Available at Amazon Japan
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"A・X・I・A"
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Original Mohaya Kore Made cover
Original War War War cover
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"A・X・I・A"
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Original Mohaya Kore Made cover
Original War War War cover
| Papaya Paranoia - Mohaya Kore Made/War War War |
| We've
complained before about a hole in available late 80s/early 90s
material, an unfortunate situation which seems to be the result of the
time period in question being too young for nostalgic reissues, but too
old for much of the less (financially) successful efforts to still be
in print. Rosa Luxemburg is one example of a legendary band who rarely
darken the shelves of Tokyo's (shrinking, but still numerous) record
stores; Papaya Paranoia is another. We successfully tracked down main
Papaya Yumiko Ishijima, but finding the woman herself has proven to be
easier than finding her pre-90s work. Fortunately, the band's first two
albums, Mohaya Kore Made and War War War, have finally been reissued as
one double disc package. Taken together, they're a revelation, a wealth
of bizarre, spastic 80s pop at its most over excited and fried. The all female Papaya Paranoia's approach to the often caustic, but ultimately liberating energy of New Wave stands in stark contrast to the confrontational deconstructions of other female New Wave icons, like The Slits, or Lydia Lunch. Ishijima consciously chose to embrace traditional femininity (and by traditional, I mean traditional: Mohaya Kore Made sees the four piece in kimonos.) In her acceptance of the constraints of standard expectations concerning appearance, she consumed them, resulting in a mind bending disconnect between the flashy, mainstream cuteness of the members and the jagged, utterly warped, and thoroughly unladylike sounds they made. The importance of that particular decision shouldn't be overstated, as what ultimately made Papaya Paranoia so compelling was their musical dynamism. We reviewed Mohaya Kore Made (i.e. We've Had Enough) previously, and yeah, it's still pretty damned out there; the steely, arrogant guitar bomb that opens "ゴーゴンズ" ("Gorgons") still draws blood, and Ishijima's powerful but aggressively off kilter vocals are still remarkable, taking the atonal warble of early Siouxsie Sioux and somehow making it sound technically accomplished and from-the-gut powerful. The snotty grit of "Gorgons" is abandoned immediately, going straight into "夏が終わる" ("Natsu Ga Owaru," i.e. "The End Of Summer,") an ambient, chilly drift. The ideas are all over the place; "鬼の好物アニマルプリント", ("Oni No Koubutsu Animal Print," i.e. "The Demon's Favorite Animal Print") is like a Girl Scout meeting gone horribly wrong, "わがままな肉食" ("Wagamama Na Nikushoku," i.e. "Selfish Predator") is a funhouse crawl, and "貴婦人の散歩" ("Kifujin No Sanpo," i.e. "A Walking Lady") sounds like Lene Lovich and Klaus Nomi had a particularly hyperactive baby. The musicianship in general is top notch, but special mention should be made of guitarist Maki, who takes 80s glam metal chops and makes them actually sound as utterly filthy and completely debased as the poodle metal guys thought they were (wisely, she's mixed way, way up front, which just emphasizes how in your face her playing really is.) Similarly, the dual keyboards of Mieya and Harry (just first names here) make no attempt to color the background, instead charging forward and splattering everything with gleefully obnoxious blurts of noise that nonetheless retain their tunefulness. The incessant gear shifts can make Mohaya Kore Made feel schizophrenic, but the ideas are fleshed out well enough that it's difficult to fault the band for their ambition. Still, there are times it can seem a bit too much; it's difficult to tell what, exactly, holds Mohaya Kore Made together, but whatever it is, it's hanging on by its fingernails. War War War, the followup, balances the carnival smirk and heavy rock punch in a considerably more coherent package. The album saw the addition of second guitarist Miho, and the extra heft makes the title track hit like a ton of bricks, taking the paranoid, flattened funk of Flipper and loading it up with heavy metal chug and corrosive keyboards that sound like the most malignant funhouse ever. The one-two punch of "A・X・I・A" and "踊らにゃソン!" ("Odoranya Song") take punk pogo and paint a nightmarish clown smile on its evil, sweaty face. "20世紀の子供達" (Niju Seki No Kodomotachi," i.e. "Children Of The 20th Century") is Oingo Boingo with less Louis Prima, more crystal meth. The meatier rock punch easily compensates for the reduced dynamics, but while War War War is less sprawling, it's still got quite a bit of space between its extremes. The neon Laurie Anderson glow of "Swimming In The Pool" and the psychedelic lullaby of "太古のエメラルド" ("Taiko No Emerald", i.e. "Ancient Emerald") fit in, rather than willfully disrupt, the album's flow. That said, it's difficult to proclaim War War War superior to Moyaha Kore Made; better to say it's more focused, and leave it at that. This package adds eleven bonus tracks, all culled from singles and one offs from the period. Wisely, they're mostly appended to the Moyaha Kore Made disc, letting War War War mostly stand on its own. Papaya Paranoia's early appeal, atonal as it could be, was still ultimately a pop based aesthetic, which means that these individual tracks don't come off as afterthoughts; each works as its own self contained idea. Even with two demos, none of the extras feel slight or unnecessary; the (relatively) restrained "眠れない夜のために" ("Nemurenai Yoru No Tame Ni," i.e. "For A Sleepless Night) in particular is a tasty blend of relaxed verses, wired choruses, and dreamy asides. In this period, Papaya Paranoia put out one more EP (Lunatic) and started getting major label attention. Unfortunately, the bright lights scared off everyone but Ishijima, resulting her one solo album (Babuhaja) and no new Papaya Paranoia material until 1997's Vanilla Moon. It would have been nice to see Lunatic on here; it would have made this issue a complete picture of the band in its first, most manic incarnation (although in all fairness, the disc is subtitled "The Captain Years," and Captain Records didn't do Lunatic.) But complete or no, these two discs make a strong argument for Papaya Paranoia being one of the great lost (to the West) bands of the 80s. |