I tend to keep my emotions at arm's length when it comes to non-English-speaking artists. Because if it ain't in English or "intermediate level" Spanish, I have little hope of identifying a slow-tempo song as, say, a love ballad or a dirge. Nagisa Ni Te's sixth album, Dream Sounds, puts these lingual uncertainties to rest. Yes, the lyrics are in Japanese, but from the adorable pink bunny surfing on the album cover to the idyllic English song titles, this boy/girl psych-folk duo sparkle with undeniable innocence.
But don't confuse Nagisa Ni Te members Shinji Shibayama and Masako Takeda with the childish, giggling Japanese stereotypes depicted in Lost in Translation and Pokémon; these guys know their rock'n'roll history down to the grit. After all, their name (translated) is borrowed from the esteemed 1974 Neil Young album On the Beach, and on Dream Sounds the duo delve deep into classic North American rock, emerging with shimmering bits of Young, the Beach Boys, and Bob Dylan. The nostalgia is doubly powerful considering the album's four lengthy tracks are re-workings of previous Nagisa Ni Te songs, though here both classic rock and classic Nagisa Ni Te get a 21st century facelift.
More a retrospective than a "best of" album, Dream Sounds starts and ends with longer, more pensive Shibayama-dominated numbers, with Takeda's punchier pop gems sandwiched in between. In opener "True World", Shibayama (formerly of Idiot O'Clock and Hallelujahs) slowly and wistfully delivers the song's folksy melody as though paging through a photo album before passing the vocals off to an equally starry-eyed Takeda midway through.
Takeda's tracks are closer to straightforward rock; power pop nugget "Anxiety" holds up to most anything from Last Splash, while "Me, on the Beach" channels Neil Young's candid harmonica and acoustic interplay. Those songs form a sweet, gooey middle inside the album's thick, oftentimes strenuous outer layer. Twenty minute-plus closer "True Sun" doesn't get points docked because of its length and repetition; instead it's hampered by guitar chords and melodies that run past their sell-by dates. Because of these flaws-- and the song's reflective mood-- it turns the second half of an otherwise captivating album into something self-serving and distant. Luckily, the scintillating treasure within Dream Sounds shines through the dense outer shell, and-- as far as I know-- it's safe to put your guard down and indulge in its cherubic bliss.
