That "We" at the end of Yoshimi P-We has always seem'd so inclusive, in the
same way that the communal spirit of the unstoppable Boredoms space-caravan reached
we-are-one-one-all-in-one fever pitch when they set up as that ecstatic drum-troupe
beating up a rhythmic rejoicing in our joined hands, the high-priestess of all
this seeming to draw you closer to her with the purity of her musical spirit,
Yoshimi rarely intuitive, sensitive, talented, and humble all at once. In her
own band, OOIOO, the Osakan soul-sister has communed a combo that started out
with punk intent, flowered into florid percussive colorings, and has now taken
on an ad-hoc shape with no discernible driving influence. Perhaps taking inspiration
from her fabulous collaboration with Yuka Honda on the gloriously/environmentally
freeform Yoshimi and Yuka record of last year, Kila Kila Kila starts off
playing with all sorts of toy-orchestra and hand-percussion sounds, its opening
title-track lurching through staggering syncopations of Hoahio-ish gibberish,
before giving way to the tension/release fun-and-games of "Ene Soda." Here, things
mill around random clanks of wood/metal that include wacked soft-drink cans,
only to be suddenly punctuated with truncated flanges of swiped electric guitar,
each
of which promises to usher in the hot rhythmic rock on appearance, only to recede
swiftly back into the percussive clatter, with only a lingering trail of decay
left behind. It's not until the third track, "Sizuku Ring Neng," that Yoshimi
and crew tackle something close to songform; and, even then, it's not until the
next tune, "On Mani" — a song indulging in surf guitar, sinuous strings,
and spaghetti-Western horns — that things kick into some sort of consistent
rhythm. For those who had grown used to Boredoms' percussion-orgy period — from Super
Ar through to Vision Creation Newsun, with OOIOO's Feather Float in
the middle — such intermittence will give the album a broken feel, making
it feel like its indulgences in improvisation and its ad-hoc demeanor are acts
lacking discipline. And, to some degree, this is true, with Kila Kila Kila caught
in between the kraut-rockist focus of Feather Float and the darling spontaneity
of the Yoshimi and Yuka set. Yet this should hardly be grounds to dismiss a work
as irrepressible and capricious as this; it's one that can deliver romantic post-rock-ish
polyrhythms filled with cowbell tonking and intricate hand-percussion ("Northern
Lights"), and an arrhythmic dance of samples/drums/steel-drums/piano-figures
pirouetting like dizzied dervishes ("Anuenue Au").
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