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Live Review: King Show At Big Cat Osaka Sunday June 27

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Let me tell you about the time I felt the worst in regards to music writing. I’m a junior in college and working for campus website. I run a music blog that I’m determined to update once a day. Sometime in late winter, it’s announced that Counting Crows will headline the annual Spring concert. Full of indie-rage and in need of content, I spend the better part of the next week writing all sorts of negative posts about the band responsible for “Accidentally In Love.” Most of the subsequent comments on these stories were of the “you are an idiot/you suck” variety, something I was used to by this point as I was an insufferable college student desperate to feel superior to…anyone I guess.

What made me feel terrible came a few weeks after the fact. A friend…my best friend for that matter…subtly scolded me for all those indie-centric ravings. He didn’t write it directly into the Gmail chat box, but he conveyed the message that I’d probably be a lot better music writer if I wasn’t a huge asshole all the time. I felt incredibly horrible…and STILL feel guilty about it…mostly because he couldn’t have been more right. Nowadays, I’m much more hesitant to write anything dripping with the same levels of disgust I showed Counting Crows, though I still sometimes do. No one’s perfect. I think it’s vital for arts criticism to exist…especially that of the assholish variety…but I still can’t shake the fact that regardless of how much I loathe a particular band, a large group of people love them and get real, fulfilling enjoyment out of them. Why throw rocks at something making so many happy?

I share all this personal gloop because all those old issues came right back out after I attended Japanese hair metal band King Show’s, er, show Sunday at Big Cat in Osaka. King Show (Kinnuiku Shojo Tai in Japanese pronunciation) were one of the more popular rock bands in Japan around the earlier 1990s, combining the worlds of American hair metal with the burgeoning Visual Kei scene. They broke up near the end of the decade, but reformed in 2006 and have been touring around Japan ever since. A friend convinced me to go, but as I stood in line for the doors to open Saturday night I started worrying I might hate this…the critic-baiting genre of “hair metal” coupled with the fact the Big Cat venue was located in a shopping mall and the inside looked exactly like the lobby of a Cinemark movie theater.

Oh, but before I could become too cynical, I started focusing on the fans. Spanning all ages between 18 and 50, I haven’t met a more enthusiastic crowd. I don’t know whether it’s a Japanese thing or just me being tainted by going to indie-centric shows most of my life…a little of both, I’m guessing…but these folks were exceedingly nice. One group…of professional wrestlers, confirming the stereotype shown in The Wrestler…talked to us and even gave my friend an armband as a gift. They radiated excitement all the way up to the moment the lights dimmed and King Show took the stage.

The band returned the hype in kind. Despite all of the build-up above, King Show are miles better than dreck like Counting Crows (whoops I did it again). Calling them “hair metal” seems a little unfair, because they rarely bit from the Ratt song catalogue. Despite cramming as many guitar solos into each song as possible and featuring a guitarist who looked like C.C. Deville in a dress (the Visual Kei one), King Show mostly just try to imitate Guns ‘N’ Roses circa Appetite For Destruction and, at their best Sunday night, did an above average imitation, all maniac drumming and hooky choruses. The group’s biggest strength, though, showed between songs. They were easily the most charismatic Japanese band I’ve seen thus far, spending upwards of twenty minutes just bantering. Lead singer Kenji Ōtsuki in particular seemed skilled behind the mic between songs, even more energetic than on the band’s proper songs. They drew lots of laughs and made it seem like they didn’t reunite to pay the bills but because they genuinely enjoyed performing.

Now, for the part of the review where I focus on the bad stuff that could have turned this into my college writing. All the extended stage talk proved to be vital to the overall show, because King Show’s chit-chat served as a necessary buffer between songs. Because when they played a lot of music in a row, things quickly went south. The group’s music follows the same fist-pumping blueprint from song to song, which is fine following ten minutes of gags but an absolute chore when similar song follows similar song. The few times King Show tried something different…an acoustic number or an attempt to make their own “Jump”…resulted in the show’s definitive lowlights. Most annoyingly, the band didn’t pace themselves well at all – they’d hit a huge song perfect for closing out the show, but then keep on going and going. It’s a testament to King Show’s skill they hit this point several times, but made like Brian Fuentes and never closed it out. When they finally did end, it felt anti-climatic.

Oh, but I come back again to the fans who acted like they downed three Red Bulls before the show started. They ate up every minute of King Show, cheering and doing choreographed dances (a very J-Pop thing to do) all night. I originally envisioned this review to be a glimpse into hair metal fandom in Japan until I actually went to the show and realized King Show fans are ordinary people who probably don’t refresh Pitchfork late in the Japanese afternoon to see new updates. Heck, I couldn’t even turn this into a Klosterman-esque essay on hair metal, because King Show barely constituted what I always imagined “hair metal” was despite a part of the show where the guitarist twirled his blonde locks around like helicopter blades.

At the end of the show, my friend asked me what I thought. I could have lied and made it seem like one of the best shows I’ve seen all year, or I could have been a dick and focus exclusively on the negatives (“why was the one dude in a dress?”). I instead went with the kinda boring truth of “it was pretty good, maybe a little too long though” and left it at that. As much as I wanted to turn King Show into something more, it wasn’t, and I think that’s a perfectly OK thing.

Review: Merpeoples’ Merpeoples

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Usually rookie bands stumble with trying to create a signature sound on a first album go-around, often imitating other acts instead of carving out something distinct. See: the majority of British indie since 2005. Tokyo’s Merpeoples, though, sound like the rarest of young bands on their self-titled debut mini-album – a group that has achieved a signature sound. The four-piece create art-school-tinged rock songs that spin around themselves, at-times cheesy keyboards sprinkled over the in-line guitars to add the proverbial sparkle to this science fair exhibit. It’s tempting to play the “band X sounds like band Y” game and compare Merpeoples to Foals, but this Japanese quartet refuses to fire off in sudden directions like that math-rock group tends to do. Everything stays locked in place…lead-off track “Picasso” barely breaks stride, flattening all in it’s way and basically forcing you to love it.

While Merpeoples got the signature sound down, they still need some work in actually utilizing it. The problem with having such a machine-efficient sound is that, unless said machine transforms or something, it can get tedious after a while. Merpeoples has way too many of these moments for an album clocking in at under half-an-hour. The biggest culprits are the huge five-minute-plus tracks jutting out of the middle…”みだらなストーリー” plods along, the novelty of its Middle Eastern keyboards wearing off as the song fails to move anywhere (the music almost erupts late, but they reel it back in before anything develops). “Ma Moon” fares a little better, but still squanders an interesting Dracula-on-the-keys vibe for a “meh” horror by the numbers. Even a great track like indie-breakout-waiting-to-happen “Sherman” goes about a minute to long. Yet the potential remains…along with “Picasso,” late cuts “callcallcall” and “スローモーション” jumps out as absolute highlights. Here Merpeoples explore a little more, but not too far from basecamp. They might standout because of the brisker pace, a massive improvement over the trudging nature hike of this albums middle. So, despite being far ahead on the “trajectory of an indie band” timeline, Merpeoples still ends up being just a promising debut, a completely enjoyable listen on its own but one demanding that whatever comes next bests it. It’s almost like the band are too excited about their style…a few edits here and there and this becomes an entirely different record. For now though, band to watch.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8snEIWAbDY&hl=en_US&fs=1&]

Review: The Brixton Academy Vivid

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I once again evoke the theme of this week, this “things we missed” deal, and immediately forgive you dear reader that I didn’t get around to writing about Vivid earlier in the year. The Brixton Academy’s first full-length the type of album that simultaneously deserves a long, thought out bit of praise because it’s that damn good, but can also be easily summed up because you should be familiar with this sound by now. It’s the same 80s inspired electro-pop revivalists like Cut Copy, Awesome New Republic and Hot Chip have made en vogue recently. So yes…here’s another great New Order inspired album for you. A few quick hits…opener “Ready For The Romance” is the best Junior Boys track Junior Boys never made, “Lovely Lies, Little Signs” transitions from a jaunty-and-tinny electro song into a surprisingly emotional beast, and “In My Arms'” dizzying climax speaks for itself. In March I would have spilled god-only-knows how many words on Vivid, today I’ll simply yell as best I can through the typed word “GET THIS ALBUM.”

What I will waste words on, though, is the pure majesty of “So Shy.” A pleasant enough track when I first heard it in February, more time spent with it reveals it’s actually a synth-pop masterpiece. The instrumentation serves its purpose…the electronics, especially the nostalgia-rific twinkling, drape the song in an almost otherworldly sheen. It’s a very pretty sounding track, one which would fit very nicely on a “Tribute To John Hughes” instrumental CD. But goodness gracious those vocals take this to a whole different level of greatness. The Brixton Academy’s lead singer (can’t find a name, way to be mysterious) has the type of awkward voice usually labeled “unorthodox,” and it’s to his credit he’s able to carry it in all sorts of directions on Vivid. But on “So Shy,” he does nothing fancy, just sounding like his old, goofy self. Which, on a song about being so introverted in a club you won’t talk to a girl, works perfectly. The titular shyness drips all over this song, as the lyrics go “I just want to know you’re name/I just want to know who you are/you are the best dancer in this club” before hitting the especially lonely chorus “I’m so shy/so I can only gaze at you/you are inside my eyes.” Real talk – if you’ve ever been in a similar situation (which, I hate to admit, I’ve been in a lot this year, which might explain why this song hits so hard), that chorus delivered the gangly way it is nails the weird mix of excitement and disappointment one feels in such situations when they don’t feel like The Situation. “So Shy” nearly becomes a wake-up call as our narrator realizes he has to get some courage, but we never find out if he ever does anything. A vague series of wordless “wooooooos” close out the track. If ever the socially anxious could have a club jam, it would be “So Shy.”

Review: Nu Clear Classmate’s Lick The Star

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Not to pile on M.I.A. anymore than every website in the universe already has, but Nu Clear Classmate have managed to best her when it comes to taking cues from Suicide. The truffle-fry-havin’ pop star’s song “Born Free” – which you might have missed since the only thing anyone talked about was that dumb video – featured a sample of Suicide’s “Ghost Rider” smack dab in the center. Though she earned props from anyone who felt connected to the narrator of LCD Soundsystem’s “Losing My Edge,” she also betrayed the one element of her music that made the masses put up with her at-times obnoxious political side…the song’s not catchy. Her vocals don’t mesh at all with (purposely) grating music, and it lacks an absolutely bonkers chorus to make up for it. Great cred grabber, but nothing else.

Instead of sampling Suicide, Tokyo duo Nu Clear Classmate combine that two-piece’s unnerving sound with more straightforward structure. They call it “suicide pop” and they really couldn’t have conjured up a better description for the music on Lick The Star, beyond just acknowledging what James Murphy-approved bands they listen to. “Causeless Pain” works as the suicide pop anthem of choice – a buzzy guitar wave blankets the song from the start, sounds as ominous as boss battle music from a Nintendo game. It almost seems comically grim until the low-key singing comes in and tries its hardest to lift itself up, to add any color to a song doused in ink. “Where did we make a mistake?/what went wrong?/But I knew we’d not last forever/So why do I cry?” lead singer chick (that’s all the album notes give ya) musters while guitarist Zak continues piling on with that noise. Like the entirety of the album, “Causeless Pain” feels vaguely uncomfortable…but also so catchy you don’t want to get away from the onslaught.

Not to label Lick The Star as you’re go-to soundtrack while watching the Gulf Coast oil spill cam. Only the pulsing “The Nearest Faraway” approaches “Causeless Pain’s” outright desperation thanks to the creepily worn out singing. The rest of this short album (18 minutes) finds Nu Clear Classmate using the heavy guitar spread for happiness not depression. The band make the guitar sound a bit perkier on opener “Blank World,” coupling it with a marching beat and chick’s giddy lyrics about the realization that death is certain (“There isn’t needed much money or pride/They’re nothing/it’s just junk” before later declaring that she just “wanna be with you till the last”). It’s the album’s last two tracks, though, that shine brightest. “I Know I Know” opens with synths sounding familiar to the intro to MGMT’s “Time To Pretend,” but instead of daydreaming Nu Clear Classmate focus on realistic problems. “I’m going to be crazy/Loneliness drive me crazy” chick opens up with before slowly seeking out hope during the rest of the song, reaching dizzying heights on the chorus, Lick The Star’s pop highlight. Album closer “I Leave The Parade Wearing A Dress” relies just as much on dreamy electronics as guitars, chick singing about wanting to dance all night and managing to drop the line “hugs not drugs” in without torpedoing the whole song. It’s the last lines of the album that sums it up though, “suicide pop is solution/simple songs.” And that’s, despite the menacing guitar ripping through it, what Nu Clear Classmate make…catchy, simple songs. M.I.A. take note.

Review: Predawn’s A Bird In The Hand

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Listening to Predawn’s A Bird In The Hand feels similar to reading someone’s diary, except this particular diary doesn’t concern itself with recounting the day or offering a safe zone to discuss crushes. No, it instead focuses on the tiniest details found in profound moments – the movement of a forefinger during a farewell, the way a lover looks into your eyes at 4 A.M., the croaking of a frog heard by an insomniac. If anything, Predawn jots down small sketches of the mundane that hide a lot more emotion than they initially seem. A Bird In The Hand fits a lot of these observations into its short run time, and is an especially strong recording because of it.

It helps that Predawn (aka Tokyo artist Miwako Shimizu) pushes the lyrics to the forefront by keeping the music relatively simple. Most of the songs on Bird feature nothing more than her clear-as-water voice (which, let’s get this out of the way, sounds like the lead singer of Six Pence None The Richer) and acoustic guitar, only allowing tiny extravagances like muffled sleigh bells as percussion. It’s telling that the weakest song here, “Custard Pie,” piles on piano, slight drums and trumpet. They drown out Predawn’s best quality, her ability to craft super sparse snapshots of tiny details only the keenest authors usually catch.

The one-two punch of “What Does It Mean?” and “Suddenly” finds Predawn using her signature sparse sound to tackle both ends of the emotional spectrum. In the prior, she describes the moment a relationship comes to an end…or, more accurately, the seconds in which it ends. Shimizu focuses not on the emotional but rather physical movements (of eyes, of fingers, of lips) happening during this breakup, a move separating this song from countless other coffeehouse-veering tracks. “Suddenly,” meanwhile, sees love blooming all at once, set over the album’s most country-tinged playing and Predawn giving her best vocal performance on Bird, a restrained singing oozing happiness.

None of Bird’s other tracks match the spare beauty of those two, but do come close. “Lullaby From Street Lights” features the fewest instruments and is also the one moment Predawn gets a bit too close to open mic night. She saves it though thanks to all the space surrounding her words, which lends an air of loneliness to the proceedings. “Apple Tree” is a late highlight, a slowly unfolding haze of guitars backing up Shimizu’s cheery singing. Here, she’s at her most mundane but sorta profound…she sings about simply talking with someone underneath an apple tree about “tidy pop rock tunes and techno love songs.”

Bird wisely cashes out after 20 minutes, preventing Predawn’s latest from burning out. Despite how fast this album breezes by, it demands repeat listens thanks to its prettiness and lyrics. Some albums demand your attention and seek to be something monumental – Predawn just wants to be part of your ho-hum day.

BUY IT HERE

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-etQjPbzFY&hl=en_US&fs=1&]