Tracks
Japanther: "Summer of '79"
(2007)
By Drew Hinshaw | 4 February 2008
Regrettably, after weeks thumbing through case precedent in the D.A.'s office, I think I'm ready to build my case against Japanther -- the unassuming Brooklyn Noize twosome that offers a more visceral punch than your typical post-punk, post-9/11 New York happening. These are real stands-up guys in the outer-borough community, the type of flag-bearing provincial act that can still pump out a trashy, downwardly mobile aesthetic to a self-conscious, clearly not downwardly mobile Brooklyn audience.
The niggle, your honor, is I feel it's all contingent on convenient lie, exposed with a tinge of humor and regret in their "Summer of '79." That's one of many tracks on their latest record, Skuffed Up My Huffy, that drives the DeLorean back to a time when "Jimmy Carter was the president, and we were made to feel like aliens," whatever that second clause means. The time/place setting is more than lyrical, given that their two-piece/five-instrument set-up -- distorted bass, drums, MPC, cassette deck, casio -- recalls the aggressive/creative resourcefulness of subway vandals, turntablists, and CBGBs power trios. Insofar as the bass passes for a synth, it sounds at times like Eno. And to further ground themselves in an atmosphere of urban decay, they keep a grainy sample or two handy for the opening bar.
Of course, that's a brazen stunt, born of necessity: New York 2007 is light years away from the rotting fool's Canaan Lou Reed called home. Reed's mythical New York, a post-White Flight hell-hole/hardscrabble equalizer is buried twice-over. Problematically, the persistent legend, combined with an exceptional growth economy, keeps roping in those students/young professionals who can afford to play the part; thus, the way-in is being clogged with privilege. Delis that sold gross weed have been converted into Starbucks, Orange juice is $6 some places, the cab drivers are losing money to those fancy credit-card taxis, NYU tuition is nearing $50,000 a year, subway hikes are ineluctable, Bushwick has been ethnically cleansed, venerable Harlem restaurants are closing by the month, and real-life-no-lie Rudolph Giuliani might be our next president. Everybody north of 95th street is hereby advised to take a weekend, buy some souvenirs and flee this Sodom before the GOP bombast about "sanctuary cities" takes a grievous turn.
I know this is all content for a policy paper, not a rock review, but if Japanther is a Brooklyn band, then these are the issues them and every Park Slope pedestrian with a pair of peepers is baring witness to. The Jimmy Carter malaise might have been exhausting, an insufferable whiplash from the madness of Vietnam, but in the back some dank dive bar clogged with burn-outs and vets, you could earn yourself hope, character, and community just by trudging through destitution and addiction. Or at least that's how it seems, 28 years later when the suburbification of America's cities makes gas lines seem just dreadful enough be considered quaint.
The niggle, your honor, is I feel it's all contingent on convenient lie, exposed with a tinge of humor and regret in their "Summer of '79." That's one of many tracks on their latest record, Skuffed Up My Huffy, that drives the DeLorean back to a time when "Jimmy Carter was the president, and we were made to feel like aliens," whatever that second clause means. The time/place setting is more than lyrical, given that their two-piece/five-instrument set-up -- distorted bass, drums, MPC, cassette deck, casio -- recalls the aggressive/creative resourcefulness of subway vandals, turntablists, and CBGBs power trios. Insofar as the bass passes for a synth, it sounds at times like Eno. And to further ground themselves in an atmosphere of urban decay, they keep a grainy sample or two handy for the opening bar.
Of course, that's a brazen stunt, born of necessity: New York 2007 is light years away from the rotting fool's Canaan Lou Reed called home. Reed's mythical New York, a post-White Flight hell-hole/hardscrabble equalizer is buried twice-over. Problematically, the persistent legend, combined with an exceptional growth economy, keeps roping in those students/young professionals who can afford to play the part; thus, the way-in is being clogged with privilege. Delis that sold gross weed have been converted into Starbucks, Orange juice is $6 some places, the cab drivers are losing money to those fancy credit-card taxis, NYU tuition is nearing $50,000 a year, subway hikes are ineluctable, Bushwick has been ethnically cleansed, venerable Harlem restaurants are closing by the month, and real-life-no-lie Rudolph Giuliani might be our next president. Everybody north of 95th street is hereby advised to take a weekend, buy some souvenirs and flee this Sodom before the GOP bombast about "sanctuary cities" takes a grievous turn.
I know this is all content for a policy paper, not a rock review, but if Japanther is a Brooklyn band, then these are the issues them and every Park Slope pedestrian with a pair of peepers is baring witness to. The Jimmy Carter malaise might have been exhausting, an insufferable whiplash from the madness of Vietnam, but in the back some dank dive bar clogged with burn-outs and vets, you could earn yourself hope, character, and community just by trudging through destitution and addiction. Or at least that's how it seems, 28 years later when the suburbification of America's cities makes gas lines seem just dreadful enough be considered quaint.