We do tend not to cover many wolf-masked Limp Bizkits…
[Video][Website]
[7.00]
Patrick St. Michel: I hate most contemporary Japanese rock music. OK, that’s maybe a little strong — always will have these guys — but whereas J-pop in 2014 is overflowing with great ideas, J-rock leans on HEAVY RIFFS and YELLING and GUYS WEARING WOLF HEADS WHO SOUND LIKE LIMP BIZKIT. Tokyo outfit Passepied have teased at being an alternative from the jock-ish junk clogging the charts, but until recently they’ve always felt like they were missing something to separate them from the groups they took cues from. They’ve made strides lately, though, and “Tokyo City Underground” is their finest moment to date, a twisty number starting as a fidgety stomper before breaking into a dash and pivoting into other ideas along the way. It’s great because it manages to be dramatic and multi-parted without sacrificing catchiness — the one thing they’ve always had going for them — showing that the stuff that plays at your typical Japanese rock festival doesn’t have to be just knuckle-headed towel-waving music.
[8]
Megan Harrington: Style Council’s soulful synthesizers and The Stills’ rainy guitars make a sophisticated and romantic pairing on “Tokyo City Underground.” The instrumental heaviness is cut by an undiminished vocal cheeriness that suggests a sort of new wonder in your familiar surroundings. Together the song feels light and modern, perfect for the days when you want to see something new without leaving your own head.
[8]
Brad Shoup: I’m hearing Scritti Politti: in the imported island rhythms, the nu-rock chunks and the profound jazz chords upon which Oogoda Natuski suspends her line endings. That it still ends up as a rather straightforwardly structured pop-rock tune just adds to its lineage.
[8]
Anthony Easton: The French classical dance Passepied is named after is mostly an abstracted pastoral (it came from the same time as the painter Lorrain), and featured pairs of lovers formally reenacting a courtship dance with very little touching. It is a dance about aesthetics rather than sex. I find the idea fascinating, but have no idea what this song has to do with that.
[5]
Alfred Soto: The disco strings and Franz Ferdinand riffage honor their name, and if the vocals don’t honor them let’s all meet up in the year 2000.
[6]
Crystal Leww: The guitar work here reminds me of tricot and their playful experimentation with mechanization and maths, but it’s all reeled in and kept within the boundaries of a normal song structure by the drums. Those drums put in work as a guiding rhythm that vividly conjures up memories of the drumming that drove the sadly defunct Those Dancing Days. The result is delightfully poppy and twinkly for what could be a standard guitar track.
[6]
Will Adams: The jazz chords threaten to push this into treacly territory, but the propulsive chorus rushes by like an express train, and it’s exhilarating. I wish the New York subways felt like this.
[7]
Katherine St Asaph: For a while half the New York subway cars had this Sophie Blackall piece up. This is like the polka-dotted girls snatching the fern bouquet, opening the cello case to unleash one of those Disney-cartoon rainbow swaths of music, and duetting with the clown. Trust me that this is good.
[8]
