
There’s an old joke about Japanese pop and rock music that’s often repeated: “Well, that’s what happens when you lack a solid tradition in blues-based rock and roll.” Such a comment is typically said when Americans comment on incarnations of “American” genres of music. The phrase is the manifestation of an attitude that holds that America, because it is such a rich cultural melting pot, has bred some of the best forms of music ever. Why, we have blues and jazz, and after that, every form of music since, regardless of how different it sounds from the latter two categories, is built upon those two unique cultural forms. Anything else is just a cheap substitute: another culture that got into these American forms after the fact, and now it’s just a simulacra. Acid Mothers Temple? Nothing more than Grateful Dead and Jimi Hendrix, except this time no one cares because psychedelia is bullshit (so the argument goes: don’t shoot the messenger).
That’s the way people traditionally think. Sure, American music’s influence on the rest of the globe is undeniable. If Chuck Berry never bothered with “Johnny B. Goode,” The Beatles as we know them might not have ever existed, and the cultural singularity they represent in the history of rock ‘n’ roll music may have carried an entirely different meaning. Ecdysis, on the other hand, cannot be dismissed as an ape of American pop music. In other words, a more compelling argument to make here is that: American artists may have gotten the ball rolling – given everyone the cultural framework from which to work with – but what the artist does with those conventions, norm, standards, etc. (whether the musician embraces them wholeheartedly or throws them out the window) is what we call originality. Miho Hatori has taken several genres – some from America, some from her own culture – and carved out a unique sound with them. At once, you’re able to hear something completely new, as well as (if you’re discerning enough) where it comes from.
Right from the beginning, the title track evokes a dream world, and that’s essentially what the experience of listening to the album is like: dreamy, moody, and soothing at the same time. There’s hints of Os Mutantes, Björk, and American pop idolatry, but the important thing to keep in mind is that this is Hatori’s own take on such a sound. “A Song For Kids” hits with one of the most powerful choruses I’ve heard in a pop song in a long, long time. Where the verses might lead you to think it’s almost a Japanese hybrid of a Beyonce tune, the chorus grabs you out of the street and into an alleyway, making it the focal point of the song’s energy and groove. All and all, not a perfect album, and it may not be as ground breaking as I am making it out to be. Some might even find it a bit silly, but Miho Hatori is definitely worth paying attention to.
www.mihohatori.com
www.rykodisc.com
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Trey Perkins