Stereo
New Toyko is Calling EP
[Fueled by Ramen]
Rating: 3.9
For what it's worth, I'm inspired by the serious academic criticism recently
gracing the pages of Pitchfork. I'm wondering, should I justify the
half-a-masters degree I earned, and actually take a risk? Sure. Why not
make some inroads on garnering the Robert Christgau Award for Excellence in
Semi-Readable Music Journalism with this possibly unbearable (but undoubtedly
groundbreaking) work of musical scholarship. Certainly, the Stereo may be
one of the most obscure low-brow pop bands in the world, and their
hyper-simplistic new EP, New Tokyo is Calling is the perfect subject
for my inaugural attempt at furrowed-brow rock criticism.
The group's name, the Stereo, is universal, ubiquitous, but unobtrusive; much
like other ubiquitous-but-unobtrusive familiar household objects-as-bandnames
such as Television, the Doors, the Shoes, Sneakers, the Box Tops, the Toasters,
Raydio, the Urinals, and the little-known ska outfit the Bookshelves. Are the
Stereo selling themselves as a weird sort of "band functioning as actual
mechanical sound filtration device?" Or is the moniker the Stereo simply an
effective universal "metaphor as marketing tool," offering the technologically
primitive consumer an easily recognizable historical reference to a simpler
age when one had merely a "stereo"-- no complex DVDs, CDs and DATs? The Stereo
want to be associated with an uncomplicated era and its uncomplicated music.
See, the Stereo want their music to seep into your daily life and become as
much a part of your unconscious routine as switching on a household appliance,
or reflexively turning on... the stereo. How will they effectively enter your
body and become one with your bio-rhythms and circulate through your veins?
First of all, they put into practice Aristotle's theory of art as mimesis (i.e.,
art as the imitation of life), or in this case, art as the imitation of the
Plimsouls, Asia, Loverboy, and Survivor.
New Tokyo is Calling may be a subtle reference to the Japanese/Asian
fashion craze pervading youth culture in the 1980's: rising-sun Kamikaze pilot
headbands, songs about "China girls" and young men "turning Japanese" from
constant masturbation. It's the Stereo's way of saying, in layman's terms,
"the eighties are back, and we're cashing in!" Also, clever recasting of
archetypal Everyman metaphors occurs often in these songs, as in, "I'm thinking
of ways to stack my cards so they won't fall." "You Were the One" even has a
chorus that smartly references Lionel Richie 1983 smash "You Are" to ensure
utmost '80s credibility and salability (as well as permanent subconscious
presence).
"Turn the Amp On" may also strike a positive consumer-related chord in the
collective unconscious of the jilted male, by cagily employing historically
effective pop song motifs and familiar boy-loses-girl scenarios to comfort
the sex-deprived male listener: in the song, the desperate boy pleads with
his girl on the phone and everything he says is "wrong." His relationship
dies on the line, yet hope prevails-- he still has access to that all-important
female-surrogate and coitus substitute: the guitar (an instrument both penile
and feminine, a hermaphroditic fantasy-object for the average male) and
amplifier. The male sexual frustration caused by the recalcitrant
closed-legged female is sublimated through the playing of loud
neighbor-angering power chords-- a palliating quasi-sexual experience common
in the lives of many a male homo erectus. Thus, another example of the sly
marketing genius of the Stereo.
In keeping with its guileless namesake, the Stereo boast the obvious sonic
formulas of a band craving temporal chart success in the face of future
ignominy, or at best, future obscurity. (Note the Mother-Goose rhymes,
monolithic barre chords, unchanging distorted guitar tone.) And the guitar
solos are so subliminal and brilliantly minimal that you soon realize,
"Zounds! There aren't any!" In its place is all that verse-chorus-verse
traditionalism, a singer with radio-ready voice that evokes Little River
Band nicety, and a lot of prefigured universal sentiments included to
alienate nary a soul in the mainstream record-buying public.
The Stereo possesses a substantial Kierkegaardian faith in the absurd,
which is absolutely necessary in the case of bands with sub-modest talent.
They seem assured that their ridiculous efforts on New Tokyo is Calling
will lead to a one- or two-year rollercoaster ride on the fast track to
fleeting rock stardom-- much like their ephemeral '80s heroes. My final
assessment? In the words of the great pessimist Nietzsche, "excellence is
rare." And, mind you, the Stereo is not excellent. But as Nietzsche often
said concerning Wagner's body of work, "Ja, it isn't great, but it doesn't
totally suck, either."
-Michael Sandlin