Tashaki Miyaki – The Dream (Metropolis)
The opening song sounds like My Bloody Valentine. You may well be enthused by this prospect and you may well not be. Either way it does not matter.
What matters is the personal connection you make with the music… does it reach you somewhere deep inside? Does it help you cope with your daily struggle, the dogs paddling alongside you back from sea, the people who avoid your eye in the street? What mood does it create within your mind? Does it allow you to drift? Does it allow you to dream, unfettered? Last night, I was back in New York City again, somewhere on the outskirts (it could have been Chicago), lost with my companions looking for a bus that did not exist and even if it did, would not have gotten us any place we needed to go that week. Everyone, and I mean everyone had forgotten us. Not forgiven, forgotten.
I enjoy this second track on the Tashaki Miyaki album. It reminds me of the Avalon Ballroom in Boston. It makes me think of the thrill I used to receive from opening boxes, storing boxes, closing up boxes and forgetting they even existed. It resonates with pathos and the illusion of depth. Guitars churn and burst asunder. Maelstroms of feedback and distortion layer upon one another and then fade to grey. I like the third track on the Tashaki Miyaki album as well. It does not challenge me, but I know within five seconds that it will reassure me. That somehow not all hope is lost, that even though you and me will never meet (again) that a connection has been made. It’s like The Rolling Stones distorted through several years of post-Vivian Girls listening. Yeah, that good (that bad, too). I cannot hope to create 1026 words here. Do not ask me to.
Music is a choice between silence (it is never really silence though, is it?) and sound. Do you feel more comfortable surrounded on all sides of your being by the silence-that-isn’t or do you feel more comfortable if there are certain coded sequences and frequencies helping muffle that silence-that-isn’t? Does it provoke? I do not want or require provocation, unless I do. This music is the same kind of wonderful as many kinds of wonderful I have heard before (in recent years I would cite U.S. Girls but THAT DOES NOT MATTER). I am jealous of anyone who can wile away another lonely evening at the Black Bear Lodge in the company of Tashaki Miyaki but THAT DOES NOT MATTER. The whole bloody album (The Dream) is bloody wonderful but THAT DOES…. wait. It does matter, doesn’t it? I am trying to reach you dozen people out there, he remarks forlornly.
Please do not call them dream pop. I am not part of your world.
P.S. By the time I reach the fifth or sixth song my attention has once again drifted elsewhere.