Japan is decidedly a fertile ground for weird electronica.
Coppé (pronounce Co-pa’y) is yet another example
that the music scene over there is piping hot with talents
unfortunately so unknown over here.
Born in Tokyo, Coppé spent her early life between
her native town and Honolulu, learning classical piano
and ballet, from the age of three. Now that she’s a
grown-up woman, she has left behind conventional music
to explore sounds in a complete different way. Coppé’s
universe is full of shooting stars, hideous monsters
and little girls in uniforms, her songs are twisted
spaced-out lullabies, with naïve and perverse lyrics
sung either in English or Japanese, and bouncy voice
samples, and comes wrapped-up in colourful flowery paper.
It is impossible to start describing what all this is
about, and rather wise to just follow and enjoy. Very
much like a kid left alone in a toy shop, Coppé
touches everything, tries everything, from floaty ambient
(Jelly Omelette, Vad, Mark B B.B.Gun),
to playful electronica (Jan&Jeff&Jungle
Curry, Urticaria, Vicohico),
and à-la-Squarepusher
drum’n bass (240, So Brillante’),
and still manages not only to keep the interest going
all the way through, but more importantly, she does
so with obvious joy and pleasure. Her genius hasn’t
gone completely unoticed over here, as Ed & Andy
Plaid give Coppe’
a hand by producing and remixing a couple of tracks.
An album like Peppermint is not easy to apprehend,
but once all boundaries are pushed away, there is not
limit to the enjoyment that the listener will experience,
time after time, by being surprised. This record never
sounds the same twice, keeps on pulling unexpected strings
left, right and centre, and ultimately, entertains as
much as it challenges the mind.
5/5 |
