Musicwhore.org Archive The original

I work at a record store where garage rock is king. My co-workers worship at its altar and play it day in and day out. I’ve really come to hate garage rock.

My record store is located in a city with a strong country and roots scene. Even though we sell lots of garage rock, our reputation is built on selling country and roots music. I hear it day in and day out. I don’t mind it so much.

What does any of this have to do with Yuki’s second solo album, Commune? Simply put — when you listen to this album, you’re listening to the soundtrack of my day at work.

Like her solo debut Prismic, Commune wanders all over the musical map, albeit not as widely traveled.

Whereas Prismic felt like a mixed tape fronted by one singer, Commune focuses on more a specific set of styles.

There’s garage rock Yuki, as exeplified early on the album with “Naki Soo Da” and “Good Times”.

The former captures the essence of Yuki’s collaboration with Seagull Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her’s Higurashi Aiha on “The End of Shite”. The latter contains a shocking conclusion that really forces listeners to take notice.

There’s fifth Beatle Yuki, as featured on “Strawberry” and “Funky Fruits”.

“Strawberry” has an ending familiar to anyone who’s listened to “A Day in the Life”, and those sitars on “Funky Fruits” scream George Harrison.

Oddly enough, there’s alt-country Yuki, as demonstrated on the three singles from the album, “Stand Up! Sister”, “Sentimental Journey” and “Hummingbird”.

The slide guitars on “Sentimental Journey” alone are enough to run Onitsuka Chihiro’s Nashville leanings out of town.

In those few tracks, Yuki has manage to chart the course of in-store play at my workplace — rock, country, country, rock.

Every so often, someone in the store will put something different on, much like how Yuki throws in dub (“Koibito Yo”) or a sparse instrumental (“Swells on the Earth”) or some folk or world music (“Sabaku ni Saita Hana”, written by Kicell to sound like a lost Japanese folk song).

After a full day at work, I will have listened to a lot of stuff. Yuki, somehow, has managed to summarize those eight hours into 51 minutes.

Yuki’s raspy voice may not appeal to everyone, but there’s no denying how well it fits into a myriad of contexts. “Koibito Yo” stands out not only for being the only dub track on the album, but also for how nicely Yuki handles it.

Once again, Yuki has managed to thread a wide range of styles into a confederacy of music. Much a like commune, no?

First, a disclosure: I never listened to Judy and Mary.

Given the group’s popularity and judging from the various clips on Sony’s web site, JAM didn’t seem to target my particular tastes.

And yet, there’s ample evidence singer Yuki was capable of far more than what Judy and Mary afforded her.

Yuki has worked with Chara on numerous occassions, mostly recently as dual drummers on the all-girl grunge band Mean Machine. She also teamed up with Kate Pierson of the B-52’s on NiNa.

It’s not surprising, therefore, to hear Yuki take full advantage of her freedom as a solo artist.

Prismic, Yuki’s debut solo album, is a cornucopia of divergent rock ‘n’ roll styles. From the rough-hewned indie rock of “The End of Shite” (written by Seagull Screaming Kiss Her Kiss Her’s Higurashi Aiha) to the reverb-drenched drama of “Noroi”, the raspy-voiced singer sets out to show she’s not beholden to stylistic boundaries.

Of course, that’s a cocky gamble for any artist to make. A jack of all trades is a master of none, and a singer who doesn’t strike the right balance between cohesion and diversity ends up sounding amateur.

Yuki manages to avoid that pitfall by keeping the overall of mood of the album loose and fun.

The bouncy “Sayonara Dance” may come from a different mindset than the grunge-y “I U Mee Him”, but Yuki ties both performances together by keeping them rough.

“Wakusei ni Nore” depends largely on a hyper-fast electronic beats, but it’s tempered by breaks of live guitar. Even the whimsical “Rainbow St.” featuring the Zoobombs’ Don gets a bit of gravity from a buzzing, distortion-filled chorus.

When Yuki ventures into more conventional pop territory, she still manages to sound unproduced. Her grainy voice infuses “Ai ni Ikite” with a rough passion, and she sounds simultaneously vulnerable and unflappable on “Furete Nemure”.

From track to track, Prismic switches from one sonic universe to another, but the glue holding it all together is Yuki’s singular voice. She keeps things less than polished, and it results in some really good rock ‘n’ roll.