Japanese multi-instrumentalist Yoshimi P-We is the longstanding drummer in the Japanese group Boredoms, one of the more consistently rewarding rock outfits to have emerged during the last 25 years. Since the late-‘90s she’s also led OOIOO, and after the absence of over half a decade they’re back with the excellent new album Gamel.
In the upside-down milieu of the ‘90s music scene, Boredoms’ singular amalgamation of noise rock and Carl Stalling-inspired genre slice-and-dice (this aptly describes only a portion of their discography) managed an unusually high profile due to a contract with Warner Brothers and appearances on the big stage of the era’s summer tour juggernaut Lollapalooza.
Of course, lots of folks probably recognize Yoshimi’s name from the title of a certain highly popular release by the Flaming Lips. She’s also a contributor on that 2002 LP, though the connection isn’t an especially enlightening one; it does underscore Yoshimi as a well-liked figure in terms of both personality and collaboration.
In addition to her long tenure in Boredoms, OOIOO, and that titular guest-spot for the Lips, the list of her associates includes Cibo Matto’s Yuka Honda (as the duo Yoshimi and Yuka), Ween (in the ‘90s one-off Z-Rock Hawaii), and Sean Lennon (adding vocals to OOIOO’s Gold and Green); his presence tightens the link between Yoshimi and the woman Thurston Moore proclaimed as the “queen of noise.”
The comparison to Yoko might seem a lazy one based on gender and nationality, but even though Yoshimi is a very skilled musician (the rapid-fire redirection of early Boredoms required a drummer of appreciable ability), her own work regularly displays, for want of a better term, “conceptual-art” elements that can be described as Ono-esque. It’s a trait Yoshimi shares with her frequent playing partner Kim Gordon; along with ex-Pussy Galore guitarist Julia Cafritz and Pavement bassist Mark Ibold, they shaped up ‘90s indie supergroup Free Kitten.
Yoshimi first appeared in ‘80s Japan as a member of UFO or Die, an aggregation that included Yamatsuka Eye, then noted not for Boredoms, his vocals for Naked City or as a remix artist, but for the extremity of Hanatarash. With UFO or Die (occasionally lengthened to Unlimited Freak Out or Die) and Boredoms, Hanatarash was part of a scene that attempted (amongst other endeavors) to merge post-Hardcore rock at its most uncompromising, the abrasion and unpredictability of noise and a few pointers from the pages of young John Zorn.
This is where Boredoms, a band that’s overload of form and content is perhaps only transcended by their ability to drop jaws in the live context, comes in. Retrospectively, it makes total sense that Yoshimi would branch out; Boredoms was so brimming with ideas that the outside projects now seem inevitable. First it was Free Kitten, next it was solo, and then OOIOO, the Yoshimi-led outfit touring in ’97 as openers for Sonic Youth after apparently being made up as a “fake band” for a magazine photo shoot.
All of the above could give the impression that Yoshimi P-We’s output is predominantly for the toughest of ears, and in some of the aforementioned specifics that’s not untrue. But while reliably rigorous in experimentation, OOIOO also downplays the harsh qualities commonly associated with noise music to enter regions catchy and even downright accessible. OOIOO (pronounced oh oh eye oh oh) present post-rock experimentalism appropriate for all ages and disparate temperaments.
To be sure, if an adolescent or even prepubescent niece or nephew sauntered up to me at a family reunion to ask for experimental rock recommendations, I’d seriously contemplate dropping the name OOIOO in between bites of potato salad. And this isn’t an example mellowing over time; I’d point any tenderfoots to the 1997 debut, a release alternately listed as self-titled or under the symbol ∞8∞.
With the completion of Gamel OOIOO has issued six additional full-lengths (the last five via Thrill Jockey) and an EP of remixes by Eye. Along the way the group, since ‘06’s Taiga a core quartet of Yoshimi, guitarist Kayan, bassist Aya, and drummer AI, has evolved from outsider pop with occasional deft flourishes of Yoko-ist conceptualism into a unit capable of rich Krautrock grooves and cyclical motion that’ll make most math-rockers hang their heads in inadequacy. By extension, the instrumental acumen on display might inspire a tip of the cap from numerous prog-loving noggins.
And yet an engaging melodic attitude continued to sneakily snake through the records, and over the last few OOIOO began emitting flashes of an intriguing cross-cultural tribalism. Gamel increases these developments, offering a sincere and productive investigation of Javanese gamelan music as one prominent aspect of the band’s most inviting album.
Opener “Don Ah” immediately exudes gamelan’s unique rhythmic properties as derived from the use of metallophones, though the soaring wordless singing momentarily triggered thoughts of the Beach Boys as filtered through Animal Collective. The voices are in fact as meticulously arranged as the instrumentation, and at roughly mid-way the track brandishes a truly swell psych-prog segment before exploring a compositional tangent partially reminiscent of Alexander Desplat’s soundtrack to Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom. Unsurprisingly, it spins into a much darker place. In a word; wow.
“Shizuku Gunung Agung” intensifies and also strains the rhythms (a spot recalls cartoon sound-effects), though as it unfolds there is huge bass riffing and layered vocal strategies; it’s odd without succumbing to quirk. “Pebarongan” returns to a sparser gamelan atmosphere only to intertwine it with singing that’s strange but obviously precise. The mallets increasingly assert their presence and eventually cede space to guitar and distorted keyboard. It creates a genuinely tense ambiance enhanced by the quickening tempo.
From there the cyclical bell-like precision of the gamelan percussion commencing “Gamel Ninna Yama” is combined with bursts of tribal-rock pound and avant-prog angularity. Then comes a spazz-out, more harmony and a detour into left-field infectiousness; it’s incredibly accessible and yet so bent as to feel fairly subversive.
The tribal groove of “Gamel Uma Umo” is almost African, however. It’s gradually infiltrated by psych-guitar patterns and then diverts into what sounds like an anthropological recording, complete with referee’s whistles, of an enthusiastic playground routine. In “Gamel Kamasu” the guitar mingles with Yoshimi’s always welcome trumpet playing; when the vocals arrive the piece attains an extremely ragged pulse before disintegrating into abstraction, only to rebuild itself largely through those insistent gamelan motifs.
For these ears, “Atatawa” is Gamel’s highpoint. It manages to evoke traditionalism, the incessant repetition of New York minimalism and avant rock at its most inspired; really, it’s as if fledgling Steve Reich, second album Raincoats, and OOIOO somehow all synched-up, with maybe a member or two of Os Mutantes thrown in for good measure (the bass slightly reminds me of the Brazilian’s “Bat Macumba”); after listening to Nonesuch’s string of early ‘70s Court Gamelan LPs, they create this beautifully methodical mess.
If not legitimately pop, “Jesso Testa” hones melodicism, sharp angles, vocal harmony/chanting and rhythmic magnetism into Gamel’s most approachable selection. “Gamel Udahah” bears the disc’s densest stretch, though the band shifts gears again to engage with a structure that under different circumstances could be adapted into a legit pop scenario.
“Kecupat Aneh” may be the closest Gamel comes to the recognizably “World Music” vibes of yesteryear, but it’s still quite tweaked overall, Yoshimi emoting like a champ in spots. Closer “Gamel Ulda” subtly blends the gamelan with nature/environmental sounds; it’s suddenly as if we’re in the midst of a Tower Records’ “Other” section circa-’85 while tripping on prime blotter.
OOIOO has been remarkably consistent (and not just in experimental terms), but Gamel easily rates as their strongest release. It took over five years to make, and it’s readily apparent as to why; at just beyond halfway through, it stands as one of the best records to meet this writer’s acquaintance in 2014.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A
