Iqu, a so-called "lo-fi electronica" act from Olympia, WA, started building steam in the late 90s. They played throughout the Pacific Northwest, opening for venerable bands such as The Flaming Lips, Built to Spill, and Mouse on Mars. Besides an acclaimed debut on K records, Chotto Matte a Moment!, they had a great live show going for them-- a stand-up acoustic bassist, a computer music student jamming on her analog synths, and (their secret weapon) a theremin player who could do more than make good-looking noise. The band was riding high on their cerebrum-to-booty connection, getting cross-armed audiences across the land to bob their heads, and many considered them poised for an aural coup of the underground electronic scene. But after a few remixes and EPs in the year 2000, they went silent.
Four years later, they've returned minus the bass and on a new label, with the album Sun Q. Official reasons for the long break include independent projects and reconceptualizing their sound, but Sun Q seems as though bandmates K.O. and Michiko Swiggs have simply been waiting in suspended animation. Make no mistake-- Iqu's sound is highly transformed, turning up the sequenced DIY disco and leaving behind most of the experimental sampling. But Sun Q heavily traverses the landscapes of late 90s Japanese-influenced electronic pop-- the Tokyo-overdrive of Cornelius' Fantasma or the sugary funk of Cibo Matto's Stereotype A. It sounds of the years just prior to the omnipresence of laptop performers and glitchy breaks, when drum tones still had a bass-end and electronics could be as much toys as instruments. The album's lightness is refreshing in a musical sphere that has, across the board, come to take itself far too seriously; when it gets overly cutesy, however, it becomes easily dismissible as derivative.
It feels odd to dub an album hearkening back just half-a-decade "dated," but Sun Q's combination of turntable scratches, vocoders, and bubbly vibe would have held more appeal a few years ago. The album is a mash of styles that can be generally categorized as "alien pop"-- mutated top 40, broken disco, and hyperactive glam instrumentals that flow along at a stream-of-consciousness pace. It's most successful and original on its theremin-centered pieces, such as the catchy, warm opener "Under the Cherry Blossom". K.O.'s masterful hand-waving reappears throughout-- notably on an excellent, hilariously long-winded instrumental cover of Minnie Riperton's "Lovin' You". The album's title track is a duet over some Pizzicato Five smoothness, and the rest of the vocal-driven songs are hooked upon deep, syncopated moog basslines that maintain a positive if sometimes cloying ass-shaking vibe.
Layers of embedded surprises make Sun Q worth a close listen; ultimately, however, its ceaseless pulse, quick stylistic changes, and production are aiming at a very certain sort of party in a box-- a balance of funky and cute. It's a well-constructed album, but it does feel made for a party that happened a few years ago. Still, this duo's got the skillz and the visionz, and in case you hadn't heard, everyone digs thereminz. Hopefully, it won't be another four years before they're heard from again.
