Nov. 12th, 2007

karanguni: (KINKI kids)
I love the Kinki boys, I do; but usually their music just doesn't coincide with what I usually listen to. So I let Phi stew unlistened to a bit longer than I would've a Takkitsuba album - but I opened it up tonight.

NGHGHGHHGH



The opening few tracks - lOve in the phi in particular - were very good. It's as though their composer finally stopped referencing Flaaaaaawaaaaaaaa and Grusaaaaasu no Shouuunen and updated their sound profile a bit. Lots of new hip hop and R&B sounding tracks, and with chillingly good vocals. Yeah, Kochan still sounds a bit like he's about to cry at some bits, but his coordination with Tsuyoshi and their harmony is *______________*; the EGDE of the WORD made me shiver all over.

BUT THEN I REACHED KOICHI'S SOLO SONG. I'm a Tsuyo-vocals fan but HOLY SHIT. Lose Control was not badly named at all. It's as though Kochan got put on some really happy drugs. And then made to watch porn for a few hours before being allowed into the recording studio. Seriously, it sounds like he's having phone sex with the mic. On first listen there were bits where I swore that he was just moaning a lot. Like, holy shit, Kochan manages to make audio sound fanservice-y. I've been LOOPING it for no good reason other than to sit and grin like an idiot.

Seriously. Seriously. Go, go, just go listen to it and nosebleed for yourself. And go buy Phi and push their sales, because this album needs to be fondled in physical glory. HMV, disappoint me not!

And here's some Nagase-baby on Domoto Kyoudai (2004) to help.

Change links from hxxp to http as usual!

This is a sexcellent an excellent way of recovering from sicknesseseses, yes it is precious.

 

A universe of unmapped grief and love
And new master light is beyond
The pleiades and plow and southern stars.

O soaring
Icarus of outworld, burn bright
The traceries of known skymarks,
Slide the highway planets behind
Your clear waxed wings.

Go conquer the everywhere left
Beyond your sad confinement
In a predicted bonehouse,
Witch thrown riddle of flesh
And water.

O soar until nothing
remains but great glittering holes
In the black godspun shirt over your head.

- John Fairfax