Lost in Found at the Que

Lost in Found (part of them)

Lost in Found is a fairly new six-piece band, who count among their big fans members of advantage Lucy, the brilliant Tokyo rock group. Not many beginning bands can make that claim. That despite the fact that Lost in Found has so far only put together one demo album (a very good one).

What's notable about Lost in Found's music is how laid back it sounds, without seeming lazy -- their tunes sound like something you'd sing over an outdoor breakfast.



Yukiko Hamada of Lost in Found.

Making their songs attractive are the pretty, transparent voices of the two singers: Mike Matuszak, a Canadian of Polish descent, and Mineko Yokoyama, a Japanese woman. Three of their songs can be sampled here.

Lost in Found opened tonight at the Momus show. They seem to still be learning the ropes of live playing, but are nevertheless a fun band to watch on stage.



Mike Matuszak of Lost in Found.

Momus Comes To Tokyo, Plays The Que

I didn't know about the balding, eye-patched Scottish musician Momus until I saw him at the Tokyo club Que tonight. But he's been around for a while and is apparently pretty popular internationally, as evidenced by the high number of foreigners in the audience.

Momus played alone with just a PC with sampled music on stage. It was a one-hour plus solo performance, which has the potential for pain for the audience, but Momus pulled it off well. With his great, raspy, tenor voice, he sang a stream of humorous and literary-sounding lines.

He lived in Japan for while and collaborated with Japanese songstress Kahimi Karie. Maybe as a result, some of his songs have references to Japan: "Tokyo is far away/The English wear a poker face", went one. Another song about a cat was inspired by a novel by Soseki Natsume, the great writer and face on 1,000 yen bills.

Momus also said Tokyo's his favorite city, which might be a line he uses in every city he goes to, but regardless, it was a statement with which I agreed wholeheartedly.

Japan Live...In Seoul

Palace guards in Seoul.

Japan Live has crossed the sea to Korea.

Six months ago I went to Seoul with a group of Japanese rock musicians, and had such a great time that when I heard Tokyo rock bands Plectrum and Swinging Popsicle were visiting Seoul, I didn't hesitate to stick along. Jang Yaeri, a Korean woman who speaks fluent Japanese and is a true J-pop lover, organized the event.

It was a blast once more. At every show the Korean fans were on fire, reacting to the two bands' amazing performances. Plectrum and Swinging Popsicle, for their part, got their energy from the fact that after every song of every set they played, the audience whopped and roared like they were the Beatles.


Plectrum at the Kuchu Camp (Seoul).

Mongoose at the Soundholic (Seoul)

Soundholic in Seoul.

Soundholic. An outstanding name for a rock club. It's in Seoul's Hongik University district, a bustling entertainment center for the young and the hip. It's here that Tokyo's Plectrum and Swinging Popsicle did their first night's gig.


Mongoose at the Soundholic.

A Korean band named Mongoose opened for the two bands. A couple of things stand out in my mind about Mongoose.

First, the bassist.

He was sending very mixed-up fashion signals. He wore a black AC/DC T-shirt. But he sported one of those not-quite-mohawks like David Beckham had at one point, with the hair cut short on the sides rather than shaved off. He also had a moustache. Despite the bizarre fashion, he's a very nice guy, one of the Japanese musicians said.

Second, Mongoose played a cover of Plectrum's 'Cherry Boy 1994'. Giggle at the song title if you like, but it's a nice tune, and I was impressed Mongoose knew the song, not to mention learned to play it enough to perform at a show.

Until this year, Koreans couldn't buy Japanese pop music CDs. I doubt Plectrum's 'Sorry' is available even now in Korean stores. So how did Mongoose discover 'Cherry Boy 1994'? I guess somehow on-line, but it's still a thing of wonder.

Plectrum replied to Mongoose by playing the 'Cherry Boy 1994' themselves during their show that night.

***

Speaking of Korea's J-pop ban, I heard something interesting from Plectrum's guys. The night the quartet arrived in Seoul they were interviewed by a radio station. However, they weren't allowed to play on the radio a CD of theirs they brought because the songs contained Japanese lyrics. And when they did a live performance on the radio, they had to improvise and sing 'naa, naa, naa' where the Japanese lyrics would have been.

Is it really true that Koreans can buy J-pop CDs now, but they can't listen to Japanese language pop songs on the radio?

Linus' Blanket at Kuchu Camp (Seoul)

Street outside Kuchu Camp in Seoul.

Plectrum was in Seoul six months ago, so knew what to expect of the Korean audience -- lots of love. For Swinging Popsicle, on the other hand, it was their first time to play in Korea (first time to play outside of Japan, actually). The cheers that greeted them as they walked to the stage and the roar of approval that came after every song must have been a very pleasant shock.

After all, they had never played for a Korean audience before. They probably didn't even know if anyone knew who they were.

Plectrum's and Swinging Popsicle's sets at the Soundholic on Saturday night were excellent. But the best playing by both bands came the next evening, at a little bar called Kuchu Camp on a little street filled with Korean barbecue joints. Kuchu Camp is run by a Korean guy nicknamed Sutekky (Japanese for 'dandy' or 'handsome') who is a J-pop nut who flies to Tokyo several times a year to buy new CDs. As a result of his shopping trips, his bar has an impressive collection of Japanese music. In fact, the name of his bar, Kuchu Camp, comes from a song by his favorite Japanese band, Fishmans.


Instruments and CDs at Kuchu Camp.


Kuchu Camp is a small basement bar. The bands and audience shared this tiny space, boosting camaraderie. Up first was a lovely local band named Linus' Blanket.


Singer Gene and guitarist Minsung of Linus' Blanket.

Linus' Blanket has just released their debut album 'Semester' in Japan, and apparently it has climbed to the top of one of Japan's indies music charts. It's no wonder Linus is popular in Japan: their delicate blend of Swedish pop and bossa nova sounds is the sort of thing Japanese listeners lap up.

'Delicate' is also a good word to describe Linus singer Gene and her singing. She must be the most lady-like pop singer I've ever seen, as if a young heiress of some aristocratic family was magically transported in front of a keyboard in a smoky bar to play a few tunes.

Like Mongoose, Linus ended with a cover song: 'something new' by Swinging Popsicle. It was a beautiful rendition of the song, and set the stage for Swinging Popsicle's set.


Wonyul of Julia Hart, supporting bass for Linus' Blanket.

Swinging Popsicle Live at Kuchu Camp (Seoul)

Mineko of Swinging Popsicle.

I have to confess, Japanese pop band Swinging Popsicle hadn't left much of an impression on me before I saw them in Seoul, even though I owned one of their albums and went to a show of theirs once in Tokyo.

That changed when I saw them perform during their Korea trip. They played two fantastic shows that I won't soon forget.

Singer Mineko Fujishima is the band's star, and the Korean audiences loved her. It isn't hard to see why. She is perkily cute and has an amusing double personality on stage: while performing, she's a soulful singer with a powerful voice, someone who becomes totally absorbed in the music and draws listeners into her world. But as soon as a song is done, she changes to something like a school girl, punching peace signs in the air and smiling broadly.

After each song, before the last note had even sounded, the crowds erupted in cheers and applause. When the band played the tune 'I just wanna kiss you' from their latest album, Transit, the crowd at the Kuchu Camp sang along to the chorus. Bassist Hironobu Hirata said that brought tears to his eyes, because he wrote the lyrics to the song. I understood why he was moved; these were strangers in another country singing along.


Swinging Popsicle at the Kuchu Camp.

The Korean audiences' ecstatic response to their music must have come as a happy surprise for Swinging Popsicle. Back in Tokyo, they play to fans who are much more reserved. Japanese rock music fans are like classical music fans sometimes. They may wait until the last note of a song has faded away, and even then might not move, waiting until the singer thanks the crowd to start clapping and cheering.

Not so for the Koreans: if they love a piece of music, they will let the musicians know, whatever point in the song the band is at. The Japanese musicians are flattered and energized by this.

For the Japanese crowds, I think group psychology is at work. No one wants to be the nail that sticks out of the board, because that nail will get whacked by a hammer, as a local saying goes -- the Japanese make a big effort to avoid sticking out in the crowd. That may be the reason why they try not to clap prematurely even at the conclusion of a rock song.

(I love Japan, but still, nothing is perfect, and the truth is that many Japanese are quite uptight in peculiar ways. I once got into an argument with a Japanese guy because he was unhappy that my friends were TALKING during a PUNK ROCK SHOW.)

I don't know enough about Korean people to explain the roots of their passion. But, and being aware that this may be a misguided cultural cliche, I do wonder whether food is a factor. Does not their fiery cuisine of hot peppers and garlic heat up their hearts? By contrast, the Japanese eat stuff like tofu and raw fish. Delicious too, true, but maybe not the most efficient fuel for passion?

Plectrum Live at Kuchu Camp (Seoul)

Plectrum (Naoki Kishihara, aka Kicchon, on right).

"That might have been the hottest show I've ever played," said Akira Fujita, Plectrum's lead guitarist after their Sunday show at Seoul's Kuchu Camp. Hot both in terms of temperature and the audience's excitement level.

The Korean crowd at the show was the sort of audience rock musicians dream of. They were already warmed up and fully prepared to party after Swinging Popsicle's great set. When Plectrum, the night's third and final act, got up to play, the roar of the crowd felt more like what you'd hear when a big-name artist appears on a stadium stage than an indies band starting a set at a basement bar.


Akira Fujita and Taisuke Takata.

Plectrum did about eleven songs, but it's a blur.

The Japanese band played at their joyous best, and the crowd answered by shouting their approval after every song, solo, stage antic and comments in Korean by Plectrum members. Members of Linus' Blanket and other bands danced next to the bar.


The crowd at the Kuchu Camp.

So that everyone could see the band, the audience in front sat on the floor for the first half of the show. But when singer Taisuke Takata urged the audience to dance to their song 'Uptown Girl', the crowd got to their feet and never sat down again.

At one point the sound system broke down. Takata went on singing and moved forward from the mike into the audience and sang with them. The sound guy soon found out what the problem was, got the sound back up and gave the OK sign, and at the exact moment the guitar and bass came back to life with their amplified noise again, Takata jumped back to the mike to sing. It was an electric moment, in both senses of the word. The crowd went wild.


Mikiya Tatsui, Plectrum's drummer.

Spectrum Live at Kuchu Camp (Seoul)

The Grande Finale - a Beatles Cover.

For the grand finale, Plectrum, Swinging Popsicle and Linus' Blanket played a Beatles cover together.


The show's over.

I see a lot of strange and funny thing going to rock shows, but what I witnessed at the end of the Kuchu Camp show must be one of the funnier and stranger things I've ever seen.

Their name was Spectrum.


Spectrum!!!

Composed of Kuchu Camp owner Sutekky, a female drummer and a guitar and a bass, they were a cover band of Plectrum. Hence, 'Spectrum'.

Only six months ago, there was probably only a handful of Koreans who knew about Plectrum. Now there was a bar full of admiring fans, and a COPY BAND.

Spectrum played one Plectrum song. Their performance was pretty rough, but full of spirit. Sutekky threw the mike stand down to the floor the second he started singing. And he sang the entire song in Japanese. It was wonderful to watch. The members of Plectrum loved it.

***

So ended Plectrum's and Swinging Popsicle's Seoul shows. But the night wasn't quite over yet. There was still the uchiage, the party that all Japanese bands throw to celebrate the success of shows, where booze flows freely. That night it was beer and soju over Korean barbecue.


Uchiage, the post-show party.

Clisms at Shinjuku Marz

Clisms at Shinjuku Marz

Clisms electrified the Shinjuku Marz tonight. They converted me. My second time seeing them, this time at this rock club in western Tokyo, I've officially become a fan of the rock quintet (whose name is properly pronounced Chlistmas).

There are many radical things about this band. Let's start with the drums: they have two drum sets, one drummer facing the other. They make a ruckus, but a very musical ruckus. The two pound the drums so hard you can feel air hit your body like shock waves from artillery fire.

Then there's the music. If the Clisms were a college course, Post-Punk 101 would be a prerequisite. It's not required that you take Modern Jazz 10 and 20th C. Avant Garde Music 101 beforehand, but it's highly recommended in order to get the most out of the lectures. This is like fusion-era Miles Davis meets Captain Beefheart meets Spinal Tap Mark II.


But don't let me get carried away. This is just great rock 'n' roll, and anyone with ears should enjoy the Clisms.

The band is also a lot of fun to watch on stage. They're all clad in white cardigans. There are the two drummers, of course, who bang away like tomorrow won't arrive. There's the keyboardist, playing with an unperturbed expression in the midst of sonic chaos, as if he's walking down the street to the corner shop. The guitar and bass are long-haired hipsters, but the bass talks with a disarmingly soft and gentle voice.

If you ever have a chance -- have yourself a merry Clism.

Vasallo Crab 75 at Shinjuku Marz

Vasallo Crab 75

Vasallo Crab 75, playing at the rock club Shinjuku Marz in western Tokyo, was great as always, though it wasn't the best performance I'd seen of this quintet. I didn't feel sucked into their music like I have in the past.

Maybe I'm still reeling from the shock of Orange Plankton's last show, making me unable to dig other bands as much. (Orange Plankton's show was incredible. A bunch of new fans have written in their home page to say how the show moved them.)

But I did figure out one thing tonight -- why Vasallo Crab always hangs a disco ball in front of one of the amps. They do that because it looks cool when a spot light hits the disco ball, rays radiating outwards like a sea urchin of light.

When singer Daisuke Kudo stood in front of the lit disco ball, the lights looked like they were coming out of his back. He was like one of those Buddhist sculptures with a thousand arms.

***

Because Vasallo Crab 75 is a bands' band, their shows attract a lot of local musicians.

In the audience tonight: girl members of Lost in Found, and a guy from Swinging Popsicle. Both are Tokyo indies guitar pop bands.



Vasallo Crab 75

G-ampere at Shinjuku Marz

G-ampere

G-ampere (pronounced, ahem, 'guitar ampere') was another Tokyo rock band playing tonight with Clisms and Vasallo Crab 75 at the Shinjuku Marz. The thing that stood out about this group was its drummer, who was the most out-of-control, tornado-like, hyperactive drummer I'd ever seen. She attacked the drums like it was a form of Scream Therapy.

***

It was my first time to go to Shinjuku Marz, which is on the same street as the Loft and ACB Hall, and inside Kabukichou, the adult entertainment capital of the world. If you're a guy, unless you choose your route to the club carefully you will quickly become the target of touts.

The Marz is a nice, new club, however. It has an amazing light system for a club of its small size (maximum capacity is probably a couple of hundred people), the stage lights shooting around the hall in vivid colors. And the staffers are actually friendly. Unlike some of the older clubs, where the employees are apathetic or worse when you try to make money for their establishments by buying tickets or booze.