Available at Amazon Japan
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Note: the hiragana of the title ("ニカセトラ") is technically read as "Ni-ka-se-TO-ra." However, the title is intended as a shortening of the words "Nikaido Etcetera," so "Nikacetera" is the used in the romanji spelling.
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Note: the hiragana of the title ("ニカセトラ") is technically read as "Ni-ka-se-TO-ra." However, the title is intended as a shortening of the words "Nikaido Etcetera," so "Nikacetera" is the used in the romanji spelling.
| Kazumi Nikaido - Nikacetera |
| Simplicity
is difficult to do well. A massive, complex orchestra will never be
less that massive and complex, which will make it interesting, at least
for a little while. However, one voice, one guitar is much, much more
susceptible to boredom: there's really only one, maybe two things going
on, and your diversions are limited if any of those elements are sub
par. Kazumi Nikaido doesn't restrict herself to that extreme, but "Nikacetera" is a much simpler, more back to basics work than her last full length release, "The Kazumi Nikaido Album" ("Humming Switch," released between these two, is an EP.) Even "The Kazumi Nikaido Album" was often quite spare, but there was also the warped, energetic caterwaul of "Today's Question, Part Two" and "Even Though I Can't," not to mention the pure WTF of "Cute Air." "Nikacetera" is a much less extroverted business, falling back onto folk forms and moods, and thereby runs the risk of bland monotony that often hurts spare, simple music. There has to be something in there to keep the wheels turning, be it sound, songwriting, or persona. Nikaido has all three, but it's the persona that carries the day. Her perhaps-a-bit-loopy personality gives the lighter than air compositions an undercurrent of quirkiness that, subtle as it may be, makes all the difference. Where key tracks waved the weird in your face on her previous album, "Nikacetera" has only "夏のお嬢さん" ("Miss Summer,") a wobbly but enthusiastic tune that starts off innocently enough. Upbeat vocals spill over into shouted, scatlike singing, then finally break down into Nikaido babbling "I scream / you cream / I scream / you scream" like a little kid that's making it up as she goes along. "Miss Summer" sounds like it was recorded in the kitchen on a portable tape deck, in sharp contrast to the warm sound of the majority of the album. "蘇州夜曲" ("Song For Suzoh At Night") is a close, intimate rumination that opens, gorgeously, into a sensual alcove of Oriental strings and heavenly echo. It sounds a bit like Simon and Garfunkel's "El Condor Pasa," but with a lighter, more otherworldly touch. "雪の降る街を" ("The City Of Snow") follows a similar trajectory, starting off close and intimate, then opening up for an all too brief, widescreen finish. Then there's "赤とんぼ" ("Red Dragonfly") to consider. While not as goofily strange as some of her past work, it's still pretty odd, consisting as it does of little more than Nikaido humming to herself as she walks in the park. It's not a song so much as a sound clip, three minutes of a young woman absentmindedly singing during a midday stroll. By the end, she's quite a distance from the mic, her voice overwhelmed by the gentle sound of birds and a light breeze. It's the clearest example of the light subversion that typifies the album as a whole: nothing that draws too much attention to itself, but nonetheless shows a singularly odd mind at work. Nikaido has been compared to Björk, which (here, at least) is misleading, even as it contains a small grain of truth. Nikaido is not nearly as aggressive in her experimentation, using her skewed sensibility as subtle flavoring for her traditionally minded songs, in sharp contrast to the "how far out there can we take it" envelope pushing of her Icelandic counterpart. But it's not a comparison that's totally without merit: both artists inhabit their own, weird world, giving even the simplest of sounds added weight and atmosphere. It's easier to see in "The Kazumi Nikaido Album," and the vastly more pared down aesthetic of "Nikacetera" can, at times, allow the bare bones music wander a bit too close to coffeehouse fodder. Like many gentle, mood based albums, plopping "Nikacetera" in the shuffle queue can destroy what's unique about it. The songs need each other, which is a weakness in a crowd, but a quietly beautiful strength when played as intended. It's beauty has to grow on you, but give it a chance, and that's exactly what it will do. |