Japanese outfit Nagisa Ni Te have been evolving their sunny brand of lounge psychedelia since 1995, and on their latest album fuse Stereolab's kitsch energy with songwriting that's got more in common with Brian Wilson or Japan's own Tenniscoats.
'Newocean' was released in Japan on Nagisa Ni Te's 25th anniversary, and serves as a reminder of the band's frothy style. The band has always rallied around vocalist/guitarist Shinji Shibayama and vocalist/drummer Masako Takeda's sublime interplay, building an instrumental backdrop to the harmonic back-and-forth that roots each song. This full-length is no different, and zeroes in on the band's most charming tendencies, bringing out their romantic weirdness and sunny disposition - even the cover looks bright and breezy.
For us, it's the tracks that feature Takeda on vocals that hit hardest: the title track is as restless and glassy as mid-90s Stereolab (there's even a farfisa freak-out! c'mon), and 'Psalm' is skeletal and beautiful, with Takeda barely even purring over sparse electric piano and even sparser percussion. The album's requisite rawk moments are fine, but when they allow themselves to get weird, Nagisa Ni Te really shine.
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Japanese outfit Nagisa Ni Te have been evolving their sunny brand of lounge psychedelia since 1995, and on their latest album fuse Stereolab's kitsch energy with songwriting that's got more in common with Brian Wilson or Japan's own Tenniscoats.
'Newocean' was released in Japan on Nagisa Ni Te's 25th anniversary, and serves as a reminder of the band's frothy style. The band has always rallied around vocalist/guitarist Shinji Shibayama and vocalist/drummer Masako Takeda's sublime interplay, building an instrumental backdrop to the harmonic back-and-forth that roots each song. This full-length is no different, and zeroes in on the band's most charming tendencies, bringing out their romantic weirdness and sunny disposition - even the cover looks bright and breezy.
For us, it's the tracks that feature Takeda on vocals that hit hardest: the title track is as restless and glassy as mid-90s Stereolab (there's even a farfisa freak-out! c'mon), and 'Psalm' is skeletal and beautiful, with Takeda barely even purring over sparse electric piano and even sparser percussion. The album's requisite rawk moments are fine, but when they allow themselves to get weird, Nagisa Ni Te really shine.
Japanese outfit Nagisa Ni Te have been evolving their sunny brand of lounge psychedelia since 1995, and on their latest album fuse Stereolab's kitsch energy with songwriting that's got more in common with Brian Wilson or Japan's own Tenniscoats.
'Newocean' was released in Japan on Nagisa Ni Te's 25th anniversary, and serves as a reminder of the band's frothy style. The band has always rallied around vocalist/guitarist Shinji Shibayama and vocalist/drummer Masako Takeda's sublime interplay, building an instrumental backdrop to the harmonic back-and-forth that roots each song. This full-length is no different, and zeroes in on the band's most charming tendencies, bringing out their romantic weirdness and sunny disposition - even the cover looks bright and breezy.
For us, it's the tracks that feature Takeda on vocals that hit hardest: the title track is as restless and glassy as mid-90s Stereolab (there's even a farfisa freak-out! c'mon), and 'Psalm' is skeletal and beautiful, with Takeda barely even purring over sparse electric piano and even sparser percussion. The album's requisite rawk moments are fine, but when they allow themselves to get weird, Nagisa Ni Te really shine.
Japanese outfit Nagisa Ni Te have been evolving their sunny brand of lounge psychedelia since 1995, and on their latest album fuse Stereolab's kitsch energy with songwriting that's got more in common with Brian Wilson or Japan's own Tenniscoats.
'Newocean' was released in Japan on Nagisa Ni Te's 25th anniversary, and serves as a reminder of the band's frothy style. The band has always rallied around vocalist/guitarist Shinji Shibayama and vocalist/drummer Masako Takeda's sublime interplay, building an instrumental backdrop to the harmonic back-and-forth that roots each song. This full-length is no different, and zeroes in on the band's most charming tendencies, bringing out their romantic weirdness and sunny disposition - even the cover looks bright and breezy.
For us, it's the tracks that feature Takeda on vocals that hit hardest: the title track is as restless and glassy as mid-90s Stereolab (there's even a farfisa freak-out! c'mon), and 'Psalm' is skeletal and beautiful, with Takeda barely even purring over sparse electric piano and even sparser percussion. The album's requisite rawk moments are fine, but when they allow themselves to get weird, Nagisa Ni Te really shine.