Issue #56: After Hours
Exploring the new (((sssurrounddd))) album, AKB48's "Heavy Rotation" and J-pop as a genre through Harmoe's new album
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When it comes to the deathless debate about if J-pop is a genre—in the sense of the term organizing a certain sound and style—I tend to side with the “no” camp because J-pop is too broad a scene to neatly describe its unifying elements. But then I come across an album like harmoe’s It’s a Small World, where the first impression that comes to me upon listening is, “this sounds like… J-pop.” Or at least, a certain strain of it popularly associated to the term by the Western imagination: the whimsical, all-over-the-place synth-pop often sung by cutesy voices. If that defines J-pop, then It’s a Small World provides a crash course of the genre as developed throughout the years.
A name heavily looming over It’s a Small World as a musical precedent is Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, the artist largely responsible for introducing the aesthetic outside of Japan at the top of the 2010s. “Happy Candy March” especially echoes Kyary almost on the nose with its parade of twinkling bells and carbonated synths, and similar carnival-esque productions appear elsewhere on “Issunsaki Wa Hikari” or “Fantasy Escape.” The more left-field choices in sounds from the album, like the oriental “Arabian Utopian” or “Harmony to the West,” meanwhile call to mind Wednesday Campanella’s Kenmochi Hidefumi and his globe-trotting tastes—a fitting inspiration behind an album with the main concept of “fairy tales across the globe.”
The credits of It’s a Small World explains a lot of why the album sounds the way it does as it’s filled with names who’ve supplied the sugary, kawaii electronic-pop sound since the early ‘10s. A good half of the album, including the early singles “Kimagure Tick Tack” and “My Pace Mermaid,” is arranged by Tomggg, who brings a more kitchen-sink approach to a maximalist pop style. If “Issunaki Wa Hikari” or “Fantasy Escape” reminded you of the sparkly, high-speed EDM of CY8ER, maybe it’s because the music is done by Yuigot and KOTONOHOUSE, respectively, who’ve produced tracks of the former idol group.
If It’s a Small World evokes the feeling of J-pop as much as its sound, then it might be a result of the influence derived from the other big J-pop export: idol music. Haruki Iwata and Moeka Koizumi of Harmoe aren’t exactly idols but actually voice actresses pursuing a singing career on top of their other gigs. Yet their songs follow more than a few cues from idol music as a style. The conceit of “Happy Candy March,” which centers on the duo making sweets to show affection, makes the best sense within the narrative tradition of idol songs that tends to encourage saccharine, if banal concepts. The cheesy gesture to steal the audience’s heart in “Arabian Utopian”—”I won’t let that smile go to anyone else,” they declare in the character of literal thieves—similarly fits in line with the double duty of lyrics in idol songs to work as a form fan service when performed live.
In reality, It’s a Small World represents a niche in the big picture of J-pop. Even in its own relegated corner of anison, a market filled with records by voice actors as well as music commissioned for various anime franchises, Harmoe operates in a style slightly outside of the traditional center. But that same, distinctive sound and feel of the duo’s music is so vividly specific to the sounds and tropes inherent to J-pop and its exports of the past decade that it doesn’t feel sensical to describe the music as anything else. If J-pop as a term can explain a sound and feeling, then can’t it be a framework to organize music as a genre?
I now take my title for this issue as a cruel, ironic joke at my expense as I write this note, the last thing I got to do before I hit Publish, at now 12 a.m. on Tuesday at the time of this writing so it’ll be in your inbox as scheduled. I dedicated a few days to work on outside writing—here’s (again) my review of 4s4ki’s new album for Pitchfork!—so hence the rush to the deadline. But it’s all good! It’s all done now! And now you can enjoy a read on a curious house album, one of my favorite songs of all time, and three new songs that caught my ear.
Happy listening!
Album of the Week
After Hours by (((sssurrounddd))) [KAKUBARHYTHM]
Recommended track: “Drive Me Crazy” | Listen to it on Spotify/Bandcamp
The brash, glistening electro-funk of (((sssurrounddd))) has become a hot commodity in pop since the trio’s last record, 2015’s See You Blue. The sound conjures a different kind of scenery since their last outing as well, shifting from the eternal summers of Los Angeles to the wistful opulence of Bubble-era Tokyo. It all lays in the group’s favor as acts outside of Japan have been trying to get in on the style they’ve been cultivating since 2012. But where others zig, Jun Kamoda, XTAL and Kenya Koarata decides to zag in After Hours, their latest album from the collaborative project in seven years.
The trio changes gears in After Hours from sticky, hook-laced pop songs to stretched-out deep house—a natural trajectory considering the solo activities of the members since they’ve last reconvened. While XTAL and Koarata cut marathon-paced house as the duo Traks Boys, Kamoda dished out a series of dance-music buffet in his solo LPs. The three shape After Hours to resemble the music of their outside gigs. The sharp, angular pop frame dissolves into a languid, Balearic disco, and verses and choruses get reduced into brisk, circling refrains. Melted into an impressionistic form of its former self, (((Sssurrounddd))) reveals a fresh take on a familiar sound.
Though the structures of the group’s songs are abstracted in comparison to their past output, the beats in After Hours teem with life and color. Glowing neon synths of “Drive Me Crazy” oscillate in tune to the soft four-on-the-floor thump, and the production’s induced trance befits the blank, transfixed stare of Kamoda, who sings the titular refrain as if in hypnosis. Kamoda inquires “how did you know I was in love with you” in “How,” but it’s hard for him to play off his blown cover as anything regretful behind the zippy laser funk. “Tell Me” indulges deep in the programmed terrains of house with its filtered sweeps, echo-heavy claps and chopped-and-screwed vocal stutters culminating into a swirling psychedelia.
For all its thrills and potentials, After Hours runs curiously short. Most tracks push little over two minutes with some like “A Wish” abruptly cutting off as it begins to gesture towards longer workouts. The eager tracks get some extra leg room in the companion EP, After Life, which collects extended versions remixed by the members of (((sssurrounddd))) themselves. But while the trio supplements the main album with an opportunity to bask more in its grooves, the remixed songs in After Life ultimately feel like alternate takes than the primary vision. The savory loops never overstay their welcome when stretched out in length yet the resulting spaciousness tease the mind of a more completed form of the track that’s populated with more hooks and choruses.
The brevity of After Hours is the point, and its elliptical form gives the songs their unique character. The tracks vanish once they’re about to fully solidify, and Kamoda’s fantasy-based lyrics further draw out the ephemeral, hypnagogic nature of the tracks. They grow in mystique as the trio offer little context and a short amount of time to dwell on their intentions: “I wish you could not come here,” Kamoda sighs in “A Wish” before the music moves along without sparing a moment to provide other details. Vaporous as it appears, the group’s sticky funk is too potent to ignore, and the lingering memory of it keeps After Hours a tantalizing piece of work.
Singles Club
“People” by Dayzero [Trekkie Trax]
In his newest drop, Subworld Communication, Dayzero continues to dabble in the kind of fractured techno that fit the producer right in on the Livity Sounds label earlier this year. The UK bass-attuned “People” from the release on the other hand provides an intriguing alternative to the IDM wonkiness, and for me, personally, it evokes a wince of cozy nostalgia to the fond days of post-dubstep. The icy, percussive minimalism, the ominous sci-fi synths, the anonymous diva-vocal loop that intrigues from its out-of-context nature—so much of “People” takes me back to the days when the likes of Night Slugs and Hessle Audio opened me up to a new world of techno.
Subworld Communication is out now. Listen to it on Bandcamp/Spotify.
See also: “Over the Valley” by Jiho; “Penetration” by satoshi iwashita
“Who Are You?” by Liza ft. Yo-Sea [self-released]
The spirit of Ghost Town DJs’ “My Boo” lives on in “Who Are You?” with the ghastly intro chords of the former classic re-arranged into a bashful piano riff. Instead of slinky Atlanta bass, though, the production of “Who Are You?” envisions a late-night flip of DJ Mustard-esque R&Bass. While the crisp, ad-lib-laced drums snap into a tight club beat, the wistful pianos evoke an after-hours melancholy, an atmosphere prone to inspire the kind of longing sung by singer Liza: “You disappeared, let me disappear with you / somewhere, into a world without anyone or anything,” she sighs in the chorus before she takes a drag from her cigarette. Her presence might be at the club, but her mind seems to be drifting elsewhere as she fails to let go of the one who got away.
Who Am I? (Deluxe) is out now. Listen to it on Spotify.
See also: “World’s End” by STUTS ft. Julia Wu & 5lack; “Nana” by Yo-Sea ft. Daichi Yamamoto
“Machi No Akari” by tip top nap [self-released]
The balmy, jangling guitar riff of “Machi No Akari” slots tip top nap right in with the other summer-minded dream-pop that fills the newsletter’s very own Dreams of the Year 2010 playlist. But while the sparkling music glows with the spirit of wide-eyed romance, the band wield their indie rock to capture a rather wistful scene: “Just us two until dawn / I want to spend it staring into each other,” vocalist Natsumi Yamamoto sighs as she looks on to the one she wants who seems so sit physically close yet emotionally out of reach. Like their longing face, it’s the bittersweet melancholy of in “Machi No Akari” that provides its sweet preciousness.
Listen to it on Bandcamp/Spotify.
See also: “Shadow Boxer” by Homecomings; “sea bird” by xiexie
This Week in 2010…
”Heavy Rotation” by AKB48 [King, 2010]
No. 1 during the week of Aug. 30, 2010 | Listen to it on Spotify/YouTube
Idols you can meet: this concept of AKB48 drives the group’s business model but also its internal culture. The group initially aspired to narrow the distance between idol and fan, beginning by localizing their activities at their own theater in Akihabara where fans can always come watch them perform. The fans gained closer access to their favorite idol but also a sense of direct involvement in her success by purchasing her latest record, which included a chance for them to vote and choose the center girl for the single. The idol-fan dynamic within AKB culture presumed a deeply symbiotic relationship with one dependent on the other.
No AKB48 single drew upon this relationship more powerfully than “Heavy Rotation.” For the chorus, the group’s chief producer and lyricist Yasushi Akimoto provides the group the most obvious set of lyrics to express it: “I want you / I need you / I love you.” What it lacks in depth, the hook makes up in directness as it gets to the meat of the matter. As if the message couldn’t sound any clearer, the rock-star frontwoman-on-the-mic choreography of the song emphasizes the context at hand: this anthem is dedicated by the singers to the fans about the bond between them, delivered straight to the crowd as they look on.
“Heavy Rotation” always reminds me of Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me.” Part of it owes to the exuberant power-pop riff, which hits as straightforward in pleasure as the hooks. But it’s mainly from that chorus driven by a similar lyrical play: “I want you to want me / I need you to need me,” goes Cheap Trick’s. The conceit behind the two isn’t so different from each other with both based on the idea that the relationship at hand isn’t complete without the other. The live version at Budokan by Cheap Trick more explicitly underlines who’s supposed to fill in for “you” and “me,” especially as the band gestures at a crowd who scream back as call and response.
Like Cheap Trick’s rendition of their song at Budokan, “Heavy Rotation” fulfills its potential as a live-show performance. The countless hours spent obsessing over the music builds up to this grand moment where one can finally meet their favorite, and the anticipation can exist for the performers: the days dedicated to practice and promotion lead up to show time where they can see their supporters in real life. The live show is where the true subject of a track like “Heavy Rotation” finally meets its object of desire: “After meeting you / us growing closer and closer / max high tension,” goes the chorus. It’s the place to realize the relationship, completing the narrative arc of the idol-fan experience.
What better experience to serve as a metaphor for this anticipation than the obsession with a pop record? A sound that fills the mind with love and joy “like the pop of popcorn” once you come in proverbial contact. A song to request over and over, 24/7, because nothing comes close to the fulfillment it provides. The metaphor is far from subtle, much like the blast of power-pop and its shout-along hooks, as it is shamelessly meta to the point the lyrics almost become self-reflexive: the idols practically sings about what it feels like to fall in love with “Heavy Rotation” as much as the group itself.
The idol song as a format presumes the lyrics are dialogue from the idol herself as the songs often serve as a live tool sung to its fans. The nature of the call-and-response, though, suggests the love central to the idol-fan dynamic must be recepirocal as it has to be mutual. The words of the song rightfully represent the emotions of the audience as much as the performers with that in mind, but more importantly, the presence of the listener on the other side becomes what ultimately completes the conversation at hand in “Heavy Rotation.” A hit won’t become a hit without the fans requesting them. Here’s an anthem dedicated to the obsessives who keep the culture alive with their devotion fully vindicated.
You can listen to all the songs covered in the Oricon flashback column so far on this Spotify playlist here.
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