Last time around, m-flo delivered an album that was big on beats, hooks and singles. Threaded together by an imaginary interplanetary flight, Planet Shining introduced the world to a group that easily navigated R&B, hip-hop and even electronica.
With its new album Expo Expo, the Japanese trio deliver another hour of more of the same with one distinct difference — more filler.
Which is to say that the singles from Expo Expo — “How You Like Me Now?”, “come again” and “orbit-3” — stand out as stellar tracks against the not-as-insanely-catchy album tracks.
m-flo does try to stretch its musical muscle here and there. The title track zooms in and out of a dizzying array of tempo changes. “Yours only” showcases Lisa balladeering up there with Mariah Carrey and Utada Hikaru.
But when Verbal takes the mic and Lisa is nowhere to be found, Expo
Expo loses momentum. “Dispatch” is dead weight. “The Bandwagon” does an OK job of winding down the album, but it doesn’t have that sense of closure “been so long” possessed.
The remaining tracks on the album require a few listens before they reveal their appeal. “prism” makes for a sensible next single with its driving beat, and “magenta rain” has a really nice, jazzy, laid-back feel.
m-flo is no slouch in producing glossy, polished R&B pop, and Expo Expo is still light years better than the assembly-line teen craze
gripping the U.S. at the moment. But compared to the band’s shiny debut, this second album has a minor case of the sophomore slump.
Fans will love this album, but some of us part-time admirers can stick to putting “orbit-3” on repeat.
Utada Hikaru may come across as Japan’s post-teen version of Des’ree, but who she really wants to be is Sting.
With her meticulously crafted second album, Distance, Utada offers more of the same mature R&B pop that made First Love an worthy hit. But on a few tracks, “Hikki” strays just far enough from her tried-and-true formula to hint at the young star’s more ambitious aims.
For the most part, Utada doesn’t do anything too extreme to shock her fiercely loyal fan base. All the hit singles she’s released since First Love are all here and accounted for: “Wait and See ~RISK”, “For You”, “Time Limit”, “Can You Keep a Secret?”, “Addicted to You”.
A few of the remaining tracks — “Distance”, “Sunglass”, “Kotobani Naranai Kimochi” (“Indescribable Feelings”) — are by-the-numbers R&B tracks keeping with the album’s overall feel.
But then Utada indulges her more rock ‘n’ roll leanings at strategic points in the album.
The appropriately-titled “Parody” mirrors Sting’s “Englishman from New York” in structure, right down to the reggage beat on plucked strings and hip-hop outburst toward the end of the song. (“Never Let Go” from First Love went so far as to sample Sting’s “The Shape of My Heart.”)
On “Kettobasse!” (“Kick Them Away!”), Utada draws upon an early 80s new wave sound, while “Drama” imagines what Janet Jackson’s “Black Cat” would sound like filtered through Nirvana and Oblivion Dust.
By stepping out of the mold she cast for herself two years ago with First Love, Utada tells the world she’s capable of far more than crowd-pleasing, teen-friendly pop music. Indeed, she’s confessed her first love was rock ‘n’ roll before she discovered Whitney Houston.
But Utada is also a smart performer. Her husky alto doesn’t have the emotional resonance of UA or head-crushing force of Cocco. But it does suite the hooks Utada fashions for herself.
If anything, Distance is a songwriter’s showcase. The album is every bit as polished and crafted as its predecessor, even doing First Love one better by including a sliver more diversity.
Case in point: “Addicted to You.” The “Underwater Mix” released last year as a single is a far better version than the Jimmy Jam-Terry Lewis-produced “Up-in-Heaven Mix”, but in context of the album, the “Up-in-Heaven Mix” fits perfectly.
Utada and her army of producers know exactly what it takes to make this young woman’s talent appear as remarkable as it is.
If you’re loud, you’re more than likely fast. And if you’re slow, you’re more than likely quiet.
fra-foa, however, turn those expectations on their presumptuous heads.
The hard-rocking quartet from Japan have based its entire repertoire on slow, menacing songs with ear-crunching volume.
fra-foa’s debut album, Chuu no Fuchi, is a near-uniform collection of slow to mid-tempo rockers that are introspective one minute, chest-tearing the next.
Singer Mikami Chisako has been compared to Cocco, and in videos, Mikami flails around very similarly to Okinawa’s hardest rocking woman. But where Cocco’s pristine voice soars, Mikami roughens her throat and drags listeners into the aural equivalent of a mud pit.
When she growls at the chorus of “Mahiru no Himitsu”, it’s primal, and it’s beautifully chilling.
Most albums by Japanese artists average eleven tracks and clock in at around 45 minutes. The nine tracks on Chuu no Fuchi fall 10-minutes short of an hour.
As such, fra-foa’s songs unfold slowly and deliberately. The lack of discernible tempo changes between tracks might lull more inattentive listeners into boredom, but the forcefullness of fra-foa’s performance will make listeners pay close attention.
If you live with Chuu no Fuchi for a few days, melodies from “Mahiru no Himitsu”, “Aojiroi Tsuki” and “Plastic Room to Ame no Niwa” remain in your head hours after you’ve heard them.
Performing hard, rocking songs at a slow tempo is a risky enough proposition, but fra-foa have exactly what it takes to keep it interesting. Specifically, an intriguing lead singer and really good songs.
Onitsuka Chihiro’s debut album Insomnia is a country album. No, really.
Just pick up Kathy Mattea’s Love Travels or any of the last two Kim Richey albums. Play it side-by-side with Onitsuka’s Insomnia. Translated into English, any one of Onitsuka’s piano ballads could be crooned by a Music Row chanteuse.
And don’t think that’s a knock either.
Onitsuka’s introspective piano baladeering is supposed to come across as Tori Amos- or Kate Bush-like, but it doesn’t quite escape the confines of adult contemporary radio.
Had Onitsuka’s producers employed more R&B beats, Insomnia could have shared some shelf space with Soraya or Laura Pausini.
But those big rock beats in “Innosence”, that big cadence in the chorus of “Back Door”, and those twangy acoustic guitars in “edge” just whiff of Nashville.
But where those tracks hinted at country, “We Can Go” goes all the way, sporting slide guitars, gospel-like backing vocals and a majestic chorus as optimistic and middle class Americana as pre-lawsuit LeAnn Rimes.
The only thing that stops Insomnia from being a Nashville-by-Tokyo lovechild is Onitsuka’s blessfully limited vocal range. Onitsuka is no powerhouse singer. She doesn’t indulge in the acrobatic histrionics of western singers. But she can hold a note well enough to do her songwriting justice.
And despite — or perhaps because of — her propensity for writing ballad after ballad, Onitsuka has assembled a pleasing collection of songs. Insomnia, the album, is a perfect antidote for insomnia, the sleep disorder. No, these songs aren’t so boring they put you asleep, but they are soothing enough to facilitate quicker entrance to la-la land.
(Zakzak magazine erroneously compared Onitsuka with Utada Hikaru. The only thing those two share is a record label, namely Toshiba-EMI.)
But don’t let the country-leanings of Insomnia prevent you from picking up this disc. Onitsuka has recorded a pleasant album, uplifting as it is haunting, skillful arranged as it is unpolishedly performed. It topped the Oricon charts for good reason.
But even after flexing considerable rap muscle, Dragon Ash just couldn’t leave its rock past behind, interrupting the flow of the chart-topping Viva La Revolution with a set of incongruous punk numbers.
On the band’s fourth album, Lily of da Valley, Dragon Ash has finally reconciled the two halves of its distinct sound. In doing so, the Japanese quartet has created music that can’t easily be considered rap nor rock.
Rap-rock nowadays of course means Limp Bizkit, Papa Roach and a slew of Latin alternative bands. Ever since Rage Against the Machine pioneered the idea of floating a rough-hewned freestyler over heavy, metallic riffs, rap-rock has pretty much locked into a live rhythm section playing hip-hop beats with buzzing guitars.
On Lily of da Valley, the guitars and the hip-hop simples are integrated. Removing one from the other would make the songs on the album unravel.
“Glory,” for instance, sports Furuya Kenji dub-chanting over some buzzsaw guitars during the track’s chorus. On “21st Century Riot,” the guitars provide as much rhythmic backbone as the tub-thumping beats. Although the guitars are sampled on “Deep Impact,” their huge presence isn’t mere window dressing — they clearly characterize the song.
Perhaps the integration of both rock and rap is most obvious on “Yuri no Saku Basho De.” Furuya whisper-raps over a quiet beat, until the chorus bursts through with a head-banging, double-time punk chorus.
Because of this tightly-woven texture, assessing whether this combination works is difficult — Dragon Ash has clearly created something entirely new from very familiar sources.
The rap delivery on this album often borders on punk screaming, while all the screaming sometimes transform into discernable hooks. Furuya keeps up with the ever-changing shifts in the band’s sound, switching between freestyler to screamer to crooner at the drop of a proverbial hat.
Lily of da Valley requires more than a few spins to channel the lines Dragon Ash actively blur, if not downright assault. This album could very well be the future of both hip-hop and rock.
In the west, electronica artists and rock musicians have very little common ground. It’s just not cool to put a heavy power chord in the same mix as a techno beat.
But in Japan, a slew of bands are blurring the lines between guitar-driven rock and dance-floor beats. Dr.StrangeLove, Supercar, Boom Boom Satellites — these bands can rock out but they can also layer some mean atmospheric samples.
One of the most successful bands to do so is Quruli (spelled in katakana as Kururi.)
The band’s third album, Team Rock, takes listeners on a roller coaster of divergent styles, but at its core, it marries guitars with synthesizers with remarkable ease.
All of these bands recognize that gear alone won’t make a memorable listening experience — they need songs. And Quruli writes some pretty mean songs.
On “Wandervogel,” a four-on-the-floor beat drives the track’s sing-song melody. “The World Without Love” is a straight-ahead rock song without the electronica acrouments, but it’s followed by the decidedly disco “C’mon C’mon,” complete with robotic vocals and growly, bottom-heavy bass.
“The Curry Song” takes a moment to channel John Lennon’s “Imagine” with a furtive piano pulse, while “Eternity” delivers a live band playing a typically hypnotic dance tune.
And just to remind listeners that, yes, you are indeed listening to a rock band, Quruli tears into the two-minute “Train Rock Festival.” And let’s not forget the dischordant jazzy opening title track, and the equally quirky Southern rock closer — banjos and gospel bass included — of “River.”
As of this writing, Team Rock is comfortably nudged in the Top 20 of Japan’s Oricon charts and deservedly so. Not only does Quruli serve as justice-of-the-peace in a usually rocky sonic marriage, the band provides 11 extremely catchy songs to boot.
(Ed. note: The text for the reviews of Wrench’s Blue Blood Blue and bliss have been paired.)
Singles shouldn’t be benchmarks of a band’s creative worth, but they make for ideal spots to invite listeners into surrounding tracks.
A few well-placed singles certainly make a difference between a really good album and a posterior-busting one.
Wrench is an incredible band, both on stage and in the studio. And while the band’s major label recordings, Blue Blood Blue and bliss, are full of beefy riffs, body-moving rhythms and pogo-inducing energy, they both lack that all important pivot — the single.
Wrench’s sound is a pretty basic one — post-grunge metallic-punk hooks backing a monotone singer-rapper. Wrench’s power chords are nothing new but they certainly feel like it, and Shige manages to evoke Zach de la Rocha and, according to one friend of mine, Public Image, Ltd.’s John Lydon.
Of the two albums, Blue Blood Blue has the more memorable hooks. The namesake chorus of “Let It Flow” stands out in the listener’s mind. “I would like to touch a naked mind” doesn’t offer much lyrically, but that Indian-style intro is hard to forget.
bliss, however, is a lot more kinetic. After the obligatory introductory pomp of “Soundwave,” Wrench doesn’t let up the momentum. Here, Shige resorts to chanting like a Rasta over more of the band’s grunge-y riffs, and the combination works well.
Blue Blood Blue and bliss are both enjoyable albums, especially if driving, hard rock is your thing. But with guitar work as melodic as this, it’s hard to stomach Shige’s chanting for the duration of an entire disc, let alone two.
Wrench’s colleagues in RIZE and Missile Girl Scoot recognize the importance of a memorable chorus, and while Shige offers some nice melismatic moments, he doesn’t give Wrench enough push to take the band from excellent to brilliant.
And its that lack of a vocal melody that, in essence, leaves Wrench’s albums lacking any singles.
Even without singing or singles, Wrench still stands on some very solid musical foundation. Bassist Matsuda Tomohiro and drummer Nagoya Fujimaru never guitarist Sakamoto Azuma astray, and the results are achivements themselves.
When bands as diverse as Throwing Muses, R.E.M., the Pixies and the Replacements were all stashed in the same corner of the record store because they weren’t Skid Row, Milli Vanili, Whitney Houston or Guns N’ Roses? When labels didn’t think achieving post-punk credibility meant signing every band or artist that sounded like Pearl Jam, Sarah McLachlan or Matchbox Twenty?
Listening to Japanese band Fleming Pie brings back that feeling, that particular giddiness when no one in the mainstream music business knew what to make of the Camper Van Beethovens, Dead Milkmens and Melvins of the world.
At the same time, Fleming Pie doesn’t quite resemble any of the bands that experienced their creative peak in the last half of the second to final decade of the previous millenium.
Fleming Pie’s eponymous debut album starts off with “Sunday Morning,” a track worthy of XTC during its Skylarking/Oranges and Lemons era. From there, it moves to more conventional alternative pop on the level of Green/Out of Time-era R.E.M. with “1,000,000 Men” and “The Man in the Moon” (not to be confused with the Automatic for the People-era song of the afformentioned comparrison group.)
Along the way, Fleming Pie’s incredibly polished songcraft yields anthemic ballads (“Need”), bluesy ruminations (“Primary”), a number of funky rockers (“Yume”, “Ai to Uso”), a John Lennon-esque piano song (“Fossil”) and even a grungy, Love and Rockets closer (“No More Fantasy”).
The album’s pinnacle is “So Ra So (Nashville Mix)”, and the band really does try to play up the “Nashville” part of this mix. Guitars slide and twang on a song that was originally released as a straight-forward alternative pop single.
Singer Nakashima Tomoko’s voice could be construed as helium-inflected to anyone who hasn’t spent a lot of time with Shiina Ringo albums. In reality, she has a vaguely soulful voice acustomed to songwriter Segawa Eishi’s heavily American music.
Fleming Pie is an accomplished band with an album’s worth of very good songs. So why haven’t they dominated the Oricon charts?
It’s perhaps because Fleming Pie’s music is incredibly competent but not particularly flashy or extreme. Plus, the band looks like your next door neighbor. “Visual” just isn’t in this quartet’s vocabulary.
Which is a shame. Fleming Pie deserve a chance in its homeland. They certainly deserve this much coverage.
Don’t let the opening track of Rock Bottom fool you.
If you’re expecting those blasts of distortion the Kiss Offs deliver as a matter of course, you won’t find them all that much on “Let Me Find the Good in You.”
And unfortunately, it leaves the impression that the Kiss Offs have gotten bored with what they do. Far from it.
Rock Bottom continues the dischordant but melodic pop-punk the Kiss Offs wonderfully birthed on 1999’s Goodbye Private Life. “Let Me Find the Good in You” somehow doesn’t channel the energy of subsequent tracks, even though it probably could have.
But after that initial hump, the nine-track album hits the stride of its thoroughly enjoyable predecessor, and it feels good. Damn good.
“Broken Fingers for Talented Singers” is an sweet ode to rock music that’s both obtuse and hook-y. “We Can Work It Out” gets a thorough high-speed workout, while “Mmm Mmm Mmm” sounds as good as its title implies.
Those 1 1/2-minute ditties on Goodbye Private Life have matured into three-minute confections on Rock Bottom. The album even concludes with “Pleather Pantz,” a seven-minute epic divided into four parts (not like its apparent in the song itself).
Katey Jones and Philip Niemeyer provide their trademark vocal interplay, but with the songs’ lyrics moving away from matters of the groin, the pair aren’t given as much opportunity to play with each other, so to speak.
Regardless, the Kiss Offs’ growly, buzzing guitars still growl and buzz, and Rock Bottom is a nice conclusion to the band’s literally fiery career.
The band’s individual influences, ranging from Led Zeppelin to Natalie Imbruglia, is reflected in a sound that rocks as hard as it swings. On DAI’s debut album, Break of Dawn, the Japanese trio crafted pop music that’s sophisticated while catchy, challenging but simple.
The band’s follow-up album, New World, takes the extremes of Do As Infinity’s unique jazz-pop-rock sound even further. On the whole, the results are terrific, but specific moments almost undermine that work.
Songs such as “Eien,” “Desire,” “Rumble Fish” and the title track exemplify Do As Infinity’s core muse — hook-filled pop with beefy guitars and smart harmonic rhythms.
While the band’s jazzier influences certainly make their songs more complex than the usual J-pop fare, at times the mood is just forced. “Holiday” is a decent enough swing number, but alongside the kinetic fireworks of “135,” the song sticks out quite sorely.
“We Are” is thoroughly bouncy tune reminiscent of Swing Out Sister’s post-debut work, but it pales in comparrison to DAI’s rockier moments.
And that’s the area where Do As Infinity have stronger moments. With a double guitar arsenal of Owatari Ryo and Nagao Dai, tracks such as the greasy “Snail” and the headbanging “Summer Days” give the two axeslingers plenty of room to show off.
Still, singer Van Tomiko has a powerful and appealing alto that suits all aspects of Do As Infinity’s aesthetic. The band makes good use of that talent, regardless of whether they’re leaning to one side of their musical equation or the other.
Thankfully, all the more awkward moments are limited to just a few tracks. The rest of the album is gloriously filler-free, each tune nicely balancing hard, driving rock with infectous hooks.
New World continues the excellent work Do As Infinity has already begun with its first album. The band’s unique sound can withstand any number of repeat listenings. They know their stuff.