400 blows: A few greatest hits

After reading Elisabeth Vincentelli’s contribution to the 33 1/3 series, ABBA GOLD, I’m left thinking less about defending ABBA (because I really don’t think they need to be defended any longer; they’re kind of pop royalty, having finally been critically acknowledged), and more about defending greatest hits compilations in general, much of which Vincentelli discusses in the introduction. I used to be opposed to compilations for the simple reason that I wanted to be a part of a band as much as possible and thought the only way to do that would be to listen to entire, original albums, particularly in chronological order; if I couldn’t be a part of U2’s progression through the 80s, I wanted to at least be there synthetically. But in reality that’s sort of impossible: just being alive and breathing assures you’ve heard dozens of songs by artists out of chronological and even cultural context.

Today I think compilations are a good starting ground for unfamiliar artists; the only problem arises when these compilations are the best a group has to offer. These so-called “singles bands” shouldn’t exactly be written out of the canon, maybe just re-imagined to a hearkening of a not-so-long-ago time when singles were all that mattered and albums were those things that nobody really bought. However, thanks in part to The Beatles and Brian Wilson, who helped create the modern concept of an album, we now have a po-mo concept of compilations:

There’s perceived to be something distinctly second-rate about compilations, like sending a pre-printed thank-you note instead of a hand-written one: It smacks of an after-thought, something that can’t be taken quite seriously. Worst of all, it smacks of something done for purely mercantile reasons. Since bands and record companies have recouped their recording and promotional expenses, compilations are what happens when someone wants to make quick cash. They’re also what happens when a band is in a creative quagmire, or on hiatus, or gone: the reminder of something that was, not the promise of something that could be. (Vincentelli 7)

I can think of plenty of artists the dreaded “compilation” has affected negatively; Chihiro’s post-EMI split releases that really were outright manipulative cash cows, Ayumi Hamasaki’s A BEST, which she vehemently opposed, going so far as to appear in tears on the front cover, and pretty much all of hide’s compilations which serve as nothing more than posthumous dividends. And that’s just three artists off the top of my head. But conceivably, there may have been some bands that really were just the sum of a dozen really great songs. That isn’t to say that their contribution to music history is really any less (not if we’re looking at quality over quantity) but simply that they may not have been built for rock operas or extended concepts, instead, flourishing in the reduced brilliance of three or four minute mini-epics. Vincentelli notes that “acknowledging that your favorite band’s most important album is a compilation somehow casts a pall on the band itself – and thus on your judgment for championing that group” (5) but I don’t necessarily think that’s true, depending on the artist (and so doesn’t she, not really). I don’t think a lot of people  (especially critics) would pick a greatest hits album by the Beatles, Bob Dylan, or even Michael Jackson as their favorite, even if, statistically speaking, that album is the artists’ best seller.  But in acknowledging that greatest hits do have merit somewhere in this great big universe, and that ABBA’s GOLD is already de facto number one (don’t believe me? read the book), here are ten more of my favorite greatest hits compilations:

Golden Earring: The Continuing Story of Radar Love (1989)

I may be pushing this one a bit too far; how easy could it possibly be to scale down a band who, up until 1989, had released nineteen original albums? Probably if most of the albums weren’t all that great. In the 60s, Golden Earring (known as The Golden Earrings) sounded like  any other British band, except nobody really cared about a little band from The Hague, except maybe people in the Hague. In the early 70s, Golden Earring, like many bands, re-focused their style and released “Radar Love,” a song you may recognize from classic rock stations or the second Wayne’s World movie. It wouldn’t be until 1983 that they released their first U.S. #1 with “Twilight Zone” a very rich, very long, rock epic that has become something of a musical swan song (very sad for the “oldest rock band in the world“), aptly noted by its inclusion as the last track on the CD and not the first. The Continuing Story of Radar Love isn’t necessarily the ultimate collection of Golden Earring songs (again nineteen albums; twelve songs) but it does offer a broad representation of their sound (rock with an honest, sometimes pop, sensibility in its melodies), encompasses two of their most beloved songs, and by omitting any mention of ‘greatest hits’ or ‘definitive collection,’ even purports an answer to Vincentelli’s point that compilations are the end, and not the beginning.

T.M.Revolution: UNDER:COVER (2006)

What’s so great about this greatest hits compilation is that it’s not even technically a greatest hits compilation; instead, Takanori Nishikawa, the main man behind the name, re-sung, re-arranged, and re-mixed fourteen songs in his catalog. While the choices aren’t all that great, the new versions of each of the tracks are. T.M.R’s style hasn’t really changed significantly, though Nishikawa’s other band abingdon boys school, probably had an influence on making the songs heavier, faster and more electric. There is no in between on UNDER:COVER: tracks like “THUNDERBIRD” have been restrained and taken down to the barest essentials, while “Twinkle Million Rendezvous” has a full orchestra. It may not be the best place to lead someone unfamiliar with the band’s work, but it certainly makes it worth purchasing for long-time fans.

Blondie: The Best of Blondie (1981)

Nobody will deny Blondie’s contribution to music history; however, though the studio efforts may have be more important, they’re certainly not as fun. It also says a lot that despite more than half a dozen more compilations following its release, 1981’s The Best of Blondie still has every single track that made Blondie so enjoyable. From the disco-inspired “Heart of Glass” to the punk-smeared “Hanging on the Telephone” the best of Blondie really does have every popular and well-loved Blondie song, in all its evolutionary glory.

Tommy heavenly6: Gothic Melting Ice Cream’s Darkness Nightmare (2009)

This album is almost farcical considering Tomoko Kawase only released two albums under this moniker (and she released a greatest hits for her Tommy february6 persona that same day). I think this compilation was meant to be a sort of end in a musical perspective (and one in a very poor direction, I was to learn). However, this compilation really does encapsulate the best of the two discs she did manage to release. Sure, it might be missing those really cool B-side acoustic versions of “Lost my pieces” and “+gothic Pink+” but it includes both singles and good album-cuts (”fell in love with you”/”2Bfree”) without being bogged down by too many fictitiously good B-sides. Though it may seem redundant to ardent fans of Tommy heavenly6’s work, it trumps the worst aspects of the sometimes filler-tracked self-titled Tommy heavenly6 and Heavy Starry Heavenly.

Whitesnake: The Definitive Collection (2006)

I’m not sure most 80’s rock bands weren’t sewn for greatest hits; most people remember Def Leppard, Skid Row, and Poison for a handful of singles, schmaltz, and not much else. But while a lot of commercial-oriented bands took themselves too seriously (Bon Jovi) or not seriously enough (Motley Crue), Whitesnake kind of fell in between. They had David Coverdale, a glam-ham by any other name, and his girlfriend, but they also had a classic rock upbringing (at least initially) that influenced what would later amount to a really hard-sell of commercial rock. You could argue that Whitesnake’s Greatest Hits released in 1994 gets the job done, but I prefer the sequencing of The Definitive Collection for a few reasons: 1) it opens with more blues-rock pieces that says something about the band’s origins, 2) it chooses songs from more than just three albums (as good as they were), and 3) um, why not a few extra tracks? While 2008’s 30th Anniversary Collection took things a bit too far (3 discs? really?), The Definitive Collection remains…a definitive collection of really great Whitesnake tunes that doesn’t make you feel excessively bad for liking something so perversely wonderful.

B’z: The Best “ULTRA” Pleasure (2008)

Speaking of excess, there’s a difference between too much and just enough; sometimes less really is more, at least in the case of B’z. For a band that has been around twenty-one years, owning all sixteen of their albums is quite unnecessary. This 2-disc compilation contains some of the best singles of the band’s career, all remastered to perfection (and I really mean that; some remasters just make things louder or less fuzzy, but these songs really sound phenomenal with a good pair of headphones), trumping 1998’s single-disc The Best Pleasure, while including some of the band’s later work on disc 2.

Nanase Aikawa: ID (1999)

Nanase Aikawa’s first hits compilation features all of her best songs with a few notable exceptions from 2000’s Foxtrot (for obvious reasons), but it hardly matters much; Aikawa’s style was already changing with the new millennium and ID chronicles her short, but fruitful career as an 80’s metal-influenced 90’s alterna-chick. Since I was never interested in her post-90’s output, it only makes sense that ID says everything good about Aikawa without eluding to what would later become subdued, restrained pop rock.

Stevie Nicks: Timespace: The Best of Stevie Nicks (1991)

I had two choices: I could pick Crystal Visions or Timespace, and without hesitation, I chose Timespace; Crystal Visions is bogged down by not enough great songs and too many live cuts (though I do really like the live version of “Rhiannon,” it’s not even a Stevie Nicks song, belonging to the Fleetwood Mac canon). Timespace, on the other hand, contains everything good and wonderful about the mystical “Reigning Queen of Rock and Roll” that not even multi-platinum albums like Bella Donna and The Wild Heart could do. It features some of her best collaborations (with Tom Petty, Bon Jovi, and Prince – yes, that’s him playing synth on “Stand Back”), along with the surrealist mix of rock and magic that has made her so entertaining (both musically and personally). Fleetwood Mac may have been more pure in its genre, but Nicks challenges the foundations of that trade through her unique vocals, bluesy swagger and mystical inspiration. I’ll always enjoy Nicks more for her most successful tunes than the albums that comprised them.

Pet Shop Boys: Discography: The Complete Singles Collection (1991)

If ABBA threw their arms around the flighty, four minute pop song, the Pet Shop Boys carried the dropped torch into the 80s. Nobody is going to deny that the Pet Shop Boys wrote some excellent albums, all which contained great songs – but the Pet Shop Boys will be most remembered for their mastery over what would be the singles’ last flourishing decade. Discography, released right before the start of their most disappointing albums, is the epitome of all things quick and consumable about pop music, tinged with a misty aura of italo disco; everybody knows these songs are unmistakably from one of the gluttonous decades that would later result in both backlash and an endless revival. But Chris Lowe and Neil Tennant never tried to do anything but make really fun music and they accomplished just that with an elegant pride. With an injection of wit, sarcasm, and intelligence, every single song on this compilation is more than an ode to the great theme of pop (love and all its permutations), it’s also an ode to the ennui of suburbs, religious guilt, making money (or trying to), loving someone (because he/she pays your rent), and political headlines (though in a somewhat pointedly disaffected way). ABBA may have made it look easy, but the Pet Shop Boys made it look appealing.

Journey: The Essential Journey (2001)

This might be a bit far-fetched; The Essential Journey doesn’t have any songs from their first three albums (a real pity, as I find them genuinely interesting and meritable classic rock); but what it lacks in musical self-awareness, it makes up for in personal self-awareness: Steve Perry’s vocals put Journey on the map and the band kind of knows that. The Essential Journey caters to the lowest common denominator by compiling really great singles from a band that not everyone will admit to liking, but whose songs have become staples of American rock (I imagine “Don’t Stop Believin’” might be one of the most definitive American rock songs, but that’s debatable and I’m still working through the counter-arguments – for one, that Journey sure isn’t an indestructible band, being marred by a few poor records that have driven them and their fans into a closet, and two, that their very inclusion on this list is something of a double-edged sword that denies their right to that privilege; clearly, I believe a greatest hits collection is better than any one of their original albums, putting the issue of single-bands versus album-bands at odds all over again). Journey was never an album-oriented band, though their albums as a whole were huge sellers, particularly from 1978 to 1983. There are some strange choices that mar disc 2 (”Chain Reaction” is a good song off of Frontiers, but “Troubled Child” is much more powerful), but that’s even if you get that far – disc 1 is really all you need, and the only reason I didn’t pick 1988’s Greatest Hits is for its exclusion of “After the Fall.” There’s nothing really essential about most essential compilations (especially those with more than one disc) – except for this one.

Do you think the ‘greatest hits’ compilation has any true merit? Which artists do you think flourish in the greatest hits format – and which don’t?

You got the fire: 2NE1

I was all about Rain when he released “Rainism,” a genuinely great, classically Korean pop song: flavors of hip-hop, smoothed over with plenty of techno gloss and synth spackle. Until I saw him perform it live. All the charm of the faux arrogance, and the wet delivery of lyrics like “I’m gonna be a bad, bad boy” suddenly seemed so…manufactured. It would be stupid not to expect that in pop music, but the sheer translucence of live performances always makes me stop and wonder why they don’t even bother trying anymore.

Korean quartet 2NE1 released their (digital) debut single at the beginning of May with all the similar basic elements (the good, but not great dancing; the appropriate, but tacky costumes; the catchy, but limited single “Fire,”) to what seems like positive reception. Though they’re relative nobodies, they’ve got the right people behind them who have even solicited a collaboration with massively huge impopsters BigBang on a song appropriately titled “Lollipop“: it’s colorful, sweet, and gone in a couple dozen licks. The music video is stunningly bright, like every ‘09 pop cliche amplified: laser lemon and electric lime clothes of various designs, patterns, and fabrics that only match the equally pizzazzed backdrop, psychedelic haircuts, and outrageous sunglasses propped on garishly painted faces; this is the first group that has made me feel both so young and so old. Much like the Jonas Brothers, whose demographic is catered to a completely new set of teens, 2NE1 is targeted to the same audience, albeit in what is both elements of current acts and a fostering of a brand new set of principles that will one day signify culture of the 2010’s (see also: Japanese group w-inds.’s “Rain Is Fallin’”).

2NE1’s musical choices have been very smart so far. Though they only have two songs available (and one being a duet), “Fire” itself, is a great single, and even “Lollipop” is ultimately fun and likable. The group as a whole presents an in-your-face attempt at girl power while catering to the youthful fantasy of living beyond one’s age (I’m no native Korean speaker, but the English shouts of “I gotta drop it like it’s hot” are pretty clear). It’s a sort of rebellion to the unsullied Korean pop acts of yore, like Koyote, and even Baby V.O.X., that  already seem kind of trite, though strategically so; there’s a new youth culture on the loose and it begins here.

Ferry Corsten’s “We Belong”

Ferry Corsten / We Belong / May 11, 2009
We Belong

There are some genres that are particularly accessible to sampling; it’s not that you can’t do it with every genre (feasibly, you could), just that some genres have really embraced and excelled at the art. Trance is one of them. While the easy way out for any genre of dance music has been to completely cover tracks (the Rock 2 Dance compilation is a good example: what would a bunch of classic rock songs sound as Cascada-esque club hits?), sampling is a skill involving twice as much dexterity and wit. Since trance works in movements, it’s important to build up smoothly to what will become the iconic riff; this was done perfectly in Mike Mikhajin’s “The Reaper,” a sampling of Blue Oyster Cult’s “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” so subtle, yet so obvious once you heard it, that it found the rare medium between was and wasn’t. Not only did it meld in the sample gracefully, it worked within the genre to create a song so niched, it was unmistakeably trance without bowing to the higher power of rock that would make it just another cover.

Ferry Corsten’s “We Belong,” off of January’s Twice in a Blue Moon, attempts something similar, albeit within a much closer neighborhood. Italo disco, while something of an underground genre in the 80s, has probably subconsciously influenced more pop and dance music than first imagined (this has always been one of my favorite genres to sink into, as it will inevitably creep up somewhere later, reaping marvelous trivia spoils, i.e. 2007’s cover of Sabrina Solerno’s “Boys” on He Jie’s Definitely Not an Angel – an obscure Mandarin singer covering an obscure European club hit and with aplomb). “We Belong” pays homage to Fun Fun’s “Happy Station,” a sort of banal song about special people you can meet at the station (erm, the lyrics are italo’s drawback, always), but where Mikhajin flourishes, Corsten, the sort of godson of trance, falls short once again – the same loop is played over and over again with a new melody and set of lyrics; “Quiet witness to forever / in my silence I keep holding on / I am reaching to forever / and I understand where we belong” isn’t exactly poetic, let alone coherent, but it’s not any worse than the original. The radio edit of the song allows just enough time for the loop to be recognizable and not annoying. As with most Corsten tracks, there’s a certain sort of urgency for naught (see “Fire”), but it also serves a specific emotional function, which it executes.

But knowing it comes from some really odd track by two lip-synching models in 1983 makes it all the more fun.

♫ Official Site
♫ Buy We Belong

Friday night Oricon (May 25, 2009)

An every Friday in a while look at the weekly Oricon Top Twenty Singles Chart.

If I were a Morning Musume fan, I might enjoy the banality of “Shouganai Yume Oibito” (#1), but since I’m not, the appears-approved track of the week is Mika Nakashima’s “Over Load” (#8); not because it’s particularly good, but because my diligent observation of the charts for the past six weeks has indicated how poor songs on the chart actually are; to personally rate a song higher than three on a five scale has become cause for joy. Increasingly, I’m becoming sensitive to rating within context: this song is less bad than that other bad song.

Kaela Kimura and her giant sweater-clad back-up dancers spend their second week in the top twenty with BANZAI (#18), a cute, late 90’s rocker grrrl track. THE ALFEE prove they are (barely) still alive! with single Sakura no Mi no Jukusuru Toki (#6); their appearance on May 8’s Music Station was like a sadly unironic aping of The Darkness (I’m referring to the glass-guitar wielding, pink-bell-bottom wearing, auburn-tressed vocalist) that was equal parts disturbing as it was embarassing. w-inds.’s are #2 with Rain Is Fallin’, a combination of pop, 80’s nostalgia, and Hammer time! fashion. JUJU’s low-key piano duet Ashita ga Kurunara is still in the top ten for the third week (and finally growing on me), which includes a cover of “The Rose.” Other covers include Hyde of L’arc~en~ciel’s side project VAMPS attempting Bowie’s “Life on Mars” on EVANESCENT (#4) and Kiyoharu’s “HELLO, I LOVE YOU” on Kurutta Kajitsu (#10) . All covers are, if not terrible, unnecessary.

Mika Nakashima’s single Over Load is the most entertaining of the singles this week, mostly because it’s surprising; from her role in the feature film Nana, to every pedestrian single she has released since 2001, Nakashima has been the shoulder to cry on when insomnia strikes. On her first number one single she says, “I was really surprised at first, but I assumed that that was the way it is, because I really knew nothing at all.” Which says nothing about anything. Just like this single, that I didn’t instantly hate. Again, I’m learning to judge within the system. It’s not easy.

80kidz’s “This Is My Shit”

80kidz / This Is My Shit / April 15, 2009
02. Go Mynci / 07. She / 12. Frankie

The Japan Times Online said that “the haphazard “Fait la Danse,” which sounds like a poor stab at mid-’90s techno, derails the album’s momentum,” but in fact, the momentum of this album is in jeopardy quite earlier; around track three, actually. While “Go Mynci” leads the listener into a slow, balanced composite of the robots you’ll likely find swirling around on This Is My Shit (a poor title for any album released anytime, anywhere), “Flying Buttress” tries slightly too hard please; in a world of Justices and MSTRKRFTs, all (disc) jockeying to be purveyors of nuevo-electro (you first heard that here, by the way), it’s becoming increasingly important to hone the skills already available to you, for where could electro possibly, really, go next? You could stir in some organic instruments, Auto-Tune the shit out of some vocals, and create some sort of elaborate character for your stage show, but even Daft Punk could show you it’s all about the melody; the same one that will repeat over and over again for at least three minutes of what could quickly become aural laceration in the wrong hands.

An uninspired (lazy) deejay could easily push play on 80kidz and let the audience take care of the rest, but the real standout tracks have a good beat but can’t necessarily be danced to and take a serious listen to mine. “She,” a lovely hybrid of melancholy and amour, is clearly the album’s love song and the addition of a haunting piano and guitar loop make the track really pop, particularly when the album takes a breather to let the piano do its MIDI-inspired solo. The following track, “Miss Mars,” is another song with a slower tempo that gains speed as the track hobbles along, repetitive as any child handed a kazoo. “Yellow Rambler” brings a chunky sound to the album that works to the band’s disadvantage; the track “Disdrive (Rework)” attempts the same formula, but the sheer amount of things happening leads the titular melody to get lost somewhere in all the overcompressed noise. Attempts at hip hop (”Frankie”), where instrumentation is kept simple and more low-key, is where 80kidz really flourish, giving the instrumentation ample space to roam.

For a debut album, This Is My Shit shows more than enough stamina in the world of electro, though its seemingly positive (sixteen whole tracks!) is also a negative (sixteen freaking long tracks). The album would probably have worked best if it was a non-stop mix with each track kept at a bearable level for what eventually accumulates as a lot of key-melody repitition; “Getting You Off” is a great song, but at 5:28, it can lose even its most devoted listener. While 80kidz may not have invented anything new in the genre, they’ve certainly show they’re capable of mimicking the best to their advantage.

♫ Official Site
♫ Buy This Is My Shit

From weak to WTF: a triumvirate of bad choreography

On one hand, I understand the need to take music videos to the next level, to stand out, to be different; the music video has always been a kind of odd creation. Is it advertising? Is it art? Nevertheless, it seems PVs have been increasingly less about promoting artists and more about promoting concepts. But moving from Big Personas to Big Ideas has created some really poor choices, among them setting, effects, and choreography. Notable are the following recent promotional videos for Mitsuki Aira’s “BARBiE BARBiE,” MEG’s “SKIN,” and Chihiro Onitsuka’s “X,” which commit the heinous crime of making you remind yourself that not only is the choreography suspect, it was meant to be like that.

BoA vs. Utada: Graphing the inevitable

This may be the least appropriate way to do this, but it’s also the most satisfying; I could talk for hours about  where  Utada’s (nee Hikaru Utada) second attempt at crossing over failed, but I don’t have much to say about BoA’s  successful English debut. However both deserve to be acknowledged in some capacity: BoA’s, for its simple elegance and Utada’s, for its complete clumsiness.

Cover art: This is kind of a moronic category, but if we still buy into the notion that people judge things by covers (and they do), then Utada’s is likely to turn heads the most, if only because it looks like it was done by a seven year old using an outdated version of Photoshop (don’t forget to bold and italicize the font!). Might as well slap a Bargain Bin sticker on this sleeve already. Utada’s covers have famously hit the snooze on every chance to be  memorable, instead opting for uncomfortably close head shots (see: First Love, Distance, ULTRA BLUE, etc). BoA’s isn’t significantly different; sure, there’s a disembodied hand on the cover with a giant ring in the process of digesting her fingers, but sitting up there next to Utada’s album, it might as well be The Sistine Chapel.

Marketing: I left these both empty, as neither albums received very good marketing, or, I think, any marketing at all. There was a promo video going around for Utada’s album where she talks about being really huge in Japan, but relatively unknown in the U.S. and then she shares a boring anecdote about how someone told her this album was going to be “the one” and she thought it was brilliant that she had already decided on the title of the album as This is the One and how hard she managed to squeeze out a “mainstream sound,” which is ironic only because this is the one that is going to be remembered in Japan as the album that sucked and in America not at all. There’s a similar video where BoA harps on about dreams and learning English and it’s equally lost. The point is: nobody I know who hasn’t been following these two women’s careers already had any idea that these album were going to be released. Which is really sad in BoA’s case, because this album is the one. More on that in a minute.

Mainstream accessibility: For all of Utada’s chatting about managing to write a really mainstream album, its content appeals to zero senses. None of the songs are memorable; I listened to this album once through and had no desire to repeat any of the songs, nor did I understand to which demographic this album was aiming. The attempt to grab everybody’s sensibilities ends in grabbing no body’s sensibilities; this album is neither pop nor rock nor hip hop nor dance. It’s just really dull. BoA’s self-titled album, on the other hand, finds a niche: hip-pop. It sticks to a basic formula of short, quick hits with catchy hooks. This is an album for dancing and there are no ballads, no slow songs, and no attempts to be something it’s not. BoA has always been a product of a recording company and handles management well; Utada seems to have gotten lost in coercions to pen something really MTV-able instead of trusting her high-brow, pop musical instincts that have written such fantastic, friendly singles as Keep Tryin’. Plus BoA dances, speaks a couple of extra languages, and isn’t ashamed of being a creation instead of a creator.

Lyrics: The lyrics on This is the One sound like freshmen college poetry; they’re earnest, but they’re also dense,  prosaic, and in most cases, dubious. In “Apple and Cinnamon,” the song that will be forever remembered for anthropomorphizing spices, she rhymes cinnamon with innocent to describe chemistry in a relationship. Identity becomes confusion in “Come Back to Me,” where she alternately takes on the role of first and third person (”She goes shopping for new clothes / And she buys this / And she buys that”/”I admit I cheated / Don’t know why I did it / But I do regret it”). In “Dirty Desire,” she’s painfully obtuse and even makes lyrics like “Doing my nine to five / I’m thinking six and nine” sound neutered. As in Exodus, she tries to be both intellectual and street smart (”Like Captain Picard / I’m chilling and flossing”), but ends up sounding desperate (”Sexy stiletto boots, tight jeans, no panties on / Oops, did I turn you on?” in “Poppin,’” “I kept on givin’, baby / Because the sex was so good” in “Taking Back My Money”). The lyrics on BoA aren’t any better, but they function in context. The attempt to portray her as an aggressive, liberated 21st century woman usually ends up making her sound like the social networking marketer’s every-girl: she’s confessional (”I Did it for Love”), hyper-sexual (”Eat You Up”/”Touched”), self-involved (”Girls on Top”), and slightly obsessive (”Obsessed”). Oh, and she likes to dance (”Hypnotic Dancefloor”). There’s nothing particularly stimulating or unique about the lyrics, but the sound isn’t built for it; the textbook script works with the textbook plot.

Music: This is the One is an exercise in musical regression. While Utada’s music has successfully obtained art-pop status (quirky, lovable, kinda cute, even kinda serious), This is the One almost triumphantly obliterates her last two Japanese-language releases. “Come Back to Me,” the lead single, is lifeless and its attempt to be heartfelt leaves it as empty as Ghandi’s bar tab. The melodies are simple, resourceful and the instrumentation unnecessarily sparse. On the other hand, BoA’s album is energetic and dynamic. The first single “Eat You Up,” is almost heavy. The choice to include an English version of “Girls on Top,” although not as potent as the original, is still brilliant. The songs are fun and catchy, without taking the conceit too far. The auto-tune could have been used less liberally, but even then, it’s used more for effect than necessity. It is a shame this album hasn’t been promoted properly, as it is the album that would have gone places where Exodus only hypothetically dreamed.

♫ BoA Official Site
♫ Hikaru Utada Official Site

KAT-TUN’s “RESCUE” PV: First single that doesn’t suck

I’ve never really been into KAT-TUN; I listened to Queen of Pirates, but I didn’t get it. Furthermore, I’ve never been into the entire (male or female) idol fixation. I am, however, a sucker for good pop music and KAT-TUN’s newest single is certainly good, if not fantastic. There’s something particularly wonderful about the title track, “RESCUE”: it’s desperate, and hauntingly so. It’s set against a frenetic, fast-paced techno/dance hybrid that increases the sense of urgency; the chorus never really tells us what exactly the boys need rescuing from (”Into place / lost in maze” doesn’t really help, although I guess it explains all the running to nowhere in the video), but the post-pomo atmosphere gives us some idea. Or maybe these dudes just want to phone home.

Apparently, someone got wind about a few of my favorite PVs of all time and now everybody is catching onto the super slow-mo bandwagon. I am, of course, now intrigued.

Ayumi Hamasaki’s “Rule”

Ayumi Hamasaki / Rule / February 25, 2009
01. Rule

It’s hard to write reviews about an artist who has become a brand unto herself; rarely do I think “music” when I first think “Ayumi Hamasaki” any longer. It’s even harder when you’ve been a fan for so long that each subsequent record has been like taking a bullet compared to the early work that had you so enthralled. Regardless, it’s worth saying in a Twitter-length phrase: best Ayumi single in three years. Srsly.

Words like “aggressive” and “massive” are being thrown around to describe the scope of “Rule,” a loud, soaring rock epic that Hamasaki first played around with in 2008’s “Mirrorcle World.” The music video may be a whole other story (same, tired attempts at bombast in camera preening, overstated dance routines, questionable wardrobe), but the song is just as intense as the movie it’s promoting needs it to be. “Sparkle,” however, is the darling of the single; a  haunting, electrock melody the likes of which Hamasaki has never experimented with before is kind of a mindfuck the first time it plays, but its novelty only gains momentum, neutralizing the awful lyrics (”Don’t be on the defensive / Try to make yourself look aggressive and attractive“). It’s eerie, but strangely joyful; the only thing missing from its liner notes is a HAL credit (who coincidently, is credited on “Rule”).

In a throwback to earlier singles, a few remixes are thrown among the three versions available. The only contention I have is with “Days (8-bits of tears YMCK remix),” which is exactly what it sounds like: an 8-bit version of the ballad “Days” that is tolerable for about :50 seconds before irritation sets in. The other remixes are enjoyable, club versions of her previous single, and the acoustic versions are pleasant, welcoming shout outs to the popularity of the full-length acoustic orchestra version compilations Hamasaki released at the height of her fame. While her popularity may not be so high any longer and she hasn’t exactly gone anywhere (actually, each mediocre release has been just as in your face as ever before), this single features an artist itching for a comeback, or, wait for it, taking things to the next level.

♫ Official Site
♫ Buy Rule

Maki Goto’s “Fly away” and BoA’s “Eien”

Maki Goto – Fly away / BoA – Eien

These are the coolest pop videos and songs I have seen and heard so far this year. “Fly away” is dynamic, with teeth, and even though the music video is not really edgy and it’s not even all that entertaining (no story line, no discernible context for the lyrics), it’s this conventionality that works in favor of, rather than against, the music. In a time when experimental drivel like MEG’S FREAK is coming out (and OK, I acknowledge and applaud the hypothesis, but I reject its aural conclusion), it’s the simple songs that seem most stimulating; “Fly away” and “Eien” use technology that compliments the genre, rather than bastardizes it.

In fact, “Eien” is almost quaint: boy meets girl, girl falls in love, boy shares text messages, boy breaks up with girl, girl cries. The sound comes from mid-90’s era R&B and the music video is much like Maki Goto’s: amazing, entertaining dance routines, set amid some useless shots of a somewhat, to not at all related backstory. BoA looks androgynous and pulls it off beautifully and even though the dancing is kind of a Michael Jackson rip-off, what isn’t? Plus, it lets BoA show off the extent of her skills. Now there are some major gender issues that make these music videos a tad repulsive (there’s the obviousness of Maki Goto, squirming around blindfolded on a bed, following by high-heeled thrusting, but then there’s the suited, crop-haired BoA, who makes this masculine image appealing only because despite the attempt, BoA is still portrayed as so goddamn feminine, it’s regressed to an almost condescending “cute” status), but they’re still entirely enjoyable as a whole; there’s real talent here, despite how the marketers are selling it.