玉姫様

Comparisons are always reductive. At Jrawk, we tend to shy away from phrases like "The Japanese ___." One, it reinforces the irritating stereotype that non-English speaking countries just copy English speaking artists. Two, it inevitably sets the listener up for elements of the known artist that might not appear in the unknown artist.

Case in point: Jun Togawa, in some fairly significant ways, could be called (sorry) a Japanese Kate Bush. Both women started their careers very young, draw large degrees of inspiration from their country's historical culture, have made great use of experimentation within pop forms, occasionally feature a strong theatrical bent, and often come off as quite, uh, eccentric.

All those are important points, and all are necessary to fully appreciate where they're both coming from. But the comparison falls flat in one vitally important way: they don't actually SOUND anything like each other. Togawa is much more aggressive, more deeply rooted in twisted, paranoid new wave, and more, well...eccentric.

Togawa's solo debut, "Tamahime Sama," is considered to be her definitive statement (Rolling Stone Japan rated it as the 18th greatest Japanese album of all time.) As odd as the album is, it goes down smooth: it may be bonkers, but it's far from difficult, with the possible exception of one or two quirkier moments (we'll get to that.)

Opening with the one minute and change "Doto No Ren-ai" ("Equal Romance,") Togawa sounds like a distant spirit, her high pitched voice occasionally blending and disappearing into the tinny, warbling tone that is the track's only other sound (what is that sound? A squeeze box?) Now that the stage is set, Togawa unfolds a remarkably theatrical song cycle. Each sounds as if it's the soundtrack to a scene in a play, none more so than "Yuumon No Giga" ("Caricature Of Distress.") Here, Togawa sounds like a little girl lost in the woods, surrounded by dark, chilling sounds that bring to mind Japan's excellent single "Ghosts." When a mellotron jabs from out of nowhere, it's easy to imagine lightning illuminating untold horrors for a split second, then just as quickly leaving them to sink back into the gloom.

The title track sounds, unsurprisingly, like a royal march, Ryuichi Sakamoto-esque synths striking a careful balance between theatrical futurism and evoking Japanese tradition. The most straightforward track, "Mori No Hitobito" ("People In The Forest,") is a delicate, piano driven almost-ballad that flirts with being overly twee, but nonetheless sits comfortably among the more sinister tracks surrounding it.

Some listeners might be put off by some of Togawa's more aggressive vocal flourishes, such as the Klaus Nomi-esque operatic swoops of "Konchugun" ("Military Insects,") or the extremely high pitched yelping in the chorus of "Odorenai" ("Don't Dance.") That said, they fit in with the stagy feel of the album as a whole, so those with a little patience may find themselves getting used to them.

After this album, Togawa would continue with Guernica and Yapoos, exploring equally bizarre (if slightly easier to categorize) musical forms ranging from twisted new wave to wartime era tunes as filtered through psychotic synths. A three box, self selected career retrospective was released by Sony Japan in July of 2008, but "Tamahime Sama" is the recommended entry point, in addition to being her strongest work.

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Available at Amazon Japan