![]() ![]() Narashite introduces soaring guitar riffs, along with the drums, and they ring out throughout the entire song like riffs do in a post-rock song. Haru makes more noise for us in the intro and throws us in a spinning room with organic-sounding drums circling the mix, a sunny guitar and some fizzing synths popping in and out – if nothing else, it’s a good kick to the listener to what to expect from the album. And the fact that she seems to repeat certain phrases cement in the idea that the album is a solid body of work rather than just a collection of good tracks. ![]() Going by translations on a Google doc I found on Reddit (I couldn’t find any other reliable sources), the lyrics resemble abstract poetry – which explains why Haru’s vocal delivery often feels like spoken word. The album feels like a real body of work with interconnected samples and the noisy, bleeding guitars and synths, repeating phrases – it’s meandering, incorporating change-ups, but no track feels disconnected from the album until we get into the remix section.īefore I go and fawn over the sonic aspects of the album, I will touch on a bit on her lyrics. But on this album, she takes bits and pieces from her previous EP and builds her sound from scratch – she blends up a wider range of genres and makes her own cocktail of electronic Jpop, noise pop, shoegaze, post-rock, and hip-hop. Haru to Shura is Haru Nemuri’s first studio album, following up from Atom Heart Mother – which is a great EP where she seemed to be experimenting with different sub-genres of electronic pop. But instead of singing to a lover, she adopts Nietzsche’s concept of “amor fati” and declares her love for the struggle of being alive-both the good and bad.There are albums, where they just click with you, where it couldn’t be more noticeable that there’s a burning ambition and a compelling personality behind it within the first couple of listens – Haru Nemuri’s Haru to Shura is one of them for me. The bouncy melody and glittering poetry of “Ikiru,” which translates to “live,” sounds like a traditional romantic love song. After more than an hour of Haru’s candid self-doubt and self-confessed misery, the logic of her decision to embrace love for its own sake is sincere and unsaccharine. Optimistic punk records aren’t anything new, but Shunka Ryougen is convincing in its balance of nihilism and hope. Ultimately, she offers herself a solution steeped in both obliteration and renewal: “Breathe in, breathe out, and become a song.” Despite all of Haru’s frustration and fury, her poetry finally blossoms into joy. ![]() Destruction is not only external: “Never Let You Go,” Shunka Ryougen’s crown jewel, deconstructs the very idea of Haru Nemuri-the moving, self-destructive cry of its chorus confesses that Haru’s “whole body is hoping to disappear.” It’s so vivid you can practically feel her gripping you by the collar and demanding an answer. When she asks, “Why do you want to die? Why do you want to live?” on the title track, her voice deepens into a growl that knifes into her vocal cords. There’s an inexpressible depth of conviction in Haru’s delivery her voice is a finely reactive instrument that can switch from a desperate, out-of-breath invocation to a primal scream at the drop of a pin. Frenzied, she fires off a litany of invective-spitting “asshole!” at a “pedigreed politician” on “Old Fashioned,” arguing with herself about the efficacy of her own lyricism and punctuating the quarrel with a self-directed “shut the fuck up!” on “Heart of Gold,” and personifying global warming as a flaming angel as she cries “Who the fuck is burning the forest?” on a track of the same name. The recurring motif of déconstruction refers to Jacques Derrida’s philosophy of dismantling form and medium to better understand concepts themselves, an idea Haru vibrantly reappropriates into the tangible context of her music. The cybernetic rhythm and Haru’s glacial Auto-Tune electrify tracks like the erhu-tongued “Souzou Suru” and the eerily bare “Sister With Sisters.” The martial march of “Déconstruction,” a single threaded with references to Fight Club, introduces Shunka Ryougen’s obsession with catalysts as Haru instructs: “Let’s start our paradigm shift/Like the project mayhem.” Though it cycles a flurry of musical ideas, the record avoids overshadowing Haru’s presence instead, it works alongside the searing dynamism of her voice. Shunka Ryougen sustains the voice and tempo, but takes on a colder, more mechanical cast. In 2018, Haru To Shura infused breakneck, upbeat J-pop with the sound of DIY reinvention. Haru’s sound is hemmed with an experimental, noise-rock edge, an eccentricity flavored with Aurora’s superlunary alt-pop, the rich detail of Fugazi’s punk, and the proud “RIOT GRRRL” label in her Twitter bio. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |