We made it to 100 album reviews!!

My apologies, I couldn’t hold my excitement 😅

Before I proceed any further, I of course would like to welcome you back to yet another installment of the J-Music Exchange/Rate! If you’ve been following this series for some time now you would know to skip this next paragraph, but if you’re new to the blog and you’re not exactly sure what this post is all about ー

The Exchange/Rate is a tandem album review series conducted every month by myself alongside my good friend and fellow Japanese music fan Al (from Omunibasu). Each month we decide on a specific theme with which our reviews would revolve around. We then pick out albums from our respective libraries that we think best coincides with said theme. We will then give the album we chose to the other person and vice versa (exchange), after which we then review the album we were given (rate). This project has not only allowed us to explore music beyond our own libraries, but it provides an opportunity for us to see our favorite albums from a whole new perspective. It is our hope that this series is able to do the same for you and that you either find a new artist to try out and/or we offer you a fresh take on one of *your* favorite albums 

As you might have guessed, this month’s pair of reviews is actually going to be a bit special as with it the J-Music Exchange/Rate will now officially be hitting a hundred total album reviews. It’s actually pretty insane to think about even as I’m writing this (XD). Al and I try to be commemorative whenever we can (some of you guys might remember us doing the first ever Exchange/Rate Wheel for the series third year anniversary), so for this month, we both decided that a good way to celebrate this milestone is for us to pick out albums by the bands whose albums we recommended to one another… from the first ever Exchange/Rate! In case you needed a reminder, I had Al listen to and review Kinoko Teikoku’s Uzu ni Naru, whereas I went and did the same for SHISHAMO’s SHISHAMO 3. This time around, as an added twist, now *I* will be having Al review an album by SHISHAMO, and Al in turn will be the one giving me a Kinoko Teikoku album to talk about today.

To that end, Al will be reviewing SHISHAMO’s SHISHAMO 5 (check out his review here!), and I in turn have been tasked with Kinoko Teikoku’s Time Lapse.

Let’s turn back time shall we?

*Fun fact: both these albums came out in 2008, the very same year we started the Exchange/Rate. We genuinely did not realize this until *after* we already made our picks. Talk about having the stars align! (lol)

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きのこ帝国 (kinoko teikoku) was a Japanese Shoegaze/Experimental Rock band comprised of Sato Chiaki (Vo., Gt.) A-chan (Gt., Ke.) Shigeaki Taniguchi (Ba.) and Nishimura Kon (Dr.). Following the release of their Demo EP “Yoru ga Aketara”, the band would begin to garner notoriety as one of the premier names in the burgeoning Japanese Shoegaze scene with the mini-album “Uzu ni Naru” in 2012. The band would later sign with EMI Records, under which they would release three full length albums (“Neko to Allergy” (2015), “Ai no Yukue” (2016), and “Time Lapse” (2018)) before announcing an indefinite hiatus on May 27, 2019.

＜タイム・ラプス (time lapse)＞
(＊Spotify link to the full album)

CDJapan Affiliate Link(s):
Time Lapse [Regular Edition] / Kinoko Teikoku

＜T ｒａｃｋｌｉｓｔ＞

０１・WHY
０２・&
０３・ラプス/lapse
０４・Thanatos
０５・傘/kasa
０６・ヒーローにはなれないけど/hero ni wa narenai kedo
０７・金木犀の夜/kinmokusei no yoru
０８・中央線/chuu-ou sen
０９・Humming
１０・LIKE OUR LIFE
１１・タイトロープ/tightrope
１２・カノン/canon
１３・夢みる頃を過ぎても/yumemiru koro wo sugitemo

Ａｌ： Can’t really say I’m the best person to discuss Kinoko Teikoku, especially when the person I gave this album to has a much, much deeper understanding and more intimate appreciation for them. But based on what I do know and the couple albums I’ve heard from this band, Time Lapse definitely feels different in the grand scheme of Kinoko Teikoku’s music. Compared to their initial releases in Uzu ni Naru and eureka, where they show off their signature shoegaze sound through melancholic instrumentals and Sato Chiaki’s mesmerizing vocals, Time Lapse gives off a much more mainstream-sounding rock vibe that even injects a bit of poppiness into it. The guitars are louder, the vocals are brighter, the track lengths are shorter… it’s definitely an interesting record to look at, especially when my first exposure to this band was through Uzu ni Naru.

And to echo Leap’s sentiments from his tribute post for the band, this album seems like a great example, or showing, of Kinoko Teikoku’s musical evolution. Seeing them go from taking on an odd, mysterious and almost unsettling tone with their first release, to expressing a safer rock sound that feels much more inviting and appealing to the general public in Time Lapse; while I’ve always felt neutral about this, I do get the sentiments that long-time Kinoko fans may have had when they saw their somewhat niche shoegaze band follow the ways of the conventional and ever-changing music industry. However, I’d be lying if I said that Time Lapse didn’t include some really nice tracks, including ones that have become some of my favorites from the band. The chorus in “Hero ni wa Narenai Kedo” is really nice/catchy to listen to, I love the emotional nature of “Kinmokuseino Yoru”, and I think you still get a good glimpse of the band’s slower/somber side through tracks like the “Tight Rope” and its twangy guitar riffs, as well as the soothing vibe of “LIKE OUR LIFE”.

Again, I’m not that qualified to talk about Kinoko Teikoku but boy, do I like this album quite a bit. Plus, I’ll never not enjoy listening to Sato Chiaki’s vocals.

＜Ｓｏｎｇｓ　ｏｆ　Ｉｎｔｅｒｅｓｔ＞

０１・WHY
We’re starting off this album review much in the same manner that it opens, with (and as per the first track’s namesake) a simple inquiry; “why”. An inquiry that had been directed at Kinoko Teikoku themselves for the better part of their music careers by their fans, some even still to this day, despite the band having already gone their separate ways. Why. Although the question in everyone’s minds has taken on many forms over the years with each new release by Kinoko Teikoku following their major record label deal, a through line can be perceived in them: Why did the band stop making Shoegaze songs all of a sudden?, Why did Kinoko Teikoku change their sound? Why is this album opening up with Grunge guitars of all things?

Okay, admittedly that last one was all me, but you get the picture. I discuss it a bit more at length in a tribute post that I wrote for the band after I had learned about their disbandment (by all means feel free to check it out if you haven’t yet already) but it truly is night and day hearing a song like this from Kinoko Teikoku, knowing how songs of theirs used to sound during their days as an indie band. Gone now is the distinct noisy wall of distortion and the dream-like atmosphere created by the echoic reverb of vocalist Sato Chiaki’s singing. Instead, and as you’ll hear in WHY here, everything is noticeably much cleaner in comparison and arguably better suited for radio transmission (especially too with how the song seamlessly bleeds into the second track of the album &, which is an even further departure from the band’s earlier Shoegaze-y offerings). Suffice for it to say, this shift had continually been met with mixed feelings by listeners who have been following the band’s releases up to this point.

０７・金木犀の夜/kinmokusei no yoru
In hindsight, I think it’s pretty fair to say at this point that Kinmokusei no Yoru was the song that put Kinoko Teikoku into mainstream consciousness. Some might say that it should be Chronostasis instead that holds the honor and, considering how it was actually through Chronostasis that I first found out about the band myself, they’d have a good argument for it. If you asked me which of the two songs I liked more, I would actually answer the latter solely because of the history I have with it (though from a tonal perspective I just prefer it more too). However, if the question instead was which song of theirs I thought was able to resonate with the most amount of people, without a doubt I think it’s this one.

A lot of it is because Kinmokusei no Yoru, for the most part, also just plain hard to not like. The intro is superbly catchy, as is the main melody of the song. I personally very much like the simplicity of the arrangement and how the sounds feel distant and just a little bit spaced apart, which gives the song a lonely sort of airiness to it. It’s not the sort of otherworldly dreamscape that their songs used to evoke, but something closer to home; like the moment when a party winds down to a close and most of the other guests have already left, and the music fills the empty space left behind. In addition, why I think a lot of people gravitate towards Kinmokusei no Yoru too (Japanese fans in particular) is that it’s also a song that’s very much relatable. The lyrics evoke a sense of longing brought about by memories of a former lover triggered by an otherwise mundane occurrence (in the case of the song, the scent of ‘kinmokusei’) and the subsequent internal struggle that it brings as the persona contemplates whether or not to reach out again to their old flame.

０８・中央線/chuu-ou sen
I really like the placing of Chuu-ou Sen here just after Kinmokusei no Yoru, as I do find that the juxtaposition of the two really emphasizes what (in my opinion) makes this song special. That is to say, if you listen to the two songs back to back (as you would if you’re listening to the album from the first track to the last in sequential order), you should be able to easily pick out how different Chuu-ou Sen sounds. In contrast to how polished and well-produced Kinmokusei no Yoru is, this song comes across as a bit rougher, and at times even almost indies-like with how uncharacteristically grainy it sounds relative to the rest of the songs on Time Lapse.

In relation to that however, what’s interesting about Chuu-ou Sen is, much like Kinmokusei no Yoru, it too is fairly nostalgic. Not so much for what it’s about though, but rather for how it sounds, as it’s about as close to “vintage” Kinoko Teikoku as they’ve managed to get both for this album as well as… well, pretty much ever since they got signed. In particular, the song (to me at least) feels like a cross between Girl meets NUMBER GIRL and Kokudou Slope, with both being tracks from their indie days. Of course, it’s not *exactly* the same as before, though I do think that that’s actually by design. Moreover, even having this song sound the way that it does I feel is very much intentional on Kinoko Teikoku’s part (more on this later).

１３・夢みる頃を過ぎても/yumemiru koro wo sugitemo
When I first listened to Time Lapse right around when it released, I honestly didn’t think much of Yumemiru Koro wo Sugitemo. Not to say that I thought it was a bad song or anything, just that in the context of the album, the most I would end up appreciating for is in how it did its job as an album closer reasonably well. It wasn’t a song that I expected to come back to by itself. That is until Kinoko Teikoku announced their indefinite hiatus not long thereafter, and Time Lapse became their last official release. Looking back after the fact and thinking about how this is effectively the last song that the band would ever release, it has since become one full of sentiment and possibly even self-reflection.

The song literally translates to “maybe it’s past the time to be dreaming” and talks largely about the passage of time, with the persona in the lyrics reaching a coming of age, along with the scenery and the people around them (here’s a link to a a song translation by kimonobeat). It also talks about the inevitability of change that comes with growing up, as well as the inability to turn things back to the way they used to be, despite however much we may want to. That tomorrow will always be at the end of the dream-like days of the past, where at some point it’s simply just time to wake up, as maybe it’s past the time to be dreaming and now time to face the new day ahead. While already pretty melancholic by itself, it becomes even more poignant when you stop to consider how this is technically-speaking the very last song that Kinoko Teikoku would ever come out with. Something to note with regard to that is how Time Lapse was released less than a year before the band would announce their indefinite hiatus. It’s entirely possible that they have already contemplated putting a halt to their activities even well before that, and they knew for a long time this was going to be the last release. Perhaps, then, Yumemiru Koro wo Sugitemo is directly addressing that. That this is about Kinoko Teikoku themselves; a retrospective look at the band, how much they’ve changed over the course of their run and at times yearning to go back to the way things were, ultimately surrendering to the fact that change is inevitable.

＜Ｗｈａｔ　Ｉ　ｔｈｉｎｋ　ｏｆ　タイム・ラプス (time lapse)＞

Something I would to bring to your attention, to help put into context what I’m about to go over as I wrap up my thoughts on Time Lapse here is that, barring the year 2017, Kinoko Teikoku had put either an EP/mini-album or a full studio album out each year over the span of six years: Uzu ni Naru (2012), Long Good Bye, eureka (2013), Fake World Wonderland (2014), Neko to Allergy (2015), Ai no Yukue (2016), and Time Lapse (2018). Of course, this level of activity is not entirely unheard of (on the other side of this Exchange/Rate alone, SHISHAMO was also able to do largely the same barring some gap years). However, in an attempt to elucidate (if at least for myself) a meaning behind the naming of this album that I started to get a better idea as to what it might be about.

Time lapse (or “time-lapse”) is a term commonly, if not almost exclusively used in the field of photography, and denotes “taking a sequence of frames at set intervals to record changes that take place slowly over time” so that when “shown at normal speed, or in quick succession, the action seems much faster”. This is done so that changes that are hard to notice or otherwise normally imperceptible (at least from a practical standpoint) since they occur over the course of an extended time frame can be perceived easier and more readily, for example: the movement of celestial bodies, such as the setting of the sun; or plant growth, like the sprouting of mung beans. The progression of the event as it occurs, and subsequently being able to see the points where a change (or changes) occur is thus usually the focus of creating such films.

I view change, or change that happens over a period of time to be more precise, as a focal theme for this album. A lot of the songs on Time Lapse are ones that look fondly at the past and lament that things have changed since those times: whether it’s a change within ourselves (Chuu-oh Sen), a change in our relationships with people (Kinmokusei no Yoru) or, a change in our surroundings and worldview (Yumemiru Koro wo Sugitemo). One of if not the “biggest” Kinoko Teikoku’s music as a whole is also that of change. In particular, and as mentioned earlier, the clear shift in their style from being a Shoegaze band to one more Pop-leaning and diverse, which some saw as fairly abrupt and only really following their signing under a record label.

All that being said, allow me now to go back to all those albums of theirs that I listed. Specifically, I want you to recall what I said about the schedule of their releases, and how they put out major releases close to yearly over the span of six years. As a thought experiment, I want you to line those albums up in your head, right next to one another forming a straight line going from the oldest release to the most recent one. This too, in a sense, is a time lapse. Six years of activity condensed into a string of six or seven releases. It might not seem like it at first just looking at south of ten albums, but I think we can all agree that six years is a lot of time. A lot of time for change to occur. What might be perceived as abrupt because of a difference in between releases is actually the result of a year or two’s worth of change. And I think that’s where Kinoko Teikoku is coming from with this release. That they are keenly aware of how they themselves have changed as a band, albeit not all of sudden, but rather gradually as a product of time.

＜Ｍｙ　Ｒａｔｉｎｇ＞


５ ｏｕｔ ｏｆ ５

＆

１０ ｏｕｔ ｏｆ １０

It’s somewhat of a supreme irony that Time Lapse ended up being Kinoko Teikoku’s most successful album, when it’s both the band’s final release as well as the one where they try to recapture a bit of their old sound, where it seemed as though leading up to it they’ve all but tried to distance themselves from it. Of course, I don’t think that the album was able to breach the Top 15 Oricon charts because of tracks like Chuu-oh Sen or LIKE OUR LIFE, and if anything I instead just find Time Lapse to be a nice balance of appealing to fans from their indie days while also being able to cater to a more general public. That is to say, the album was clearly meant to evoke a sense of nostalgia for its listener: whether it’s nostalgia you have for the band and how they used to be; or nostalgia regarding events in your own life; on both ends it most certainly delivers.

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What are your guys’ thoughts on Kinoko Teikoku’s Time Lapse? Let us know in the comments section down below!

Before you go, don’t forget to drop by Omunibasu to check out Al’s review of SHISHAMO 5! As was the case with me here, I’m sure Al has a bunch of things he wants to say about this album too 😉