Curumin

Japanpopshow

(Quannum)

Record Review by Alex Pudlin

Brazilian multi-instrumentalist Curumin’s sophomore album, Japanpopshow, is an auditory smorgasbord of genres and nationalities. Yet Japanpopshow’s eclectic menu is both its greatest strength and a fundamental flaw. The songs here work best when Curumin dabbles in several genres at once. The title track is a riveting blend of dub and Ennio Morricone-esque Spaghetti Western riffs, over which Curumin welcomes us to his Japan Pop Show (an ironic nod for a  Brazilian musucian who sings almost primarily in Portuguese).  Next up is “Compacto,” a somewhat flimsy but still catchy acoustic guitar driven soul-pop ditty. Here, Curumin combines genres without borrowing too heavily from any given one. Although it may seem like such an approach could leave the songs homeless in a way, Curumin blends the various sounds he loves to cast “Compacto” and “Japanpopshow” as accessible twists on the whole idea of “world music.”

But for every song that toes the line with subtlety, there’s a track like “Kyoto” that fully embraces one particular style.  On “Kyoto,” Quannam labelmates  Gift of Gab and Lateef the Truthspeaker show up to steer the track directly in the direction of West coast backpacker hip-hop. Quannum Projects had their heyday in the late 90s and early 00s and for good reason. But one listen to Chief Xcel’s beat is a stark reminder of how little the sound has changed in the past nine years. Not only do the elements on “Kyoto” not fuse (Curumin’s sung vocals feel like a different song than the emcees’ verses), but the very flow of the album is disrupted as a result.

If “Kyoto” were the only misstep along the way, the concept and cohesion of the album could’ve remained in tact, but unfortunately there are several examples of Curumin overemphasizing a particular genre. Songs like the clubby-reggaeton of “Caixa Preta” and the Latin G Love posturing of “Mal Estar Card,” rely so heavily on the form of their respective genres, that they distract from the seamless stylistic integration heard elsewhere on the album.  As a result, the entire album sounds disjointed. Strong song stretches, like the run of dreamy dub tinged “Dancando No Escuro” the angelic hip-hop of “Salot No Vacuo Com Joelhada” and island surf lounge (“Magrela Fever”) are then completely cut off by a clunker like “Caixa Prea.”

This sentiment is not to diminish a truly innovative track like the aforementioned “Salto”, where a music box and trumpet lullaby is stomped on by Jurassic drums and a mess of synth sludge, only to return with back-up vocals “ahs” and record scratches that blossom the song into something truly innovative. Elsewhere, “Misterio Stereo” has twinkling keyboard lines that swirl across the speakers like shooting stars and “Sambito” combines a more traditional samba rhythm with a distorted guitar riff and solid drum/record scratching interplay. Depiste the plentiful highlights however, all it takes is a  listen to anti-climactic album closer “Fumachu,” to realize the structural shortcomings that hinder Japanpopshow as a coherent whole.