed, speedland~the premium best re tracks~, steady, throat, uehara takako, victoria goldenberg, wake me up!, white love
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Sunday, August 2nd, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
The brilliant green vocalist Kawase Tomoko’s concurrent solo careers, nerdy 80’s pop singer Tommy february6 and eyeliner-caked rocker Tommy heavenly6, were traditionally a chance for the entire band to let loose and make funny—but still quality—songs about baby candy pop and jumping pumpkin monsters. Literally, the entire band: Bassist Okuda Shunsaku and guitarist Matsui Ryo wrote the songs under pseudonyms. The bubblegum world Kawase fashioned for herself—where she was alternately drunk or sugar high, and surrounded by cheerleaders and toys—provided an endearing, comic alternative the brilliant green’s no-frills rock ‘n’ roll approach.
But with the brilliant green MIA and solo Kawase frequently releasing musical treats, we weren’t getting a substantial main course of music.
Maybe Kawase felt as overdosed on candy corn and lollipops as we did, because her third solo album as Tommy heavenly6, lovably titled I Kill My Heart, is a drastic and edifying departure from the act’s previous bubblegum rock albums. It’s based on a 90’s alternative rock sound like the Smashing Pumpkins. (Now Kawase’s lyrics about pumpkins carry a new meaning.)
The growling guitars and gloominess of “Wait For Me There” recall the brilliant green’s excellent Los Angeles. “Leaving You” is eerily spacey, while the guitars screech in “Shut Up.” In the closing track “You Should Live in the Sunny Light,” Kawase sings with just the accompaniment of a guitar.
Compared to Tommy’s earlier albums, and even the brilliant green’s, I Kill My Heart is surprisingly devoid of hooks and compositional variety. No ballads like “Hey My Friend” change up the flow, no ambitious songs like “Lollipop Candy Bad Girl” provide a centerpiece, and no catchy choruses like that of “Heavy Starry Chain” get stuck in your head. Instead, the songwriting focuses on creating a low-key, melancholic mood and avoids anything that would have compromised it. At only 37 minutes, the album makes for a nice injection of darkness without lasting long enough to become monotonous. But fans expecting more of Kawase’s pop-rock confections may not warm up to I Kill My Heart.
They will be happy that the singer’s memorably quirky lyrics remain intact. “Why do you have to kill the prince?/Why do you kill yourself?” Kawase asks in “Sad End To A Fairy Tale,” one of the best songs on the album. “Wait For Me There” name-checks a number of Kawase’s favorite subjects, such as in the verse “The candy house is screaming out!/I’m running through the dancing tombstones/The pumpkin fields forever!” These funny lyrics contrast nicely against the dark music and remind us Kawase never takes herself too seriously.
The brilliant green have said they’ve left their old management and are working on a comeback. I Kill My Heart makes a nice transition between Kawase’s solo music and her meatier band work, but it is also a great album in its own right. If this turns out to be the last Tommy album, it’s a pleasantly surprising closing that reassures us the pumpkin fields will be forever, even if Tommyheavenly6 won’t.
Tags: 2009, album, album review, CD, hey my friend, i kill my heart, j-pop, j-rock, kawase tomoko, matsui ryo, okuda shunsaku, sad end to a fairy tale, shut up, smashing pumpkins, the brilliant green, tommy february6, tommy heavenly6, victoria goldenberg, wait for me there, you should live in the sunny light
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Thursday, July 2nd, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Articles about The Shins often mention the scene in Garden State in which Natalie Portman hands her headphones to actor-director Zach Braff and says, “Listen to this; it will change your life.”
In some alternate universe where Mr. Braff is a huge J-rock fan, he could have written the scene about Cocco, and music writers would cite it to describe the singer’s appeal.
So I implore you, in my best Natalie Portman impression (“All the kids looking up to me can…”), listen to Cocco’s fourth album, Sangrose: Its emotional power will change your life.
Take “Why do I love you,’” an English-language song about the complicated feelings associated with domestic abuse. In two brief verses, one delivered over silence, Cocco describes her lover’s violence and her confusing loyalty to him. “Take away the blood from my head ‘cause I don’t know how can I love you more,” she pleads. But Cocco forgoes wordy narrative lyrics and gets into the intensity of the emotion with cries of “Don’t kill me.” Each heart-wrenching repetition makes the listener feel Cocco’s terror more and more. A bridge with nauseous-sounding moans conveys a feeling of dizzy distress, one which Cocco threatens she may need to end in murder.
The song was an epiphany the first time I listened to it as a teenager craving artistic authenticity. It demonstrates music’s potential not just to portray emotion but to become it. Radio emo’s petty self-pitying tendencies may have made people hesitant toward emotional music, but “Why do I love you” restores dignity to it. At the very least, it will make you a bigger Cocco fan.
Sangrose was released in 2001 and billed as Cocco’s last studio album before she retired from music for mysterious reasons. In the end, Cocco just went on a four-year hiatus from commercial music; people speculate she took the time off to give birth and raise the son she kept secret until 2007. Sangrose is mostly softer and slower than the albums that preceded it, which made it a contemplative closing to Cocco’s career at the time. In hindsight, it also fits her overall her creative path, bridging the bitter, hard music of her early years with the gentle, folksy approach of her post-hiatus sound. Because of its gradual pace, Sangrose is an acquired taste. Cocco’s first three albums deliver more instantly gratifying heavy tracks, and are thus safer bets for introductory albums.
Yet if you give it the time, Sangrose reveals its strengths as a whole. Cocco has a remarkable instinct for restraint in composing her albums, containing the visceral moments in short bursts between pretty ballads, dreamy tracks and ironic children’s songs. She reached her apex with Sangrose. It was actually the first original Cocco album I bought, and at first, I was disappointed there weren’t more freakout songs like “Why do I love you” and “Wagamama na te.” As I listened more, I realized having more heavy tracks would dilute their specialness and reduce the emotional complexity of Cocco’s catalogue. Besides, Sangrose has a distinct flow, and by the time you reach Cocco’s passionate shout-singing at the end of the expansive “Coral Reef,” you feel like you’ve completed a journey.
And if some indie rock can change your life, Cocco certainly can, too.
Tags: album review, albums, cocco, garden state, j-rock, japanese music, lyrics, natalie portman, reviews, sangrose, vault, vault review, victoria goldenberg, zach braff
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Tokyo-born songwriter Mio Soul makes her debut with In My Skin. The EP contains the heavy drum beats and smooth melodies of contemporary R&B with flavors of pop, dance, and jazz. Simple yet candid, the lyrics are in English, except for the rap in “Let’s Party” where Mio effortlessly flows in and out of her native language. “Promise” chronicles Mio’s pursuit of her dreams in New York City and features sensual vocals complemented by airy piano trills. The final track, “Out of My Life”, takes a complete 180 from the sweetness of “I Wish” in the beginning. Mio engages an ex-lover in a showdown with passionate vocals and sexy Spanish guitars. Even though she sings that her “story’s ended” for that person, it has only just begun in the music world.
How did you overcome the challenges you faced when you moved to New York City?