#all i missed 2022

[luuurien]

Hitsujibungaku - our hope

(Indie Rock, Dream Pop, Shoegaze)

Heading down a more introspective and slow-paced road after 2020’s driving and intense POWERS, our hope sees the Japanese rock trio at their most subdued and blurry-eyed place to date. Though these songs take longer to settle, the impact of Hitsujibungaku’s sensitive dream pop has only grown exponentially.

☆☆☆☆½

There are quite a few things that separate Hitsujibungaku from many of their dream pop peers, but the biggest one is patience. Where much of the genre prides itself on immediately sweeping you up with goopy synth pads and guitars slathered in any and every effect pedal the band could get their hands on, Hitsujibungaku opts for a kind of slowness and contemplation more in line with sensitive indie rock or even dramatic post-rock at times, willing to evoke only the outlines of an atmosphere and what might lie inside it. That fogginess is what drives their latest release, our hope to such immense success, heading down a more introspective and slow-paced road after 2020’s driving and intense POWERS, searching for a sense of clarity through the blur of lurching, distorted guitars and the occasional intoxicating pop song everything Hitsujibungaku needs to make our hope their most heartfelt and well-rounded album to date despite the challenges making a dream pop album so vulnerable and unvarnished presents for them. our hope is Hitsujibungaku taking shoegaze and dream pop fundamentals and pointing them inwards, hints of dissonance and tension taking the band to new heights and revealing new skills for them as a trio. The tempos are slower and the compositions less dense, but our hope still has lots going on inside its patient dream pop tunes. hopi find itself in a tender 6/8 waltz driven by a hypnotic guitar lead and Moeka Shiotsuka’s reserved vocals, blooming in the chorus before slowly sliding back into the soft, intimate cove of the verses, but even bulkier highlights like パーティーはすぐそこ and ワンダー have a ring of fog surrounding them, clean but slightly overdriven guitars covering Shiotsuka’s reminisces on old memories and past loves in a perfectly fitting haze. Where POWERS’ euphoria occasionally took on a noise pop sensibility with fuzzier guitars and more explosive crescendos to contrast Shiotsuka’s restrained performances, our hope opts for a more homogeneous atmosphere, the driving chorus of 光るとき revealing itself behind each steady verse while unhurried highlights like 金色 and 予感 revel in their midtempo grooves and liquid guitars, our hope navigating less concrete roads than Hitsujibungaku’s previous projects but hitting all the same dopamine reserves. It can take time to acclimate to the mellow, often understated nature of these songs (in one case, くだらない, it even causes the band’s light to dim a considerable amount), our hope’s transition to softspoken indie rock never takes away the instrumental strength Histujibungaku’s music flourishes from. our hope also brings along with it a darkness Hitsujibungaku’s music usually only speaks of, injecting into the sound of their music and embracing bits of harmonic tension and textural coldness to match the album’s themes of faded love and the bleakness of the present without that romance. 金色’s gangly guitar leads sit loosely under a perfectly drowsy vocal performance and a sharp chromatic descend in the post-chorus, and even the sweeter back-end highlight OOPARTS pairs its muted synthpop verses with bursts of noisy guitar and a key change in the song’s second half, Hitsujibungaku holding onto their signature beauty but reconfiguring the ways they go about bringing it to life. In turn, the album is a bit of a slow ride overall - especially considering its near hour runtime - but our hope clearly isn’t aiming for an all-thrills experience, and the unhurried nature of the album brings out some of the warmest and most definitive tracks the band has put out yet. It’s different, but it’s always a joy. More restrained but just as impactful than anything they’ve done so far, our hope paints a delicate, gauzy picture of Hitsujibungaku exploring the sensitive outer edges of their sharp but colorful indie rock through the extra space afforded by slowing down and letting the music breathe at its own pace. The reward of listening to our hope is getting a deeper look into the trio as instrumentalists, how Yurika Kasai’s bass drifts in and out of sync with Shiotsuka’s guitar work and how vital a dynamic drummer like Hiroa Fudaka is to the band’s sound, the three of them as adept at bubblegum noise pop as they are gentle moments of lyrical intimacy and musical warmth. It’s not their most exciting album, but by the end of its divine hour, our hope ends up the most heartwarming and grounded release of theirs yet and further proof of their excellence within modern indie.

This review is part of the ALL I MISSED: 2022, where I review all the albums I didn't get to from last year.

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[kokorozasumono]

[ef-1]

Everyone moved on but I stayed there

[almond-gallery]

extremely late barricade day post. barricade month

[tundraghost]

Sheepish dogs

[sillyppi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO #1 PRINCESS OF THE UNIVERSE !!!!

also gave her the flowers because over here's the first day of spring so there's this little cute thing about gifting yellow flowers to people we love (gracias floricienta)

[almondscroissant]

and why'd this scene go so hard

[skunkes]

[jjoneechan]

Happy two years to #hishair

2022 vs 2024 redraw

miss him lots

[glittergoats]

something old, something new

[luuurien]

Tokyo Shoegazer - Moonworld Playground

(Shoegaze, Dream Pop, Post-Rock)

Some of the most lush and deafening shoegaze in recent years, Tokyo Shoegazer’s second album melds slow post-rock builds and a noise rock sense of weightiness with soft dream pop guitars and Rie Funakoshi’s sweetly sung vocals. Contrast is Moonworld Playground’s defining feature, but feeling the band’s full energy rush past you is nothing short of exhilarating.

☆☆☆☆½

Moonworld Playground was destroyed and recreated during the intense pandemic lockdowns in Japan, but it’s through the album's revitalization that Tokyo Shoegazer makes such an impact. An exciting name in the Japanese underground since their darling 2011 release Crystallize, the band’s mix of shoegaze fundamentals with the acidic edge of noise rock and post-rock’s gradual builds emphasized not only how varied their sound could be, but just how big they could be, too - few other shoegaze albums throughout the 2010s dared to be so ferocious and barbed in their use of distortion petals and endless reverb. In turn, Moonworld Playground keeps that biting edge at the core of its sound while extending their palette with moments of genuine elegance and softness, both their heaviest and loveliest set of songs yet that establish them as an essential name in this decade’s shoegaze scene. They know how to balance roaring tides with the sunshine that illuminates them, and that attention to detail brings Moonworld Playground’s every moment to success. Mixed by Yoshiaki Kondo of rock experimentalists Ground Zero fame and mastered by Dave Cooley, work whose credits range from Madvillainy’s swirling jazz rap to the hypnotic shoegaze of DIIV, Moonworld Playground hits that sweet spot between overbearing loudness and an intense yet approachable widescreen feel. Felicette and Silence kick things off pretty slow with the former’s six minutes of noisy ambiance and the latter’s minuscule opening half before erupting with ghastly guitars and Rie Funakoshi’s soaring vocals, but from there the album heads straight into fast-paced indie rock rowdiness: The Dreamer prickly guitar leads contrast against a dark bassline and blanketing distortion; Moondive assaults the senses with rumbling guitars and noisy percussion; album highlight Paradise reaches a stunning level of tropical lushness with its warm backing guitars and glowing melody. Loudness is an inherent feature of Moonworld Playground, but Tokyo Shoegazer along with Kondo and Cooley’s excellent handling of that loudness ensures Moonworld Playground is a thickly layered and richly detailed listen. When the baggy-influenced drumming sneaks its way into Constellations or Lucid leans into the ambient stylings of the opener with chiming bells and tender singing from Funakoshi, it’s not only a way for them to bring variation to Moonworld Playground but to give the album a sense of scope most shoegaze albums tend to ignore, Tokyo Shoegazer offering a handful of fantastic sounds rather than only a single one. The pandemic’s effects on the band also reveal themselves in how hearty and energetic an album Moonworld Playground is, Tokyo Shoegazer able to play with one another again and harnessing the power that in itself holds. Paradise and Constellations alone send the band on their liveliest expeditions yet, roaring guitars slammed against Hiroshi Sasbuchi’s drumming with a sense of urgency only ever brought on by the excitement of getting to make music with others again. Tokyo Shoegazer’s music relies on its power to bring the band’s ideas to life, but there’s a rejuvenation to their chemistry as a group you can tangibly hear in The Dreamer’s sunny guitar loops or the slow sunset of Tokyo Neon Lights accentuated with a buzzy bassline from Taizo Nakamura, the band sitting around the same table but putting incredible detail and lavishly treating each of Moonworld Playground’s nine songs - it’s shockingly stately for an album with this much noise holding it all together. There are few moments of softness within Moonworld Playground, but it’s seeing those vulnerable corners of the band fully exposed that allow Tokyo Shoegazer to build their wildest worlds from. All in all, Moonworld Playground is just a really good shoegaze album. The songs are huge, each song unique, and the inventiveness in its use of different indie rock styles along the way make Tokyo Shoegazer’s reintroduction to the world a near spotless one, reviving the energy that made their debut more than a decade ago so compelling while building upon it with new ideas and the spark of energy many artists felt when the opportunity to perform with others again opened itself up. The true power of Moonworld Playground, though, is simply the fact that it hits hard and never ceases to inspire with its creative and exuberant take on the bittersweet shoegaze sound they brought to life more than a decade ago.

This review is part of the ALL I MISSED: 2022, where I review all the albums I didn't get to from last year.

[leqclerc]

I think everything that could be said has already been said regarding Charles’s Monaco win. But I’m just… Wow. It’s so surreal.

Having followed him for several years now, witnessing the hope and subsequent disappointment as yet another chance to win his home race slips away… The heartbreak and helplessness of 2021 and the anger and frustration of 2022… It’s Charles’s dream fulfilled and Charles’s accomplishment but I feel like it’s personal for so many of us who’ve endured all of those emotional rollercoasters and setbacks along with him, invested in his quest to reach for something he yearned for so deeply. We’re all sharing in it now, Charles’s emotions a reflection of our own; disappointments into delights.

The funny thing is, I was completely calm once he secured pole on Saturday, in a way I rarely am, especially when it comes to racing. It’s hard to describe but it was just this serenity, this gut feeling that today is the day, and that there won’t be any more upsetting surprises. That this is the weekend where that chapter of the “curse” ends, where history is made, that this is where the path was leading all along.

It wasn’t really until Charles crossed the finish line, until that team radio, that inflection in his voice, the way he evidently teared up, the way he ran into his team’s waiting embrace and the way he spoke about his father that it hit me, the emotions, the sheer magnitude of the feat – so straightforward at first glance but heavy with the weight of expectation, longing, past disappointment. The palpable relief on the podium, the way he could finally close his eyes and just drink it all in. Maybe it played out exactly the way he had imagined all that time, maybe it was different, maybe it was better. But it was, in some way, fated.

[miketownsends]

06.28.24 | SEA vs MIN | "always a good night when the Astros lose, right?"

[yasyassie]

just finished willow... how do i get over the existential void?

[astarlightmonbebe]

the appeal of yeojeong as a normal guy who’s just a little bit off. not enough that you would notice when talking to him, of course, but it’s just there, under the surface. a disturbance. and i think it’s interesting because typically you have two types of guys somewhat adjacent to this: guy who seems totally normal but is secretly sadistic/a psychopath, and then guy haunted by a traumatic/troubled past, who has that secret layer of torment running beneath the surface of their image. but yeojeong breaks through these archetypes, and i think part of it is because he’s just so...calm. it’s not that he’s living a double life (kind doctor by day, killer by night) or hiding part of his past (everyone he worked with knew about what happened to his father, and watched his downward spiral during his college days). he’s not the typical male character who is, at every attempt, trying to outrun his tragic past (even though he does run once or twice); he’s not haunted by flashbacks, or suffer from PTSD in the way that is usually portrayed in dramas. and i think part of that is because the glory is a story about victims. it’s dongeun’s story, first and foremost, even though it is also yeojeong’s story, and hyeonnam’s story, and sohee’s story. but it’s a story about dongeun’s pain, and when it’s not about her pain, it’s just about the pain of victimhood - unlike other dramas, this isn’t a show where male pain outweighs the rest.

so yeojeong is just a normal guy. he’s handsome. he has a good career. he’s a plastic surgeon, an interesting choice when both his parents were/are hospital directors, and his father seemed to have worked in the er or something of the sort prior to his death (or at the very least wasn’t a plastic surgeon). something could be said here of yeojeong choosing the ‘safe’ path as a doctor, a path where he cures pain and makes people happy without the added risk of being attacked by one of his patients. there’s no proof of that in the show - why he chose to be a plastic surgeon - but it’s an interesting thought path to travel. 

dongeun says he must have lived a good life. that he’s never had to worry about the path that he’s on. and that’s true, to a certain extent. to everyone, including her in the beginning, yeojeong is perfectly friendly. he’s perfect, but not the perfect that people perceive as too perfect (i.e. the guy who’s hiding things); he has his moments where he spazzes out, gets into fights, goes crazy over dongeun texting him back, teases his mom. he’s perfectly well adjusted (a perfect contrast to dongeun’s ‘maladjustment’). he wears flip flops to work and gets the same coffee order daily. he plays go with old men in the park.

he likes to listen to the fizzing of vitamin tablets in water because it calms him down. is this a strange thing? only because he thinks it’s important enough to mention to his therapist. he does it at work too - drops the tablet in, closes his eyes, rests his head. he does it at home - drops the tablet in, opens the drawer, draws a knife. it’s about the noise. bubbles rising to the surface, like bubbles rising from underwater. he stays underwater until the last possible moment, when he has to break the surface in order to breath. dongeun makes him feel like he’s at the eye of a storm - a deceptively calm center, while everything else rages outside. and i think it’s kind of important that he makes that comparison, when he’s someone always seeking that calm. the soothing noise, that makes him feel lonely.

so he’s just a normal guy. a normal guy who receives letters on a regular basis from the prisoner who brutally murdered his father. he doesn’t like letters, he tells dongeun. who knows what he does with the letters - does he keep them? does he throw them away as soon as he sees them? he must have read some of them; maybe you only need to read one to know what is in the rest. maybe he’s still reading them; maybe he keeps them without reading, an invisible torment. it’s not what he does with the letters that matters, but that he receives letters at all. 

can you still call it a haunting if you’ve almost made your peace with it? if you’re living with it? 

he’s just a normal guy, who looks his therapist right in the eyes and tells her that she couldn’t fix him. he diligently attends therapy for years on a regular basis, even though it doesn’t work. he finally abandons it when he moves to semyeong, because he chooses to embrace dongeun’s revenge. he chooses his own revenge, too, in a way. the dark part of him that he can’t escape. the one that makes him pick up the knife, who asks dongeun who to kill before she even tells him she wants any of them dead, even when he’s a doctor from a family of doctors, and doctors don’t kill - they save lives instead. 

you couldn’t fix me, he tells his therapist calmly. so calmly. as if there’s not a bloodied man sitting next to him, a man he dreams of killing. the man is just life to him, just like the letters are life to him to. a dulled numbness. an acceptance of it. 

is your son going through hell? can you even tell it’s hell, if it’s what you’ve become used to? is it hell when you’re a doctor dreaming of murder? is it hell to no longer be tormented by dead men and living murderers who send you letters? is it?