 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.
---
Available at Amazon Japan
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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