Shinobu’s magnum opus; Strange Spring Air’s nostalgic yet timeless glory
The line between indie and punk rock has increasingly blurred in the last decade. Bands like Joyce Manor, Lemuria and PUP have made names for themselves by combining the anthemic joy and pulsating energy with unorthodox guitar tones and stranger songwriting structures. A perfect example of this increased blending of these genres is the band Hard Girls. The San Jose trio (who are currently on tour with Jeff Rosenstock and Katie Ellen) are at the top of my list of bands to see live for a reason. Their sound is explosive to say the least; whether they’re slow-burning tracks like “Samizdat” or blistering headbangers like “996 Tears” (both on their most recent release A Thousand Surfaces,) there are few contemporary bands that share the energy and songwriting prowess of this band.
But even as they get covered by Modern Baseball or get featured in The AV Club, there’s a part of their history I wish would get more coverage; vocalist-guitarist Mike Huguenor’s first band, Shinobu. Formed in 2002, also in San Jose, Shinobu has yet to recieve success of the indie-punk bands formed in their wake, but I hope to change that. My discovery of this band was crucial for my foray into indie rock beyond The Strokes or Vampire Weekend, discovering a new world of music I had barely scratched the surface of. Described by Huguenor himself in a recent podcast interview as “too punk for the indie kids and too weird for the punk kids,” Shinobu has put out some killer records in their time, including what I would consider their best and most well-known, 2008’s Strange Spring Air. Downloaded on a whim from DIY legend Jeff Rosenstock’s donation-based record label Quote Unquote Records, my mind was blown.
I’ve listened to Shinobu obsessively over the last few months, and even though all of their albums are very strong, SSA is one I constantly find myself coming back to for good reason. It’s to the point I feel obligated to write a track-by-track dissection of it to explain exactly what clicks with me and this album in the hope of sharing it with the world.
The album opens with a short “Introduction” track, which is just a trombone being played without any real tune or melody, which sets a tone of sorts for Shinobu’s distinct quirkiness. It leads into Shinobu’s crown jewel song, “Teachers Get Tired.” A nice lo-fi indie gem that rings up memories of when I obsessively listened to Built to Spill or Pulp for the first times. It’s infectiously catchy, but has a harsh edge to it; a descriptor I would apply to a lot of Shinobu’s catalogue. There’s no better example of this than the guitarwork; one is jangly and noodly like a great Pavement track, while the other is blaring and rough like Shellac. The lyrics are also great, and set the tone of the album well; “unreliable mechanical eyes / trigger the movement and put it in drive” are some pretty rad lyrics to start off an album with.
Up next comes “Cetacean History,” a song that further demonstrates the appeal of Mike Huguenor’s lyrical style; essentially an allegory for Moby Dick, but lots of quaint personal melancholy one would get from a John K. Samson-type is sprinkled throughout. This lets the song double as both a relatable introspection and an isolated story at once for the listener. Huguenor’s lyrics are strengthened by a killer bassline and drumwork you can’t help but shake your hips at. The guitars are subdued throughout the verses, but explode into pure face-melting shreddage when Huguenor thrusts into the chorus with “BOWIE SAYS / ‘DON’T BELIEVE!’ ”
This track bleeds into “Sometimes I Wish I Were a Cat,” one of few tracks that don’t feature Huguenor on vocals, but does feature his obvious affection for Robert Pollard’s songwriting (with a splash of Cap’n Jazz.) The guitars are soaring yet anchored in lo-fidom, and there are small “mistakes” (such as an off-key note or out-of-time drum snare) that add to the appeal rather than detract. However, unlike Pollard’s trademark mysticism, the lyrics are contrastingly bright and happy-go-lucky, and it makes it hard not to smile along.
Huguenor comes back on vocal duties with the next track “Antarctic Stare,” which I often describe as the “best song Pavement never wrote.” The loose but well-orchestrated guitar jangles and soft-loud dynamic scream Stephen Malkmus to me. I feel the same way about the lyrics, written in the same cryptic-but-still-kind-of-relatable way the best songs off Brighten the Corners were (though the overall sound of this track would make it fit better on a Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain B-Sides disc.)
“Chase and Sanborn (A Quale of Friendship,)” the next song on the track-listing, would be an indie rock karaoke favorite if there were ever justice in this world. Some light keyboards tether spiraling guitar licks and lyrics about Arliss Howard and coffee taste-testing (while also bringing back the “mechanical eyes” imagery of Teachers Get Tired.) This gem of an indie-pop track, however, ends with a detached, increasingly obnoxious wall of guitar distortion, further proving how much this band loves Guided by Voices (in a good way; it’s not easy to pull off Pollard’s Dr. Frankenstein method of song bits randomly tacked on, but if there’s one thing Shinobu has proved by this point in the album, it’s they can wear their influences well.)
The wall then collapses into the punchy and punky track “Howard Melworm,” which per Huguenor in the track’s Bandcamp description, is, somehow, someone’s real name. This track is a tribute of sorts to a fictionalized version of whoever this man could be; most likely, a failing writer who only uses said failure to motivate himself further. I wonder why I enjoy this song so much…
As we reach the halfway point of the album, we get two interstitial tracks; “Colonial Kissing Booth” and “Montel.” They are very distinctively different tracks; “Colonial Kissing Booth” is a somber reading of a passage from George Gissing’s “The Whirlpool” on top of a limp-sounding guitar riff, while “Montel” is the exclamations of a very strange man Shinobu met on tour, on top of some distorted guitar licks. Despite being dissimilar tracks, neither feel entirely out of place, showing the strength of Shinobu’s songwriting variety. The next “stage” of the album starts with “Jeff Rosenstock’s ‘We’,” one of my favorites on the album (not just because it’s named after one of the best names in the punk rock scene.) The way the instruments stack on top of each other in the first minute to eventually unleash into lo-fi goodness is incredibly pleasing.
We then get another interstitial, “Nach Dem Truthan / Instrumental,” which sounds like some improv jamming from the band, like Archers of Loaf doing a Phish tribute (except 18 minutes shorter.) This is perhaps a fitting segue into the next song “Tiger!,” the longest song on the album. Despite being a chill, slacker-y song with some clear Built to Spill influence, this song strangely reminds me of Neutral Milk Hotel, with the fuzz being so distinct a layer in the mixing it’s almost its own instrument. The Jeff Mangum touch may be dim at best, but if all Shinobu’s catalog sounded like this, they wouldn’t have been to out-of-place at Elephant 6.
We then get blasted with vocals as angsty as the guitar riff it’s on top of with “Amor Fati.” The phrase Frederich Nietzsche made famous in The Gay Science is fitting; the lyrics are bleak and hopeless (there’s even an Elliot Smith reference to boot.) Despite this tonal and sonic shift on this song, the high energy and spacey synth part on this track don’t make it out of place with the rest of the album.
We then get two more interstitial tracks, 1995 Store Champion, a haunting spoken word piece (which was reused for a song for Huguenor’s other band Hard Girls,) and “The Heralding of the Moustache King,” a goofy 20-second track that sounds like it was played on a children’s toy keyboard. This song, fittingly, leads into “Moustache King,” a jangly singalong anthem of sorts, with some blaring heavy guitars interlaced at strange moments; imagine a Sebadoh song where J Mascis’s guitar suddenly swings in out of nowhere, more than once. It sounds like a nightmare in the wrong hands, but if you’ve listened all the way to the end, you know to trust Shinobu, and by the end of it, you’re far from disappointed.
And then the album is over, and all you want to do is listen to it again. At least that’s how I felt for weeks after listening to this album for the first time. I did just that, while also looking for bands that members cited as influences. Guided by Voices became more than just an IT Crowd punchline to me. I learned Jimmy Eat World were more than just that unbearable radio single. I actually listened to Fugazi rather than just blindly praising everything they did.
As one expands their musical horizons, the music you listened to before can retroactively seem worse. I experienced this during my punk phase; by the time I was obsessing over Jawbreaker and Dillinger Four, I could barely listen to Enema of the State. The same is true for some indie bands I’ve grown out of such as the Arctic Monkeys or The Decemberists. But even as I snootily clutch my Sleater-Kinney or Animal Collective records, Shinobu’s spastic energy is something that always makes them fun to revisit.
Although Shinobu is largely inactive nowadays, they released a new album early in 2015, and are playing some California shows in the near future. Maybe if we’re really lucky, we’ll get a complete tour and I’ll be able to see this incredible band at least once. Regardless of whether this happens or not, we’ll always have Strange Spring Air to obsessively attach to.
You can check out Strange Spring Air on Shinobu’s Bandcamp, or download it for free at Quote Unquote Records.
