Labeling Tenniscoats “lesser-known relatives of Deerhoof,” as many have done, is sort of like saying Mussolini and Michelangelo were long lost brothers. I admit that both bands have at least one Japanese member, and play their individual mutations of pop, but the end result of the Tenniscoats and the husband and wife duo of Saya and Takashi Ueno, is about as far away from Deerhoof as possible.
For some reason, when a Japanese accent reaches the Westerner’s ears, almost everyone has the same reaction. Chris Jones of the BBC described Tenniscoats’ last album as filled with: “little girl lost vocals,” while PopMatters called it a “nice, soft, warm bowl of heart food.” Tenniscoats do indeed make some fragile-sounding music, which makes sense because they have a singer that says things like: “communicating with people makes my brain feel softly warm.”
But, despite their tender results, it’s also worth noting that the release for their latest album, “Tan-Tan Therapy,” tries to refute that the band is somehow playing on this as a gimmick. It reads: “unlike almost every other Japanese band that’s crossed over to Western audiences, they’re perceived as neither ’cute’ nor ’weird.’”
Perspective is key in deciding if Tenniscoats succeed or fail on this spectrum of “cuteness.” Considering their popular perception in America as a Japanese band and hence Deerhoof equivalent, the two bands may not be as disparate as they initially seemed. Deerhoof has made their name in part from grating guitar coupled with the usually smooth glide of Satomi’s voice, not entirely unlike the form of Bilinda Butcher’s soft overtones in My Bloody Valentine. While Deerhoof is not solely responsible for forcing this aesthetic on North American ears, they are a key archetype in discussing modern “art rock” from Japan.
So how do Tenniscoats twist the Japanese stereotype? Most of “Tan-Tan Therapy” is so saturated with tender piano strokes and vocal flourishes that it seems at first a fish in the barrel of Japanese “tenderness.” But keeping in mind the fact that most of the record was arranged and recorded by the Swedish trio Tape, the perspective starts to shift. On a track named “Umbarepa!” the climax of the album’s rhythmic intensity, the effect is borderline parody. Nintendo should license this track, because I’ve never heard a slicker Zelda theme song.
While moments like these stand out, it’s the morosely interspersed ambience that binds the sections of unrestrained saccharine. The group’s seventh album, just like Food’s latest record, is being called the most mainstream to date because of its accessibility. Tape’s northern European influence is duly felt as Sigur Ros sonorities and spacey orchestrations find their way between the Uenos’ song structures.
In a recent interview with Alchemy Radio, Saya explained through a translator that “when we did a tour in Sweden we toured with a Hapna [label] band called Tape… they invited us later to play. [As far as the] language barrier goes, it is difficult to make sure little details don’t get lost, but we felt we communicated through music.”
Johan Berthling, a member of Tape, realized the unusual genius in Tenniscoats’ songwriting style from observing the couple write and work together.
“Their interplay is angular and at the same time the most sensitive one has ever heard,” Berthling explained. “A feeling of a music that constantly goes on, whether Saya and Ueno are on stage or not. A music free of pretension, but urgent as few things I have heard.”
It doesn’t hurt that all eight tracks on Tan-Tan Therapy are in Japanese, nonetheless, the vocal inflections sound primal to the point of pain. Saya sings with unparalleled precision—no syllable is out of place or not in time. The music, led by these vocals, fits them perfectly, clearly a comfortable and practiced sound for the band.
So where does this well-thought, enigmatic music put Tenniscoats on the North American market? Literally right next to Deerhoof. Earlier this month, Saya played alongside Satomi at Aquarius in San Francisco as a new duo called Oneone. The set was acoustic, and the group plans to play in Japan later this year.
And that’s truly great for both talented musicians. I’m just not sure why Tenniscoats have to be called “wide-eyed children at play in a room full of instruments” by the condescending Brooklyn-blog circuit. Even if that’s the result the band had hoped for (which I highly doubt), it’s still an unnecessary addendum to the pure beauty of the band’s music, and moreover, way too diminutive of a description for a group so honestly sincere in their work.
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