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Review: Three-Week-Old Lovesick Puppy’s Tickle Tickle

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“If you’re young and starry-eyed, here’s your chance to get in ahead of the game: Grab a cheap guitar or a cheap keyboard, a four-track or a boombox, and make what you can. Someone, somewhere, will love you for it.” Nitsuh Abebe, Twee As Fuck, on Pitchfork in 2005

The above sentence captures the charm of indie-pop in just 40 words, cutting through the “jangle” and stick-figure cats so many get hung up on when discussing the style to reach its heart. “Twee” music embraces anybody, regardless of musical talent or pristine recording capabilities. Have you listened to a Pastels’ record from the 80’s? Julliard they aren’t. That amateur streak remains integral to so much indie-pop, and has become one of the cornerstones of the community.

So what happens when an artist previously restricted by DIY recording embraces clean sound and musical professionalism? Three-Weeks-Old Lovesick Puppy…the name alone should tip you off to whether you’ll like this type of sound or not…originally posted seemingly homemade tracks to her MySpace, fuzzy little creations highlighted by the driving keyboard-assisted “Stop.” Lead singer Mikiwo and company returned in 2011 with their first mini-album, the adorably titled Tickle Tickle, yet Three-Weeks-Old Lovesick Puppy come off as a very different creature on these 25 minutes. Whereas once the group conjured up images of cardigan-clad kids strumming away outside of a train station for one-yen coins, Tickle Tickle comes off as more professional all around, twee signifiers replaced with jazzy touches. Lovesick Puppy now play sophisticated nightclubs in my imagination. They probably wear blazers.

This shift ends up showcased clearest on Tickle Tickle’s version of “Stop.” Lovesick Puppy’s original recording opened with grin-inducing keyboards before barreling into a sunny chug. The new take leaps right to Mikiwo’s vocals, but the pace has been slowed down a bit to make room for lounge piano and bass. Everything seems a little less tight than on the MySpace incarnation, the drumming occasionally going off on its own and the only use of electronics being some high-pitched whooooshing happening in the back. “Stop” now sounds simultaneously looser but more polished than what Lovesick Puppy initially posted online more than a year ago, above all else more serious. Choosing a superior version seems a thankless task…I’d lean towards the original due to its bright energy, but the final cut still sounds gorgeous, in a refined sort of way.

The remainder of Tickle holds onto this new-found seriousness while never letting the twee spirit leave. Album-highlight “Parachute Love” mimics the ramshackle enthusiasm of the band’s early version of “Stop,” even going as far as to open with a similar series of electronics. From there it’s pure rush, fast-paced drumming spiraling away as the singing gets slightly muffled by the surrounding dash. Though still polished, “Parachute Love’s” energy recalls those early Lovesick Puppy recordings in the best way. The two tracks tucked away at the end of Tickle similarly work as a middle-ground between indie-pop and jazzier aspirations, like seeing a college graduate realize they can still have fun despite new responsibility. The only misstep on this album is drawn-out “Tick-Tack-Toe,” which features one plodding guitar solo too many.

It’s tough to expect anything out of a twee-tastic group, especially one named Three-Week-Old Lovesick Puppy. Yet Tickle Tickle meets whatever hopes I’d pinned to them ever since I first fired up “Stop,” though it does so in unexpected, professional ways. I personally hope Lovesick Puppy can continue finding ways to sound so studio-clean while still exploring indie-pop ideas. For now, we have Tickle Tickle a reassuring debut.

Listen here.

Review: Lullatone’s Elevator Music

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The brand of innocence Japan broadcasts to the rest of the world…or, at times, what Western media considers “wacky” enough to buff out the news…tends to be inspired by a three-year-old child’s nursery room. The Japanese word “kawaii,” often delivered in a rising intonation often reserved for seeing a red panda at the zoo, sums it up well though I think spending several minutes in a Sanrio store works just as well. Nearly everything in this country comes complete with a wide-eyed cartoon mascot, from local police branches to and tourist guides. Men read childish comics on trains and a Disney-centric wedding isn’t a farfetched idea if my local mall’s shelves can be trusted. This hyper-cutesy aesthetic even gets warped into the Lolita-evoking act of AKB48, where a gaggle of (very) young women wear schoolgirl outfits and perform simplistic pop songs while gyrating all about. Some have described Japan as a “country of children” yet that’s a little harsh… but aspects of modern culture here can often feel extremely childish.

Nagoya’s Lullatone offer an alternative take on innocence, one where Hello Kitty doesn’t become a cultural diplomat. The duo of Shawn and Yoshimi Seymour avoid kiddie-sounding music and instead aim at recreating the feeling of being a child, how the world looked when you were little. Most of their songs concern themselves with only the most everyday of occurrences…titles include “Leaves Falling” and “Orange Juice”…and filter them through a youthful lens, which transforms the mundane into the magical. Innocence isn’t so much owning a brightly colored plastic toy record player as much as seeing said item as something deeply wonderful and not “Made In China” future garbage. Apartment buildings seem as big and awe-inducing as mountains, bathtubs become concert halls and snores sound comforting. Childhood isn’t about Pokemon lunchboxes or folders covered in puppies, rather how everything about the world seems so fascinating and new. I could probably just write “imagination” and get the same point across.

Lullatone’s latest mini-album Elevator Music fits comfortably within this wonder-filled worldview. It’s a sorta compliment EP to the duo’s Song That Spin In Circles album released back in 2009. That set of songs focused on objects in movement (“An Old Record On Its Player,” “The Hands Of A Clock,” “The Whole World While You Are Asleep”) as a means to fall asleep, the whole affair billed as a set of “loopable lullabies” meant to get babies to take a nap. As the title hints at, Elevator Music instead takes a look at all the dull and boring stuff one has to deal with while wide awake…maybe it’s a cliche, but elevator music really is one of the most soulless sounds in the world…and tries to make these experiences sound more charming. Song titles include “Walking On The Sidewalk” and “A Lot Of People Cutting Grass On Sunday.” To some degree, it’s Lullatone’s most Lullatone-ish recording yet.

It’s also perhaps the goofiest set of songs they’ve released to date. Not really a surprise given the theme – they set out to make dreamier elevator music, not redefine what “elevator music” should be. Thus, Elevator Music sounds just like that, full of silly elements also found in supermarket jingles and “please hold” phone calls. Elevator Music features a Super Mario Brothers 3-ish version of “Heart And Soul” so corny it ends up being insanely endearing over time. Lullatone, though, take this all seriously so nothing feels like a rush job. Plus these 19 minutes sound distinctly like Lullatone, so charmingly cute but never in a ow-my-teeth-hurt-now way.

Expect few major revelations from the duo here, though you can count on a few little nudges. Like how opener “Sidewalk” ends up being the most twee thing the two have ever recorded, all twinkly noises and horn-powered ooooomphs. Or how “Ah, It Was In The Garage After All” finds Lullatone flirting with classic Motown via big hip-shaking percussion…paired up with a child’s xylophone. The track most seemingly out of place here would be closer “Matteru (Waiting, We’re Waiting),” a strummed number featuring actual lyrics, the only time on Elevator Music. It also prominently includes the real-world sound recordings that were ever-present on Songs That Spin In Circles – on “Matteru” the click-clock of a clock can be heard while Yoshimi imitates that very noise. While thematically it fits in fine…staring at a clock, not a party starter…sonically it seems both out of place amongst Elevator Music’s peppy instrumentals and a welcome breath of something different.

The rest of Elevator Music really does sound sort of like elevator music, though Lullatone have added so much joy to these little compositions you can practically see the grins pinned to their faces. “Whistling In An Office” features actual whistling placed over a skippy soundtrack waiting to score some old Merrie Melodies. “Umbrella” knabs chiming sounds straight out of the produce aisle, but adds a surprising emotional depth via some slightly resigned guitar, the whole thing coming across as a little melancholy despite having pixie dust sprinkled over it. “Cutting Grass” goes for more relaxed territory while “Jazzavator” – well, that one’s easy to figure out.

Musically, Elevator Music is a weird one to write about considering the semi-silly theme and briefness of the whole mini-album. Not to mention, Lullatone are basically giving this away so it’s tough to be all that judgmental. Yet when listened to within the context of the duo’s discography, it seems like a natural progression. Lullatone have always been obsessed by sleep – they coined the term “pajama pop” after all – yet here on Elevator Music they rub the crust from their eyes and tackle the world fully awake. Cubicles become pleasant, weekend chores become therapy and “Polka Dots” seem otherworldly. Many people in modern-day Japan need adorable escapes away from the hum-drum of the day – Lullatone just need their imagination, and that’s innocence captured just right.

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Review: Cherryboy Function’s Suggested Function EP #2

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Cite that old Elvis Costello about dancing and architecture if you must, but writing about DJ-made music shouldn’t require any goofy similes in order to convey what a fruitless endeavor it can be. It’s not like more critically-friendly stuff like The Field or Daft Punk, which allows writers to focus on minimalism and Barry Manilow samples respectively instead of having to figure out whether this stuff packs a club (for the record – sometimes and fuck yes). This year’s dubstep darling James Blake released an album being slathered in critical praise that’s also nearly impossible to dance to. When a club-centric DJ puts out an album, though, they tend to emphasize creating great music to dance to over hype-baiting innovation…filling a club gets them paid after all…so writing about this becomes slightly trickier.

Cherryboy Function certainly falls into the “fun times” category. Most articles about the artist spend at least a sentence covering his “acclaimed” DJ stints and tours. He hasn’t released an album in 3-and-a-half-years, and I have a feeling it wasn’t because he hunkered down in the lab trying to change the game. Instead, all available materials indicates he just wanted to focus on his live show. His recently released Suggested Function EP #2 reflects this devotion to his live craft, as all 30 minutes of this EP cater to the weekend set. Yet Cherryboy Function’s also a deceptive architecture and his music hides intricacies that allows a goof like me to write something more than “it has great beats!” So…best of both worlds.

All of Cherryboy’s strengths show on opening number “Pulse Of Change,” a whirling light-show and one of the best Japanese songs released so far this year. He adopts the same super-bright formula fellow Japanese electronic artist De De Mouse uses on his hyper-chipper drum ‘n’ bass bits, yet gives his flashes time to grow and never rushes them. “Pulse” introduces various cartoony twinkles over it’s seven-minute run, each element taking it’s time to blossom until everything sort of hits at once and you wonder how that happened. It’s the sound of stumbling around late-night Shinjuku or Osaka, giddy on booze, and taking in all the gaudy neon shaped signage like it’s the Pyramids. It’s a delirious song, but one that’s been intelligently planned for quite sometime now.

The rest of EP isn’t quite as woozy as “Pulse,” but plenty of moments come close. “Distopia” boast similar pulsing electronics but works in more wobbly bass. It’s a slightly more reeled-in “Pulse Of Change” with the bubbling joy replaced by something a bit more stylish. “Plan E” dabbles in the same congo percussion Baroque and 80kidz toyed around with last year, yet whereas those songs felt like crazy parties spliced up, Cherryboy’s take comes off as wanting to soundtrack said shindigs. It’s also runs a little deeper, as he introduces a strobe-light interlude that then superimposes itself over the rest of the track. Only “Tornado” seems like a slight let-down, being the most generically “club” track on an EP showing considerably more depth than you’d expect. Even then, it’s a perfectly good dance track with, er, great beats.

EP stands as a strong electronic album containing complex structure as well. It’s also the perfect format for Cherryboy…his last full-length Something Electronic featured plenty of similar moments of brilliance but that LP’s hour-plus play time came off as incredibly daunting. Thirty-minute blasts of his tunes are much more agreeable, his songs able to shine without ending up muddled in everything surrounding them. And yeah, for all this geeky analysis it’s an album bound to sound good on earbuds and in a nightclub.

[youtube=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoM9-R9iKPw”]

Live Review: Local Natives And The Antlers At Club Quattro Osaka, February 2 2011

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The most curious part of Local Natives and The Antlers double-bill at Osaka’s Club Quattro came after the show. As concert-goers streamed into the area where both band’s CDs were for sale, members of both groups started making their way out to talk to the people who had just watched them play for the past two-and-a-halfish hours. And the women hovering around the plain, white table went bananas. Hugs were exchanged, ticket stubs signed and cell phones whipped out to snap photos of the artists. Japan tends to overreact to foreign artists…Mr. Big remains virtual demi-gods on this side of the world…and it’s not like people in the West see someone in a band and turn their eyes away. Plus, the dudes in both groups certainly come off as handsome.

Yet this scene in the Club Quattro lobby felt strange because of just how young these two acts really are. Both bands have, for all intensive purposes, only a single album to lean on…The Antlers recorded two albums and several EPs worth of material prior to releasing 2009 breakout Hospice, but the trio’s setlist makes it seem like they only have that one LP to their name. Local Natives and The Antlers also aren’t exactly setting the world on fire – both have nabbed praise from NPR and the oh-so-coveted “Best New Music” tag from Pitchfork, but that’s about it. Maybe in the end it was just the fact these bands put on a great live show at Quattro that had the fans un-wadding pieces of paper for them to sign – despite delivering two very different experiences, both sets proved these groups deserve the looks they keep getting.

The Antlers’ live show has changed a bit since Hospice made them Internet darlings back in 2009. I saw the trio play at the Pitchfork Festival a week before I came to Japan (oh the memories! oh the caffeine-loaded Sparks!), and the group taking the stage that sweltering afternoon dripped earnestness. Playing their first Chicago show ever, they went exclusively through Hospice highlights, delivering them in surprisingly faithful way. The ambient corners of these songs remained, but the gorgeous melodies still rang through as well, along with the emotional core. It was a charming set from a band thrust into the indie-spotlight thanks to an emotionally wrenching record.

A year-and-a-half later and The Antlers have become a more road-seasoned group. The songs now sound bigger, at times almost eyeing stadium status – Hospice featured a collection of songs that felt claustrophobic, but the music played at Quattro came off as just “bigger,” synth-heavy passages going no particular place possibly brought about by the increase in equipment the band had on stage. It’s not really a diss to point this stuff out, because despite all the slight changes the songs retained their soul – say, the overall bleakness of “Sylvia” or the jangling-anxiety of “Two.” Hospice highlight “Bear” displayed these dueling sides most prominently – the whole tune sounded slightly slower than it did on album, the sparse lullaby rings joined by more instruments to beef it up a little, yet the best part remained unchanged, when the chorus sends the whole track off the rails and turns into a manic argument sang entirely by front-man Peter Silberman. The show did feature one new track that confirmed what the band told Pitchfork recently about leaning towards more electronic sounds for their next album. Silberman’s vocals, so vital on Hospice got drowned out by the tag-team of Korg and Nord keyboards. Also, unlike anything else before or after, this track straight-up grooved. This one detour aside, The Antler’s put on a solid opening show that, despite a slightly grander vision, still balanced out ambient suffocation with huge hooks.

Local Natives, on the other hand, wasted no time launching into their music. After a few brief “hello, thanks for having us here tonight” mandatory statements, they launched into the galloping travelogue “Camera Talk,” which was only a few violins away from being an excellent copy of what appeared on last year’s debut Gorilla Manor. From there the quintet went on to play every song off of that album with the same hollerin’ energy, art-school swagger matched up against pretty three-piece harmonizing.

The majority of the group’s set plowed ahead with seemingly un-exhaustible energy, even the slightly slower numbers like the NPR-mentioning “World News” or the obtusely-about-Skype number “Cubism Dream” boasting moments of catharsis via voices joined together and guitars gone crazy. Only the calm “Sticky Thread” and, strangely enough, the closest thing Local Natives have to a “hit” in “Airplanes” being breathers. All this talk of boundless enthusiasm isn’t code for “not good musicians” – Local Natives have their show locked down. They use double percussion which never sounded off, and the harmonizing…picture Fleet Foxes’ with a backbone…similarly never missed the mark. Yet the band likewise never sounded too mechanical either, their songs imbued with a sense of improv that’s most likely so well-scripted it feels spontaneous. Or maybe that’s just a result of how much the member’s flailed about the stage, appearing to be really caught up in the moment.

The best moment of the entire night…ignoring the lobby scene serving as the lead here…came during Local Native’s one-song encore. They played the aggressive “Sun Hands,” a track that spends about a little over a half of it’s run time messing around with folk-speckled rock. The band played it straight until they reached that moment – everyone but the drummer shouting out together before a guitar darts in and rips the song to pieces. Live, this transition captured the painstaking-and-free sides of Local Natives perfectly, and had the people in Quattro going crazy. No wonder they got mobbed afterwards.

Review: The Brixton Academy’s L.O.T. EP

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The late-2010 L.O.T. EP find The Brixton Academy frequenting the same nightclubs they did on Vivid, but this time they mean business. Back on that album, the group ordered a drink and then posted up in the back alone, thinking about having a good time rather than actually having a good time. Fast forward a few months forward and now TBA strut into the club, take up shop in the center of the room and straight-up entertain people with all that awkwardness. Before they probably wore ill-fitting striped button-ups. Now they’ve got suits on.

Which is all analogy to say – same Brixton Academy, just a little more accessible. They’re still borrowing sounds and moves from 80s new wave, and the singing still sounds kinda goofy but charming, still focused on longing and nights out and wanting to be a suaver dude. L.O.T. isn’t a massive departure, but this trio of barely-there songs sound intent on showcasing the band’s songwriting skills. TBA carry themselves like legitimate hit makers over these 11 minutes, eschewing the fits of overwhelming emotion found all over Vivid.

Those passionate whims, though, are what made Vivid one of 2010’s best albums. Sonically, any of L.O.T.’s three tracks could slide into the Vivid tracklisting and disrupt nothing. Yet nothing on this EP comes close to matching the earnestness of the songs on that full-length, let alone nearing the moments of intense release like on “Lovely Lies, Little Signs” or “In My Arms.” Lead track “Catch It!” explores the same themes as Vivid’s best track “So Shy” – romantic yearning mixed with a want for self improvement, the lines here about “if I was self-assured/no more running away” echoing the same sentiments of the wish for “I need more courage.” “So Shy” gave itself over completely to these feelings though, sounding like a constant build-up that ended in intriguing vagueness. “Catch It!” is a pop song, verses and chorus clearly defined with a set finish.

And hey, don’t get me wrong…it’s a hell of a catchy song. If TBA hope to nab any international press, the sparkly synths and multi-tracked vocals making up the chorus of “Catch It!” seem there best chance. “Friday Knight” isn’t as immediately wowing, but rather a highlight clip of the band’s songwriting skills using their very specific style. It’s a track patching disparate segments together via a simple, commanding beat that tops it all off with a synth solo. It’s an amazingly well put-together song and it’s not just resume padding – it sounds great. What’s lacking on “Friday Knight” and “Catch It!,” however, is the emotional urgency that made Vivid this blog’s number three album of 2010. Closer “Shameful Man” comes closest to replicating that rush, a flurry of Reese’s Pieces synths leading to a breathless sprint of a song. The vocals stand out on “Shameful Man,” forced out of their comfort zone by the hurried pace of the track, making self-loathing lines sting much more painfully.

The only crime L.O.T. committed was coming out the same year The Brixton Academy dropped Vivid, because these three songs are great slices of 80s-inspired pop. They might even be small steps forward for the band, a group tightening up a bit in a quest for more listeners. It’s a solid stopgap of a release and nice to see TBA getting a little more professional. But if you fell in love with awkward wallflowers, L.O.T. feels a little different.