Maya Ongaku
I was captivated by the debut from Japanese trio Maya Ongaku. The band crafted moments of quietude lost between psychedelics and new age, doused in an ambient aura. The songs spoke to their origins, cut in calm moments in the back of the band’s shop in a sleepy seaside island town. The songs on the debut were humid, soaked condensation that coated the flute tones and hand percussion. Each cut curled around fragrant smoke, tinged with spiced cedar, linen, and wicker. On the follow-up, Electronic Phantoms, they don’t exactly turn their backs on the beginnings of the band but evolve towards a place of rhythm that’s still stained by the same smoke. The band seeks a balance with technology as they try to tame it.
They incorporate rhythm boxes, setting the audience in sway with persistent patter of the TR-8S. They add synth to the mix, saturating the air with CasioTone, Moog, and Hammond as often as the flutes, sax, and rain stick this time around. For most, it could come off as incongruous, a shift too far, but for Maya Ongaku it feels organic. The band turns towards a sound that weaves the natural through the fissures and fractures in the machines. It’s a fusion album with Laraaji in one corner and Alice in another, set adrift with Conny Plank filling the sails. The record experiments with more propulsive feats on the first half, then bridges the gaps with a three-part suite that slides seamlessly between the band’s works on the last album and the hypnotic motions of their new wave. One more reason to always keep an eye on the Guruguru Brain crowd and an incredible next step in their evolution.
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