First of all, let's start off by saying that this record review is free of negative criticism, or any negativity for that matter. Second of all, I will tell you that I actually begin talking about this specific record in the fourth paragraph, because as usual, there is some expository material of possible entertainment and/or knowledge value to be gained first. Nothing to complain about now? Great, let's move on. Next, I'd like to give a shout-out to Japan. Ever notice how people say they'd like to "give a shout-out" to something, but they never really do it? I'm following through: "JAAPAAAAAANN!" Damn. Oh, Japan. Ohhhh, Japan! Sorry, I just haven't had enough. But you must understand. My love affair for Japan is just beginning to blossom.
My liaison began with Buffalo Daughter and the super-smooth quirk-funk of their exceptional second record, New Rock. Then I became more anxious to get myself acquainted with the Japanese-American music maker crowd. Cibo Matto's Viva La Woman took me a little while, but it became an eye-opening record in its own right; more recently, I fell in love with the high-pitched croon of Blonde Redhead's Kazu Makino. Then I became a fan of the chirping vocals and shimmering sound pastiches of Takako Minekawa.
And finally, the Boredoms came along in my life and made me wonder how I ever listened to rock without them. I will sacrifice a vital appendage if necessary to see this band perform live once in my life. 1998's Super Are and 2000's Vision Creation Newsun were and still are landmark records in fucked-up, psychedelic, gorgeous, dynamic trance-rock. I considered frontman eYe Yamatsuka a god among men for quite some time, at least while immersing myself in those albums. I always noticed the excellent musicianship of the rest of the group, but I don't think I gave it enough credit to the quality of the records, usually assuming that the mastery of craft was in Yamatsuka's hands.
Here's proof that at least part of the rest of the band had something to do with it. For those unfamiliar, OOIOO is a band featuring Yoshimi P-We, one-half of the drum section of the Boredoms. Along the way, bandmates and fellow Japanese women Kyoko, Maki and Yoshiko help her out on guitar, bass and drums, respectively. But Yoshimi is clearly the driving force, taking the production reins and performing most of the vocals and instruments. Their second and latest record, Feather Float, may not be a defining masterpiece, but I'll be damned if it doesn't make me a super happy guy. The Boredoms are unmitigated genius, which may include joy, but OOIOO are unmitigated joy, which needs not include genius.
See, according to the scientific and über-accurate Pitchfork ratings guide, I've already labeled Feather Float "amazing," informing you that it "will likely rank among [my] top three records of the year" before I've barely said a word about it. This is all accurate as far as I can tell, although who knows what the hell those year-end list things are like even in October, let alone here in May. So allow me to explain, won't you? I could go with a moment-by-moment, track-by-track analysis, but the feeling of this record doesn't come through that kind of language. Instead, I'm going to say what I love about it.
I love the energy. OOIOO's brand of rhythmic psych-rock on Feather Float exudes definite soulful excitement. Yoshiko's drums rock the way Yoshimi's do in the Boredoms; panicked, frantic, at times tribal, but always steadily keeping the beat. The rhythms and activity of the music are nearly out of breath, but never rushing to catch up. Every instrument, natural or electronic, is used to drive the music forward. It's a sort of loose intensity; there's power and vigor, but no pressure.
I love the contrast. When there is music, there is energy, but sometimes there isn't music. This allows for the energy to rest and build again. Throughout the record, these moments of silence give way to birds chirping, crashing cymbals, and soft building drones, which all patiently await the next explosion of activity. Feather Float could not have been arranged differently and remained as effective as it is now.
I love the pure love of sound that is so obviously demonstrated on this recording. Phasing effects and electronic tones are used liberally, but the feeling remains organic and authentic. Sometimes a sound is repeated over and over again as we revel in its glory; sometimes it's cut short to make way for an even more glorious one.
I love the vocals. Yoshimi sings most of the vocals in OOIOO, with help from fellow guitarist Kyoko, and they have nothing to do with lyrics. When words are used, whether in English or Japanese, the language bears little relevance. They just add incalculably to the end result. The aforementioned energy translates into the vibrant, layered voices. The harmonies don't just soar, they create rhythms. Sometimes sharp intakes of breath and brief yelps punctuate the beat for emphasis. Sometimes the singers become so enthusiastic that it doesn't matter if they're out of tune, and we're eventually singing out of tune with them. When they are in tune, it's angelic and at times breathtaking.
I love the name, and the title. OOIOO-- simple syllables which seemingly emanate a sense of awe, or release. Feather Float-- fully unpretentious, with a liberating, carefree connotation.
I love Feather Float. It's a record that causes me to gush over great lengths. Hopefully by now I've given enough of the idea of how it sounds without ruining the surprises and the pleasant new feeling of hearing it for the first time. It currently stands on its own, not just as something to tide over Boredoms fans, but as something to hold in high regard in your collection, something even perhaps to introduce an uninitiated friend into the world it represents. And it makes me want to make my affair with Japan a full-on marriage. But we'll still need to get to know each other a little more before we set the date, honey. And where the devil will we have our honeymoon?
