Kenji Kariu - Rain / Water

Toyko's Kenji Kariu is back with a fourth solo album of gently inventive, psychedelic space age pop. It's Kariu's second for Paris-based imprint Bruit Direct Disques, having released two records prior to that domestically via Japanese label Manso-Sha. Rain/Water makes perfect sense of its French context, a confluence of elegant, sophisticated songcraft reminiscent of indie/pop's sharpest magpies, Stereolab. Kariu indulges all manner of sonic detours, exploring bossa nova, ye-ye, ambient-pop, pacific exotica and the kind of subtly innovative recalibration of indiepop Maher Shalal Hash Baz excel at. As impressive as Kariu's mutability is, his songwriting is never showy, even if his intentions are ambitious. There's an easy deftness to these twelve songs that belies their complex arrangements, a dream-logic feel that's both effortless and exploratory. It reminds me a great deal of High Llama's best, Snowbug, and more recently, sophisto-pop interpolation of the Canterbury Scene sound of Sternpost's Ulrika or the earworm qualities of Peel Dream Magazine at their most lounge-core. Mostly, though, Rain/Water is evidence of a highly skilled songwriter comfortable enough in their own ability to know its best to show and not tell. The pudding is full of proof.