Before the rainbow, the squall…
[Video]
[6.86]
Dorian Sinclair: Six unique notes, nine notes in total. Aina the End spends nearly the entire runtime of Niji looping through the same melodic figure, a simple descending line. It could be monotonous, but I find myself holding my breath for what comes next, as the unspooling instrumental and the changes in her vocal delivery build to that guttural cry two-and-a-half minutes in. The climax is surprising, but feels inexorable upon arrival — and leaves me feeling oddly bereft as she returns to that haunting descent before fading away altogether.
[9]
Iain Mew: I’m here forever for the feedback howl as revelation. In that one horror movie moment in the song, the creaky old door is finally opened, the dark pool bubbles and spills over, the smashed screen sparks to life by itself, all at once. Amazingly, Aina’s intense vocal and the constant flow of catharsis from there actually manage to live up to it.
[8]
Madi Ballista: Oohh I just can’t get enough of those beautifully haunting vocals and the sheer atmosphere in this song. The lyrics are simple but evocative; she channels so much emotion in her voice, and I really dig a song that stands on the strength of a single riff. I’m in love with the way she wails along with the guitars — the more hoarse her voice, the more distorted the guitar, and the resultant sound is wonderfully textured. It does something fantastic to my brain, and I would like more.
[7]
Alfred Soto: The guitar racket comprising most of its length seared my eyebrows: a representation of a haunting.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: Storm clouds approach, the sky darkens and turns that sickly green “tornado sky” (US Midwesterners know what I’m talking about), the temperature drops 15 degrees as a cold front moves in — but then no rain falls. “Niji” threatens and threatens to do something, something that’s implied could be big, but never does; it’s stuck in neutral and thoroughly disappoints.
[4]
Ryo Miyauchi: Considering how rough-edged voices such as Aina the End’s have historically given off an aura of ambiguous emotional darkness — I immediately think of Shiina Ringo as the archetype — the gothic arrangements of “Niji” reinforce that trend rather than transcend it. That said, it feels fresh to hear Aina’s voice in this cryptic murmur in the verses after having her mainly lay down punk-rock screams in BiSH songs, and it adds an eeriness to a line like “you’re always a ghost/I’m always human/I can’t ever see you.” She has always teased this macabre side (hence “the End” in her name); she’s finally properly exploring it.
[7]
Vikram Joseph: That ominous moment of feedback before the tempestuous, wailing guitars come in at the one-minute mark is exquisitely done, and Aina’s piercing howl lends “Niji” a cathartic immediacy that elevates it considerably, landing somewhere between “Zombie” and “Bring Me To Life” in the grungy melodrama pantheon. It doesn’t have the reach or the range of either of them, though — there’s only so far Aina’s vocals and her effective command of quiet-loud dynamics can carry a song that has the same vocal melody for its entire duration.
[6]