Krautrock
hit some people hard. In the late 90s, after Julian Cope's
Krautrocksampler made early 70s German rock semi-common knowledge,
everyone and their brother was name dropping Can, Amon Düül, and
Kraftwerk. The especially savvy would bring up Neu!, not just because
their albums were the most difficult to get your hands on (thereby
ensuring maximum cred,) but because, of all the newly hip Teutonic
oldsters, they had the most distinctive sound. Some of the more
adventurous artists tried some Neu! on for size, which was not as easy
as simply aping one or two nifty little sounds: Neu! were as
straightforward as they were unusual, relying mainly on a monotone
throb that lasted as long as the grooves would allow. The simple stuff
is often the most difficult to do correctly, and of all the assorted
groups that tried to integrate that driving pulse, OOIOO was one of the
most successful.
In fact, this side project of Boredoms drummer Yoshimi P-We utilizes
simple rhythmic throbs with such flexibility and unselfconsciousness
that it seems a bit churlish to bring up Neu! at all. Whereas monotony
was the key behind the German group, "Feather Float" is so varied and
multi hued that it's easy to miss that repetition is the music's
backbone. Percussive layer upon percussive layer swell up from the main
beat, coloring and shifting reality until some ecstatic peak or another
breaks the trance.
The album ostensibly has eleven tracks, and once it all sinks in it is
indeed apparent that there's a different approach somewhere inside
each, but "Feather Float" is really one long song. Putting this on an
iPod to be played at random would be an exercise in futility, as the
transitions between songs are as vital as the songs themselves, often
coming off as simply a new wrinkle in the current song rather than an
introduction. It's a nifty trick that adds immeasurably to the
relentless forward momentum, almost as if it's a dance mix put together
by a particularly resourceful DJ. Because of this, it's a brilliant
workout album, brief breath-catching lulls in the mix notwithstanding.
The ultra colorful, energetically fragmented cover isn't just
decoration: rhythmic insistence aside, the sonic palate of the album is
similarly compelling. Occasionally manic, silly, or unironically
beautiful, it's easy to get lost in the basic sound of the thing, which
can combine soft chants, aggressive, bizarre electronic spasms,
funk bass, jew's harp and psychedelic guitar all at once (on "Baby
Bamboo From Nose,") yet still come off as completely natural. "Ah!
Yeah" sounds like a Brazilian tribe trapped in a UFO with cheery
plucked guitars, frantic bongos, squishy electronics and P-We's
triumphant shout: "Everybody Trance Now!" Then immediately into the
nocturnal sprint of "Switch On," which finds the ever present pulse
going underground to get ready for another shot at the sky. It's the
rare album that's undiluted energy, yet rewards contemplative
listening. There's just too much going on.
One point that bears mentioning is that "Feather Float" came out one
year before The Boredoms' masterpiece, "Vision Creation Newsun," and
bears no small resemblance to it. The Boredoms are often thought of as
Yamantaka eYe's baby, and while it would be silly to suggest he's not
the leading force, "Feather Float" can comfortably be thought of as
VCN's loopier, more schizophrenic twin, an album that shares an almost
identical uplift even as it goes into some very different directions.
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