Review Summary: SUGARNOISE
Just two LPs and one re-recording into their career, Tokenai Namae have already come to represent an ideal of sorts for Japanese shoegaze. Their sound is a surprisingly seamless fusion of two of Japan’s most recognisable, though typically distinct tropes: on the one hand, their twee e-piano and saccharine female vocals are an instant death—or—salvation-by-candy-store according to personal predilection; on the other, their extremities of overdrive and reverb equip their guitars (celestial), bass (thunderous) and drumming (propulsive) with a palpable urgency and grit. The latter dimension tends to drape itself over the former’s indie pop skeleton like a shroud of electric possession, spiriting it away through however many guises of amplified swoon. The two are inseparable, equally prominent throughout the group’s main modes of songwriting - breathless runaways and midtempo daydreams. That’s a lot of noise for a lot of sugar for a lot of headrush across a lot of dreams. Huh.
Tokenai Namae’s latest EP
Kasuka ni sou Matou packs all of these in generous yet succinct instalments, but it’s also a firm reminder of why the band’s story is still a case of promise rather than perfection. While their aesthetic is rarely less than impeccable, their tracks require strong melodies to be mutually distinguishable. Vocalist Uran Uratani has proved
on occasion that she can command a strong hook, yet her ratio of good to great melodies remains the band’s chief shortcoming; their highlight tracks are so individually spellbinding that it’s a challenge to square a frustration at their potential for greatness with their otherwise respectable baseline of quality. The barnstorming opener “Mahoroba no Reluctance” proves this right out of the gates, depositing the EP’s catchiest inflection in Uratani’s very first line and reinforcing it across layer upon layer of surging noise; it’s a transportive tearaway, instantly in the conversation with their past greats yet immediately out of reach from the remaining three tracks on this EP. These are still no slouch, with “Hagareteku” in particular distinguishing itself in its use of keyboard unisons to foreground a cyclical title hook, but they’re more fixated on affirming the band’s established fundaments than paving the way for the knockout release I firmly believe they have in them. One of these days...
