Tuesday, February 19
Fantasma, the 1998 breakthrough record and American debut from Japanese oddball Keigo Oyamada (whose nom du disque is taken from Planet of the Apes) was a thrillingly original, but frenetic and impossibly eclectic collage of an album that encompassed stylistic (as well as lyrical) allusions to dozens upon dozens of musicians (the Beach Boys, the Clash, J.S. Bach) and genres (hardcore, bossa nova, videogame soundtracks), often splicing them together in second-long fragments to create what might be called (to quote one of the track titles) a micro-disneycal world tour. It was undeniably fun at times, but there was simply too much going on for it to work as a real album. In light of this, the title of Cornelius' newest release is unimaginably appropriate. Where Fantasma was splintering in a thousand different directions, this new record is cohesive, compelling, and meaningful: it very much has a point.
To begin with, Cornelius works with a surprisingly simple and consistent sonic palette. Almost all of the tracks here are built on combinations of precisely plucked acoustic guitar chords, sparse but carressing breathy vocal snippets, crisp percussion that sounds like it actually comes from a real drum set. Sure, he changes things up a bit: "Another View Point" gets a bit rocky with spiralling electrics and a solid bass groove; the playful "Drop" masterfully encorporates the sounds of water dripping and splashing (a terrific accompanying video shows a young boy washing his hand); elsewhere we find birdcalls, subtle banjo plucks, tastefully arranged electronic clicks and beeps, and snatches of theremin. But all of this is carefully reined in and channelled toward an overarching sense of unity and calm which prevails throughout - even on the frantic, fractured, faux-metal "I Hate Hate," glimpses of melodic majesty emerge from of the chaos. The album also flows in a literal sense - most of the tracks merge into one another, linked by rhythmic and textural motifs as well as a unified sound. Although Oyamada's stunning voice dominates the album, usually multitracked in dense, lush harmonies on sustained "aaahs," it's easy to lose sight of the fact that these are individual songs (no doubt in part because even the English lyrics are largely undecipherable - the chorus of "Smoke," which simply repeats the title four times, comes off as "soo-moooohg.") One highlight is an irresistable update of bossa nova classic (and Terry Gilliam theme song) "Brazil," with a mellifluous computer warble taking on the soaring melody. Despite its lush beauty, the record is also intensely rhythmic, and consistently danceable (if you dance like I dance), alluding to Brazilian samba, upbeat house-like grooves, and complex funk while never quite giving way to one genre absolutely. Promo material for this album suggests that it's equally appropriate for listening in the car or through headphones - I would add the dancefloor and a late-night lounge sofa to that list, but the point stands that this is a versatile record, capable of providing immense listening pleasure in any number of situations. The best point of reference I can make is to Björk, and I think that's a fairly accurate comparison, but I think that what Cornelius has done here is something truly unique. Point is gorgeous, engaging, and magical. (9/10)