Shugo Tokumaru
TOSS
Reviewed by: Max Miller
Shugo Tokumaru intended for TOSS to be a very simple album. Satisfied that his sixth album, In Focus?, had successfully combined the disparate sounds the Japanese songwriter and multi-instrumentalist had been crafting since his 2003 debut, Tokumaru planned his seventh album as a straightforward showcase of his songwriting, augmented by guest musicians. But somewhere between the genesis of that idea and the final version of TOSS, Tokumaru ended up with something that strays far from any notion of simplicity, in the best possible way.
Inspired by his orchestral collaborators, Tokumaru began to take the parts they recorded for him and spliced them into more complex entities — big, colorful Frankenstein-esque patchworks that bounce playfully from idea to idea. Satisfied with the results, Tokumaru had his guest musicians re-record their parts to reflect the inventful mash-ups he had made from them. The end result is a funhouse of bright, maximalist pop songs that recalls the likes of Illinois-era Sufjan Stevens or electronic wunderkind Max Tundra.
TOSS opens with “Lift,” which sounds, appropriately enough, like a spacecraft taking off as steady drums and peaking strings emulate a countdown. Close to a minute in, the rover has landed as the orchestral section launches into a jubilant instrumental break full of polyrhythmic phrases. Greg Saunier of Deerhoof played drums on much of the album, and he supplies the song’s tail-end with plenty of anthemic Keith Moon fills before the whole thing comes crashing down abruptly.
“Lita-Ruta” opens playfully, sounding like a broken music box before transitioning toward a verse full of repetitive horn stabs that sound like angry geese. Across the album, Tokumaru layers his vocals in classic Beach Boys style, and the waltz-like chorus of this song showcases some of his best vocal multi-tracking before the song takes another sudden left turn, as most songs on TOSS do.
It’s almost too tempting to just do a track-by-track breakdown of this record, as all the songs have their own constantly-shifting aesthetic full of surprises. From the swaggering, groovy “Taxi” to the stuttering plod of “Hollow,” there’s rarely too blatant a retread of ideas across the whole album — a true accomplishment. Instead, I’ll highlight a couple more of TOSS’s most entrancing moments and leave the rest of Tokumaru’s bag of tricks for the listener to discover in real time.
One of the most arresting tracks is certainly “Cheese Eye,” a constantly-shifting, almost entirely orchestral number that sounds like it should be the soundtrack to an old Merrie Melodies short. Every time it seems like it’s building toward unfolding into a more traditional pop song it veers into another cartoonish movement. The patient listener is rewarded, though, with “Hikageno,” a beautiful soft-rocker much more in line with the likes of Tokumaru’s 2010 breakthrough Port Entropy.
TOSS closes with the one-two punch of “Migiri” and “Bricolage Music.” The former is a sparse, lo-fi acoustic ballad that stands apart from the album’s usual overwhelming of the senses. The latter is a kaleidoscopic six-minute mission statement for the album preceding it. If “Migiri” gives the listener a break from the album’s playfulness, it’s only to prepare them for the sheer density of this closer. This song most closely reflects Tokumaru’s method of mashing up snippets of recordings his guests made, as chaotic split-second bursts of different sounds serve as a bed for uplifting vocal melodies. The song’s bridge is a mesmerizing collage that resembles an analog take on some of Oneohtrix Point Never’s more mind-boggling works.
It is truly a blessing that Shugo Tokumaru abandoned his intentions for a more straightforward album while crafting TOSS. The album stands as a pinnacle, surely within his own discography, and perhaps within avant-garde pop music in general. Tokumaru’s compositions rarely seem self-indulgent or too arty, and there is a rewarding depth to these songs that will have listeners coming back to discover new secrets hidden in its prismatic tapestry.
Rating: Iconic
