Home: Home EP3

Surreal and haunting: Japanese Indie Band with the spirit of David Lynch

Llong live algorithms! Especially the ones that help you find gems in the vast universe of music. Thanks to YouTube’s neural network processing, I discovered this unique treasure.

If you love David Lynch, Hirokazu Kore-Eda and indie music ranging from Radiohead to… well, let’s not mislead anyone with false references. Let’s stop name-dropping. Let’s just call it HOME.

It has eclectic soundscapes ranging from electronic and psychedelic rock to hip-hop and D’n’B. It’s mixed with hard acoustics, Twin Peaks vibes, and subliminal yet heart-wrenching guitar (Gt: Shun), moving electronic and piano sequences (O-Pong), and an otherworldly voice by Seigetsu.

Formed in 2020, the Okinawian band HOME is… special.

To understand their entire Oeuvre, you should — this is a directive! — watch these five music videos from their newest album HOME EP3. It’s an EXPERIENCE. Like “The Wall” by Pink Floyd. Or Anima by “Radiohead”. Or… just watch it. And listen. Feel it.

The wonderful, mysterious, mesmerizing phenomenon behind these videos (directed by Kohei Yonaha and produced by Takeshi Higa) is that they tell different stories that are interconnected, like our life. Intratextuality. See my notes at the end. I don’t want to spoil it for you. Well, there are probably some spoilers: The first video left me feeling confused. I laughed at the third video, and couldn’t stop sobbing at the fifth one.

Videos (in the right order)

You can either follow the EP3 playlist of the band, or watch the videos in this blog directly.

HOME — blind believer

HOME — city punks

HOME — カマシ / kamashi

HOME — some candy talk

HOME — skin

My (very personal) interpretation — SPOILER ALERTS

You can skip this part if you stick to your interpretation. I just want to share with you my view.

Life is complicated. And weird. We are surrounded by people looking for meaning. Most of them are so called “Ossans” (オッサン, Japanese men in their later-middle age who prefer beer after a hard day’s work).

In “blind believer” we meet a lonely Ossan, sitting in a bar, let’s call him bar-Ossan, looking indifferently into the distance as a mysterious Femme Fatale approaches him. This enigmatic lady has power over water and fire (in “blind believer” and “kamashi” — and probably “skin” [at least for me]). She changes the reality of the “bar-Ossan” into a David Lynch-esque island of loneliness, floating within a dark void, with sporadic encounters with (for him) gigantic kids from “skin” and also gigantic the band HOME itself. Gigantic? Matter of perspective.

Out of desperation, he throws a Haniwa-alike figurine into the void — unaware of the devastating consequences it will have in the “skin”.

In “city punks” — we see city punks. It’s an energizing video outside of narratives. It’s a Zeitgeist, a genius loci of this weird world. Dangerous. Crazy. Chaotic.

“Kamashi (カマシ)” is a strange “road movie” in which a car with two ossans meanders through a park which is actually driving school area with simulated roads.

Suddenly, a hitchhiking couple carrying an enormous cuddly dog toy appears. The focused driver (probably the driving school student) tries to ignore them, but his jolly passenger (teacher?) begs him to let them in. Consequently, annoyed, the driver runs away, leaving the car in the middle of the street.

Is it a funny scene about people with difficult personalities? Or is it a melancholic parable about a couple being torn apart by the sudden emergence of their un/wanted children? The focussed driver just wants to maintain control over his life, but his vivid partner, the co-driver, is urging to have kids and is delighted about all high jinks at the back seat. Which causes a collaps within a family…

In “some candy talk” we have a premonition of a catastrophe without seeing it. A teenage girl is obsessed with a VR-like device, which makes her mother unhappy. Ironically, the girl finds kindred spirits among a traditional dance club of grandmothers. Meanwhile, her lonely mother is desperately looking for her.

We only get the full picture in “skin”.

Everyone has their own way of coping (or not coping) with grief. At first, we see an adorable happy Ossan (also: Father) coming home.

But on his way, he gets hit by a Haniwa figurine thrown by the “blind believer” Bar-Ossan. Father gets killed. (This hits me as well, I know what does it mean to lose a father…).

Suddenly alone, the family tries to process their loss in different ways. The mother cannot stop vacuuming the empty, cold apartment.

The daughter is lost in virtual reality (“some candy talk”).

Meanwhile, the son runs away and stumbles upon a group of kids who have discovered a strange, deserted “mini-bar” with a figurine-esque Bar-Ossan inside.

Does the boy know that this man caused the death of his father? He probably doesn’t, but after chatting with him for a while, he begins to smile. Bar-Ossan is cheering him up. It’s probably his first smile since his father’s death.

And the mother? She is out trying to find everyone.

She just wants to collect a family again. Even if it’s not complete. Even if it’s broken, she still wants to gather the rest of ‘em. To bring her daughter out of VR realms. To bring her son back from roaming across the streets.

And the bar-Ossan? He dances alone in his bar. A frenetic, uncontrollable dance. In a liminal space of loneliness. In affect. The final dance.

The five parts of EP3 are musically and visually striking, unique, burning into your hearts like a sun light through magnifying glass. It hits you in the gut, it let’s you chilled and disturbed, depressed and delighted. It’s about life. It’s about death. It’s about us.

Find the album EP3 by HOME here: HOME EP3 | HOME

All images are screen-shots from music videos of EP3.