Japancakes - "Loveless"

Japancakes - Soon (Darla 2007)

Japancakes - Loveless / Darla

"are you excited... really?"

This question was posed by an anonymous noter on Friday in response to Michael's Prefuse 73 review. Maybe it wasn't conscious, but they've allowed a can of worms to open itself in lieu of this month's feeling that the sky was falling in on the "indie" lover's world. It started with the suckerpunch of Radiohead's In Rainbows. Then came The Black Kids pre-CMJ when everyone was wondering, well, why them? Then came Sasha Frere-Jones and the race card. This came back to The Black Kids, who came back from CMJ with everyone still wondering, er, why them? Then came the Oink bombshell. Then came Idolator booting bloggers out of their ivory towers. Almost unnoticed, Stylus suddenly slipped out the back door. Happy Halloween.

If you've been left reeling from October, you're not the only one. Every amateur Jess Harvell (who's resigning from Pitchfork, incidentally) seems to be calling for the heads of... Well, who exactly? Is it the positive hype machine they've helped to contribute to? Is it anyone who's ever had a good word to say about an artist? Is it any kid who plays sheep to Pitchfork's shepherd? Is it the evil overlord Pitchfork itself? Who is at fault might be the question everybody's asking, but the better question might be Have we learned anything?

We here at Audiversity can't speak for the rest of the Internet, or the rest of the blogosphere, or even for each other at times. I can tell you that I've learned how dire the situation both is and is not. Because the Internet magnifies everything ten fold, the big issue with music "criticism" doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things... But it matters to someone, because every average music blog you visit has probably made some kind of commentary on it by now. Blogging is a delicate matter, a series of paradoxes and dead ends with no escape, a balance between hyping and critiquing, art and science, considered selections and impulse buys, writing and masturbating.

Therein lies the essence of what I've long suspected: We don't properly fit in with this discussion. The artists we like aren't getting paid much even when they do well. We're not ad-friendly. We don't want to get paid for two paragraphs of biographical information you could just as easily find on AllMusic. But we're also not going to write about artists we don't love because, why bother? Buddyhead flamed out because you can only be so angry for so long (and most of their "this sucks" mentality went to Vice, but that's another story). We don't hate not because it's no longer fashionable (though I suspect it'll be back soon) but because it's a waste of energy. My mother told me that if I didn't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all.

At last, then, we come to Japancakes. I like them. I like what they do. What they do: Country-tinged drone-rock. Lap-steel guitars twang with the dusty autumn evenings of a Texan sunset. Beautifully melodic, patient, instrumental songs that sound like every good post-rock band if they'd accurately captured that side of the American South that Explosions in the Sky try to hide with their brand: Quaint, modest, earnest, and endearing. When the fireworks are over and the moonshine is gone, Japancakes emerge as the sentimental side of every redneck who's ever put a "3" sticker on their Silverado.

It's this base sound that makes their selection of a very un-Southern record so thrilling: Kevin Shields and his kingdom of effects pedals never could have dreamt something so utterly simple, even in the base repetition forming the core of arguably the finest record of the 1990s. Critics give him credit for being a "sonic genius" because he is a perfectionist and a slave to your headphones. But credit is also due for being a maximalist, because Shields wasn't ready to quit until every last hair on your eardrum had been raised.

This Athens, Georgia band takes the opposite approach: Spare as much space as possible with the same material. Heather McIntosh's cello adds that extra string element that gives this such an organic feel. The key to their success in this instrumental reworking of the Irish band's 1991 classic is the organic feel that they have been exploring since early jam sessions in '97 playing the D-chord over and over again. Removed of the sonic intensity of the original, the Japancakes version sounds sweeping and classically grand without sounding self-indulgent and aurally over-the-top.

Japancakes are also releasing another album of their own material. It's called Giving Machines, and it is as good as 2004's Waking Hours which I remember enjoying a lot more than some people. But we're not going to review that. While this is a good band with a different take on drone-rock that they've been working on for years to great effect, when they come home from the studio or they finish up their workday or whatever it takes to pay their bills, they're just music fans.

Being a music lover levels the great playing field of listening. That's all any of us are (except corporate-driven yes-men), and a review of Loveless seems more appropriate at the moment than Giving Machines because covering Loveless is a labor of love rather than obligation. Fans crave fresh material. They do not ask for cover albums. Am I equating what we do here with Japancakes in the studio? Not entirely. But the thought is there.

Pierre Bayard, author of "How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read," in Sunday's New York Times Magazine:

You seem to believe that knowing a little bit about 100 literary classics is preferable to knowing one book intimately. I think a great reader is able to read from the first line to the last line; if you want to do that with some books, it’s necessary to skim other books. If you want to fall in love with someone, it’s necessary to meet many people. You see what I mean?

Bayard is of the same mentality as most bloggers, and it's this mentality that has had people giving up on the whole thing altogether to walk away and take a break, re-examine why they're spending countless hours blogging in the first place when other places are doing it faster and better. I know I've felt like that on a number of occasions this year. And everytime I've felt it, I've done it. I've just walked away and listened to John Cage's "4:33" and that's it. No strings attached.

This isn't a job. This isn't work. The day it becomes more than a hobby we have a great enthusiasm for is the day I start getting paid for something other than ad clicks. We want our enthusiasm to reflect in how we write and what we write about. We want you to understand that the reason we feature albums is either because we really love the artist, we really love the release, or we really love the label. We're going to stick by that, and if it means we have to endure a year with a rep for being "a Japancakes-loving blog," better that than "another blog that has no real long-term passion about anyone except the favorites you expect." Am I excited about Japancakes covering My Bloody Valentine... really?

Reading over this, I think I like Michael's response better: "yes i am." And it is fantastic.