Posts Tagged ‘reviews’
Thursday, October 7th, 2010 by Victoria Goldenberg
“Seems like yesterday,” Tomoko Kawase sings on The Brilliant Green’s single “Like Yesterday.” When the song came out in February, things did seem like yesterday. The Brilliant Green were back with their first single in two years, picking up where they left off with their no-frills British rock sound. Backed by a new label, the trio promised to resume its activities in full and release its first album in eight years. The announcement was cathartic for those of us who hung around during BuriGuri’s hiatus from 2002 to 2007 and wanted more than the three singles we got from 2007 to 2008.
It didn’t stay like yesterday for long. Three months later, guitarist and sometimes songwriter Ryo Matsui abruptly quit the band. (Although Matsui asked fans to continue supporting The Brilliant Green as a duo, Kawase’s word choice in this Japan Times interview appears to imply the split wasn’t amicable.)
While I lost significant interest in The Brilliant Green and expected they would be a shadow of their former selves without Matsui, I assumed the songwriting would stay more or less intact. Bassist Shunsaku Okuda has always written the majority—and often the best—of the band’s material.
It turns out Matsui must have had a larger influence on BuriGuri’s direction than the song credits showed, because their comeback Blackout sounds like…a Tommy heavenly6 album. Aside from the singles and a note-for-note cover of Blur’s “Song 2,” most songs bear Tommy’s angsty pop-rock stamp more than The Brilliant Green’s laid-back Britrock vibe. Even the lyrics sound like Heavenly lyrics: “We ride into the fake moonlight,” “Don’t call me/I’m in a bad mood and drowsy,” “I swear I’ll make you smile.”
Blackout’s a good album, but it’s disappointing. The Brilliant Green didn’t need to get back together to make music Kawase could have recorded as a soloist. It makes me wonder: Are Kawase and Okuda making the best of their situation by writing what they like? Are they trying to stick with the music that sold so many solo Tommy CDs? Is Okuda merely accustomed to composing these types of songs after six straight years of composing for Tommy heavenly6?
The Brilliant Green face the choice of how—or even, whether—to distinguish their new work from Tommy heavenly6’s and that of their years with Matsui. Though I’d have preferred Blackout sounded like yesterday, I’m interested in hearing BuriGuri sound like tomorrow.
Tags: blackout, blur, cd reviews, reviews, ryo matsui, shunsaku okuda, the brilliant green, tommy heavenly6, tomoko kawase, victoria goldenberg
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Thursday, October 7th, 2010 by Victoria Goldenberg
A preview review for the Far East to East Showcase
The multicultural New York City has a history of incubating bands that cross the borders between Japan and the United States, such as Cibo Matto, Peelander-Z and Gelatine. By mixing sounds—and sometimes band members—from both countries, they challenge our assumptions about what constitutes a Japanese or American music act.
Ambient band Echostream occupies common ground between the American gothic and Japanese Visual Kei scenes. The members hail from both the United States (Tony Grund, CJ and Jen) and Japan (Ryoko, Tomo Asaha). While they’ve earned VK cred from touring with Blood, their English lyrics and moody ambient-rock mix hold a broader goth appeal.
One of Echostream’s greatest assets is one that sounds like a weakness on paper: Ryoko’s thin voice. A stronger singer could have made songs such as “Contagious” overdramatic—at least from the perspective of someone who’s not a fan of Visual Kei or goth music—but Ryoko’s human fragility reins them in.
The Duality of Courage closes with an atmospheric track of bells, thunder and other sounds (“Disturbance at 8 am”), a silent track and two untitled songs. The choice is interesting, but these songs don’t transition smoothly from the ones that precede them. For example, the volume is significantly lower on “Disturbance at 8 am.” I felt like I was listening to a different album.
That said, Echostream put on a fun show when I saw them at last year’s Far East to East Showcase, and they help bridge the Far East to the West. If you dig goth or Visual Kei culture more than I do, you’ll probably find plenty to enjoy.
Tags: blood, cd reviews, cibo matto, Echostream, Gelatine, goth, gothic, Peelander-Z, reviews, the duality of courage, victoria goldenberg, visual kei
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Tuesday, January 5th, 2010 by Victoria Goldenberg
Despite the international success of many Japanese classical musicians, Japanese band showcases in the United States rarely include the genre (the faux-classical posturing of many Visual Kei bands nonwithstanding). That made Kokusyoku Sumire a pleasant surprise at New York’s Far East to East Showcase in September. Singer-pianist Yuka and violinist Sachi filtered classical, opera and cabaret through the Gothic Lolita coolness of their matching outfits. They were the biggest hit of the night.
Version; a voyage is a three-song sampler CD-R that was sold at the Far East to East Showcase. It draws from the duo’s 2006-2008 work, and does a good job conveying their style and strengths, though not their breadth. Kokusyoku Sumire does not make background music; its dark, theatrical atmosphere permeates and takes you out of the present. Like the Dresden Dolls, the duo can create a full sound from just two instruments.
Their versatility is key. “Gekko Renka” has both girls switching responsibility for the march rhythm. Its calculated melody is punctuated by bursts of cathartic, cluttered dissonance from which Sachi’s violin flourishes fly out.
Pacing also plays an important role in their appeal; the vocal and violin trade-offs in “Towa ni Uruwashiku Sumire no Hana yo” lead the listener to focus alternately on Yuka’s opera-trained soprano and Sachi’s deft violin playing.
Kokusyoku Sumire’s songwriting is also refreshingly unpredictable. “Junketsu wa Aka” is slow until Sachi imitates an opening door with her violin, cueing the music into a fast frenzy.
Yuka and Sachi’s music is brainier than that of most Gothic Lolita-clad acts. It’s rich enough that you could spend hours dissecting the 13 minutes of Version; a voyage. At the same time, it’s not a difficult listen. The prominent melody and dusky tenor are instantly appealing and intriguing, and they make classical music hip for the J-pop culture crowd.
Tags: cd reviews, dresden dolls, Far East To East Showcase, gekko renka, gothic lolita, junketsu wa aka, Kokusyoku Sumire, review, reviews, sachi, towa ni uruwashiku sumire no hana yo, version; a voyage, victoria goldenberg, yuka
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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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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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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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Tuesday, June 30th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
It’s easy to understand why the Yoshida Brothers (Yoshida Kyoudai in Japan) are internationally popular. They’re shamisen virtuosos imaginative enough to take on all kinds of music with their nostalgic-sounding folk instrument, even a Radiohead song. Thus, Yoshida Kenichi and Ryouichirou can appeal to several demographics: shamisen lovers, fans of daring music and newbies to traditional Japanese music looking for a My First Shamisen to ease them in. Their ninth album and another fine addition to their repertoire, Prism, is on sale in the U.S., in case you fit any of the above categories and don’t want to pay for imports while the yen-dollar conversion rate is so ridiculous. (Where’s the bailout for J-music fans?)
Prism opens with the aforementioned Radiohead cover, “The National Anthem.” The Brothers’ chaotic rendition substitutes shamisen for the guitar riff and distorted female vocals for Thom Yorke’s mourn. It’s a headbobbing-worthy blend of rock and folk and Eastern and Western.
In the strikingly beautiful “One Long River,” the Yoshida Brothers weave their shamisen around ethereal, wordless female singing. “Red Bird” tilts the East-West balance toward the former, with a drum and violin unobtrusively backing the Brothers while they play the wistful-sounding Japanese melody.
Other tracks like “Michi” and “Hujin” deliver straight-up shamisen playing. They’re good songs and transition points for people easing into traditional folk. But even as a fan of the traditional shamisen music, I find them less interesting than the Yoshida Brothers’ idiosyncratic, creative blends of genres. The duo does better breaking new ground for the shamisen than honoring its origins.
Tags: album review, albums, CD, domo music group, Global, japanese music, new album, prism, radiohead, reviews, shamisen, traditional, us album, victoria goldenberg, yoshida brothers, yoshida kyoudai
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Sunday, March 29th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
This release ought to be billed as Cocco featuring alan.
For penning Chinese pop singer alan’s eighth Japanese single, Gunjou no Tani, Okinawan alt-pop queen Cocco gets almost as much billing as the artist herself—she’s mentioned on the front side of the CD spine, and her message appears alongside alan’s on the back cover.
But more important, the biggest reason to listen to “Gunjou no Tani” is that it’s is one of the best Cocco songs of the past three years. The nearly a cappella lullaby opening bursts into a soaring, radiant melody demonstrating her best songwriting without sounding like music she’s released before. And while many of Cocco’s post-comeback songs have sounded uncharacteristically hollow, “Gunjou no Tani” is heartfelt, rich with bravery and passion.
Alan’s interpretation of the song does it justice. Though she’s equipped with a typical idol tone quality—nasal and thin—alan sings well and emotionally, and stylizes her voice with gorgeous mountain wails in the choruses.
(Still, it’s tempting to imagine how much better “Gunjou no Tani” would have sounded with Cocco’s heart-wrenching pure tone and emotional range. May we have a self-cover, please?)
The arrangers bridge the gaps between Cocco’s rock sensibilities, and alan’s idol pop and Chinese background. Tasuku, who’s worked with Hamasaki Ayumi but also arranged Cocco’s 2003 song “Garnet,” filters the Okinawan musician’s ethereal rock through a shiny pop aesthetic. Alan plays the ehru on a coupling acoustic version (featuring re-performed vocals!) to highlight her Chinese background.
As the best work to come from Cocco in years and the best alan has sung yet, Gunjou no Tani makes you look forward to the women’s next individual projects. When Cocco releases new music, will it be this good? And do alan’s talent and musical taste mean she’s going to prove worthy of more than the generic Avex pop she’s been given so far?
Tags: alan, cocco, j-pop, new releases, reviews, single review, singles, victoria goldenberg
Posted in pop | 4 Comments »
Sunday, March 29th, 2009 by Victoria Goldenberg
Even back when he was in the garage rock band Number Girl, Mukai Shutoku weaved dub and dance music into his compositions. He brings those elements to the forefront in the 2008 album Zazen Boys 4, a dazzingly complicated and challenging dance-rock album.
“Asobi” opens the album with a dreamy, spacey sound that turns into a showcase of Mukai’s synth grooves. The funk rhythms of “Idiot Funk” are punctuated by Yoshikane Sou’s off-kilter guitar work.
Other tracks emphasize rock more than synth. “Honnoji” is an aggressive rocker, but is still backed by a complex, danceable rhythm from Matsushita Atsushi’s drums.
As with much of Zazen Boys’s music, Mukai writes few melodic vocal lines anymore—he lets the instruments do the talking. He delivers most of the lyrics in chants, growls and screeches that aren’t pretty, but add to the band’s distinct identity and difficult yet alluring sound. Only Mukai can scream “Fureai” over and over in the song of the same name and make it sound so danceable.
The one disappointing aspect of Zazen Boys 4 is the reworking of the single “I Don’t Wanna Be With You” as a 10-minute remix called “The Drifting/I Don’t Wanna Be With You.” The new music at the beginning is nice, but the rest of the track retains little of the original song and what made it so appealing. Gone are Yoshida Ichiro’s catchy bass riff and build-up when Mukai throttles from chanting to shrieking cathartically.
Still, including a remix seems like a smart gesture. It’s a nod to the 80’s dance pop that Zazen Boys re-imagined as this monster of an album.
Tags: album review, albums, indie, j-rock, reviews, victoria goldenberg, zazen boys
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