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Those still mourning the vacated throne once home to the elegant Dubstar before some of their number went on to form Client may well be wise to tune into the delights that await on Color Filter’s mighty fine ‘Silent Way’.
In essence Color Filter is Ryuji Tsuneyoshi a guitarist, composer of TV commercials and award winning nuclear physicist (don’t ask us) who heads up this electronic collective from his Tokyo base camp and who were recently given the thumbs up from none other than, man of the moment, Kevin Coyne of Flaming Lips fame, who cited the band when asked what did psychedelia mean to him.
Well not quite. ‘Silent Way’ seductively moulds together the sweet nimbleness and naivety of J-Pop and marries it to down tempo arrangements (‘Waiting for the Fall’), ten tracks of well rounded happy kitsch-ville candy pop that softly crosses the borders between indie and dance and has, into the bargain, the same alluring air about them as does the London based duo Ninochtka with the strains of the quite perfect St Etienne fluttering captivatingly in the ether. What makes the release so complete is the addition of Yuki Nishimura’s sensual vocals that seem to float about almost as though she is dreamily murmuring rather than singing acting as a perfect foil for the teasing textures found unveiling themselves within.
‘White dots on blue’ is probably the first point at which to seek out as it smartly splices all of the above with elements of Stereolab’s infatuation with bossa nova / Francophile pop, throw in the loose baggy strains of the Happy Mondays at their laziest and a sly riff reminiscent of Chic and your away and dancing contently. ‘Goin out of my head’ just oozes sex and will more than likely cause you to get Goosebumps were you never thought Goosebumps could or would ever appear, Nishimura’s soft swept whispers reminiscent of Sadier / Sinatra gently caressing the spiralling late night cosmic arrangements beneath. The frail slow burning ‘Strange Day’ has that same lonely bitter sweet cast of regret that has become the trademark of Melys of late and makes for the albums only lump in throat moment while almost acting in complete contrast ‘Psychedelic Breakfast’ is thoughtfully introspective and daintily cinematic while the parting ‘Endless Word’ will see to that your packed off to sleep with a glow in the heart not before allowing the CD to run for a minute or so for one of those secret track moments for a spot of quick fire freak out. Quite sweet really.
MARK BARTON
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