The insane volume of records — and good records — currently being
released means that so much amazing music is bound to slip between the
cracks. And, when cultural difficulties are inherent in having
music made difficult to discover, there's no surprise at all that
so many genius discs remain shrouded in an obscurity that they don't
deserve. It's no surprise that Japan, consumerist wonderland, is still
a rich source of stellar audio waiting to be mined by outsiders. Whilst
there's been a steady stream of notable names finding fame outside of
Japan (Cornelius the obvious poster-boy), and a whole community of
extreme outsiders from that PSF/Alchemy-centered psychedelic underground
who've long been celebrated by, well, The Wire readers, basically, there are still scores of untapped scenes of which even the most discerning
listener might remain unaware.
Majikick, a Tokyo-based enclave notable
mostly for its connections to the world of Maher Shalal Hash Baz, is one
such self-contained "scene," its small community of creative types
running deep enough, now, that there are blossoming branches shooting
off from the main family tree. Cacoy is a smaller, on-the-side outfit
featuring Saya and Ueno, both members of melancholy pop-combo
Tenniscoats, a band whose dreamy tunes and beautiful bashfulness fit in
very much with the "handmade" aesthetic of The Pastels' Geographic
imprint (the label largely responsible for introducing both Maher Shalal
Hash Baz and Nagisa Ni Te to Western ears). Ueno also plays in ad-hoc
big-band Puka Puka Brains, and is intermittently included in MHSB's
revolving orchestra of players. Cacoy could be described, in pat terms,
as their "electronic side project," but such a prosaic descriptive seems
almost dismissive when you compare it to the musical wonder they conjure
on Human Is Music.
Combining with DJ Klock, the set sets up simple,
elegant electronic rhythms and then builds them into endearing tunes
whose rhythmic simplicity serves to focus on the inherent melody of the
songs. This comes not just through twittering flitters of abstract
programming, rich keytones, and dangling guitars, all of which grace the
disc, but in tuned percussion, soprano saxophone, and Saya's sweet
singing. In its two most melodic songs — "Piracle Pa," and the disc's
single "Mural of Music," neither of which can really be called "pop" at
their seven- and nine-minute run-times — they bring all this together in charmed fashion, fashioning highly-rhythmic numbers which could easily earn a
place amongst that pantheon of folk — Barbara Morgenstern, Dntel, Juana
Molina — cultivating sentimental songs on the electro underground's more
friendly fringes. Another striking moment is "Melodies," where Klock's
influence comes to the fore through the tune's beat-looped backbeat,
though this hip-hop-ish rhythm is matched with randomly-generated
electronic sounds and multi-tracked harmonies of soprano sax.
Elsewhere, well, perhaps the side-project vibe reigns, with excursions
into garbled electronics or simple soprano-saxophone riffs riffing on
random sketches that don't seem quite in league with the rest of
proceedings; and the beautiful closer "Cool Spring Minister," with its
dangling acoustic guitar figures and glowing melodica, seems to be a
refugee from a wholly different disc. But, for the most part, Cacoy's
excursions into electronic sounds are careful concoctions of the
abstract and the tuneful, their fabulously human music music that could,
if given the opportunity, endear them to a sizeable smattering of
underground hipsters the globe over.
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