| Papaya Paranoia - Mohaya Kore Made |
| Man,
there is SO MUCH of this stuff. I've been on this quest to unearth
Japanese rock history for English speakers for a couple of years now,
and despite literally hundreds of CD, bands, and shows, there are still
unexplored pockets of music that I manage to miss. Not just
obscurities, either: I'm talking major label bands that, despite being
major label bands, have a serious edge to them, one which makes me
think "yeah, people need to know about this." Which brings me to Papaya Paranoia. A quartet of punk/new wave minded women who rose from the ashes of a group called Neko Odori, they released their full length debut, "Mohaya Kore Made," (which translates roughly to "We've Had Enough") in late 1985. While the similarity shouldn't be oversold, there's more than a hint of the same dynamic arrogance that made The Slits' "Cut" such a wonder: catchy slivers of tunefulness in the midst of middle-finger-in-the-air snottiness, girl-chorus shouts, and a clear eyed fearlessness. But where the Slits were amateur players with major ideas rooted in dub reggae and political rhetoric, Papaya Paranoia are professionals with major ideas are rooted in God Knows What. This is illustrated rather forcefully with the opening one two punch of "ゴーゴンズ" ("Gogonzu") and it's polar opposite, "夏が終わる" ("Summer Ends.") "Gogonzu" is thrilling, full of itself, and more than a little abrasive: Andy Gill-esque guitar (think "Anthrax") gives way to, of all things, a chugging metal riff that tries its best to sound poppy. Then Yumiko Ishijima rips in with her Johnny Rotten meets Jello Biafra vocal attack, and the guitars improbably start shredding. Following up an opener this bracing with a track as somnambulist, creepy, dirgelike and abstract as "Summer Ends" isn't just a stylistic shift, it's a gauntlet. Pop centered as the album often is, "Mohaya Kore Made" isn't easy. The genre (or whatever) hopping is one of "Mohaya Kore Made's" most endearing traits. "鬼の好物アニマルプリント" ("The Demon's Favorite Animal Print"...seriously, that's what it's called) is a glorious mess, comprised of all four women shouting along to joyously inept stabs of piano. It sounds like a gang of female street toughs took over a high school music class. "ダンスがスンダ" ("Dance Of Thunder") is like PIL at their most arrogantly dancable as a vicious guitar divebombs across the speakers, by turns both hamfistedly noisy and technically accomplished. The title track is a thrashy scrawl, or at least it starts out that way, quickly morphing into a sinister punk/funk grind, like The Pop Group trying to pass as, well, a pop group. Guitarist Ruka is an absolute beast, destroying everything in her path with lightning fast solos that draw blood as much as they impress technically (check out her scenery chewing take in the Jun Togawa meets "Grease" pop perversion of "あなたに会いたい," i.e. "I Miss You.") This came out in 1985, and it's proof positive that the dark, post-punk obsession that resulted in the first, abrasive thrust of New Wave in the UK was echoed in the Land of the Rising Sun. Comparisons can be made, of course: the tough, spastic guitar and weirdly upbeat keyboards of "リンス" ("Rinse") could fit comfortably in the middle of Magazine's "Secondhand Daylight," "わがままな肉食" ("The Selfish Carnivore") splits the difference between Magazine and Nick Cave's "The Carny." But these comparisons miss the point. The impressive thing about Papaya Paranoia is not their contemporaneous usage of darker, more jagged elements in their post-punk pop, but the fact that they take everything and the kitchen sink and somehow make it cohere. It's a stunning debut, and yet another tip of the Japanese rock iceberg. |