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| Kahimi Karie - Nunki |
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your average western record geek about Kahimi Karie, and you'll most
likely hear about two men: Momus and Cornelius. In her early career,
Momus wrote quite a few of her signature songs, such as "I Am A
Kitten," "Lolitapop Dollhouse," "Pygmalism," and more. Cornelius, aside
from being her significant other at the time, kick started her career
on his label Trattoria. Since her best known period (in the West, anyway,) she's gone on to create some of the most challenging, odd, and impressive music in the Japanese music scene. Her eighth album, "Nunki," is simultaneously inviting and challenging, an hour long lullaby that ranges from the gently traditional to the inaccessibly abstract. It's well worth the effort, but Karie doesn't make it easy. "呼続" (Yobitsugi) starts things off with a minimalist, high pitched wheeze as her trademark breathy vocals absently hum along. It sounds like she's falling asleep in the sun (this is a bit ironic, as water is all over "Nunki:" "All Is Splashing Now," "I'm In The Rain," the recurring theme of sailing and sailors...even the booklet has closeup shots of dew on a cobweb.) At times, the album threatens to disappear completely. "そのほかに" ("The Other") is a gentle, sparse rumination that never rises above a murmur, and is immediately followed by the even more abstract "太陽と月" ("The Sun And Moon.") The latter track consists entirely of Karie whispering about the differences between the two orbs as Otomo Yoshihide's hushed guitar occasionally punctuates Akira Sotoyama's rock-and-bamboo percussion. It's beautiful...eventually: the approach is so gentle, so undemanding, that it can take several closely attentive plays before the listener detects anything happening at all. Karie wakes up a bit with "Mirage," a more traditionally structured piano and percussion track. The return to Earth lasts for exactly one song: next up is "Camelia," a gorgeously abstract nothing of a song. Nothing rises above a whisper, and Karie's hushed vocals don't stay in one language for very long (she goes through English, Chinese, French, and Japanese, in case you're wondering.) It's bliss incarnate: structureless, stressless, a total relinquishing of anything even remotely resembling aggression. It's so wispy that the next track, the typically sleepy "Plastic Bag," feels almost like an intrusion. The sun's gotta come up some time, and "You Are Here For A Light" doesn't need the title to convey that it's time to wake up. Everything about it is uplifting, refreshing. It's got album closer written all over it, so it's a bit striking to hear "歩きつづけて" ("Keep Walking") follow. You've had your rest, it's time to start the day. "Nunki" is relaxing, but it's not easy. Karie (along with collaborating songwriters Yann Tomita, Otomo Yoshihide and Jim O'Rourke) pushes the boundaries of hushed composition, daring to go places that will quickly lose the impatient listener. Stay after it: music this delicate takes time to sink in, and when it does, it's unparalleled in its peacefulness. An incredible album. |