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Chita, the third album proper by Japanese guitar pop trio Usurabi, is their most elegant, stylish confection yet. Over the past four years, Toshimitsu Akiko (vocals, guitar), Kawaguchi Masami (bass) and Morohashi Shigeki (drums) have been recording, playing live, and releasing songs of rare melodic warmth, centring Toshimitsu’s unique musical vision, where melancholy and joy can co-exist, a split-second flick of her wrist switchblading the guitar from languorous sweetness to overloaded rock action.

Chita expands on the smartly sculpted pop and rock songs found on their previous albums, Remains Of The Light (2021) and Outside Of The World (2023), while infusing the music with more of the rough- housing energy that also coursed through the live CD, Once In A Red Room, they self-released in January 2024. There’s still a through-line, of course, that connects the music here to Toshimitsu’s earlier groups, Doodles and Animone, but Chita feels more deeply like a sussed, sharp take on the crumbling edges of sixties psychedelic folk and rock: the harmonica that blasts through the opener, “Bansho”, is pure Dylan in effect.

One of the many smart things about Usurabi, though, is that they never feel beholden to the historical moment. Soon after “Bansho”, we encounter “TurnOff”, a lush pop song that turns on a dime, with Toshimitsu tearing fuzztone notes from six strings that are like a more folk-reverent Kaneko Jutok. And there’s something about the guitar and bass riff that doubles through the thrilling two-and-a-half minutes of “Hakanonaka” that’s a dead ringer for the Only Ones. Flip the record, and things get more expansive, the spindly jangling of the title song spiralling ever inwards, before the sweet, sugary rush of “Kanata” resolves to the martial rhythms that pulse through “Aseranai”, winding the album down to its poetic, becalmed resolution.

»Outside of the world«, the second album by Japanese trio Usurabi, is a rare pleasure – a guitar pop album that’s deep with spirit, bristling with energy, melodically rich and precious: full of life. It’s even more thrilling than its predecessor, 2021’s Remains of the Light, also released by An’archives, its eight songs falling together just perfectly. If you’ve ever swooned to the sound of rattling, humming organs on countless ‘60s garage rock sides, the wistful beauty of David Roback and Kendra Smith’s music as Opal, the brittle immediacy of those 80s EPs from New Zealand acts like The Clean and The Chills, you’ll find plenty to love here.

The line-up’s still the same: the songs are written by Toshimitsu Akiko, previously a member of Doodles and Aminome; playing behind her is drummer Morohashi Shigeki and bass player Kawaguchi Masami, who’d previously played together in Kawaguchi’s legendary Broomdusters, where Kawaguchi really started to establish himself as one of Japan’s greatest rock guitarists. But Usurabi is very much Toshimitsu’s vehicle, a space for her to gift her gorgeous songs to the world, with Kawaguchi and Morohashi helping guide the songs into the light. Indeed, one thing that’s particularly noticeable about »Outside of the world« is the way all three musicians act in service to what the songs demand.

So »Meet again, outside of the worl«” opens the album with a beautiful 60s garage sway, all buzzing organs and Toshimitsu’s beautifully clear voice. »Even if it’s a lie« bristles with energy and tension, its driving rhythms recalling groups like The Feelies, but with Toshimitsu’s surf rock guitar riding the waves. »Pura« is pensive and melancholy, its graceful slow motion dissolving into a free-form section where Kawaguchi and Morohashi drill down into the earth, a fiercely responsive rhythm duo, while waves of coruscating noise guitar soar out into the ether; »Waves« is a stately closer, crushing guitars cossetting a slow, martial rhythm.

Recorded over 2021 and 2022, »Outside of the world« is a more than worthy follow-up to both »Remains of the Light «and the limited cassette, »Further closer«, released in 2022 on Kawaguchi’s Purifivia imprint. It has Usurabi stretching out, letting their songs breathe when they need, and tightening the screws on other songs so they become perfect pop statements. There’s plenty of joy and pleasure here, and a gentle but determined melancholy; inviting and beautifully sculpted, Outside of the world is a quiet masterpiece.

Edition of 400, comes in a 2 colors (gold & black) silkscreened on heavy jacket with obi (black or patterned light pink), with inserts and a postcard. Special A3 (fold out) full color & duotone insert by Andrew Chalk. Printed by Alan Sherry. Liner notes by Jon Dale.

An’archives present the debut album by Tokyo avant-pop duo Jyuriaano, Dreaming Glass. Consisting of Morimoto Ariomi and Cobalt, the two members of Jyuriaano have long histories in Japanese underground music. Morimoto’s history traces back to the late nineties; his nascent interests in noise collage and solo acoustic performance slowly transmuted to group endeavours, and more recently he’s performed with the likes of Akiko Toshimitsu (Usurabi), Maki Miura (Shizuka) and Doronco (Los Doroncos).

Cobalt has released a string of excellent singer-songwriter albums, many on his Poet Portraits label, which has also released material by the likes of Kazumi Nikaido, Place Called Space, Cuthberts, and moools, the latter of which he also performs with on occasion. While Morimoto and Cobalt have known each other for decades, they decided to form Jyuriaano in 2016, and since then have performed at live houses and small bars in Japan, all while slowly working together on their gentle, spirited songs.

The group’s formation story is typically playful – “It all started when we brought an acoustic guitar into the car on a rainy afternoon and started writing songs while eating Japanese sweets,” Cobalt recalls. That sense of play is important to the songs on Dreaming Glass, which vary wildly, from bright, infectious pop songs with a sixties lilt (“Dreaming Baby”, “How Close”), through slinky jazz-pop numbers (“Drawing A Nude”) to melancholy folk laments (“Erica”, “Night Window”). There’s something in Jyuriaano’s collaborative dynamic that gifts Morimoto and Cobalt a particularly open field, when it comes to their creative endeavours.

Some of this might also be down to their listening habits. When asked about their interest in Japanese folk precursors, legendary groups like Folk Crusaders and Itsutsu-no-Akai-Fusen, Cobalt agrees that they have a place in the duo’s listening pantheon, but that’s not where the story ends. “We’ve also listened to commercial folk music outside of those core genres,” he reflects, “We don’t just listen to one genre, but also rock and roll, noise industrial, punk, new wave, jazz, chanson, and more.”

You might also hear touches of groups like the forementioned Usurabi, or Maher Shalal Hash Baz, or songwriters like Kazumi Nikaido and Shintaro Sakamoto. But Jyuriaano’s songs, somehow, feel quite sui generis in the way they magic up alternative visions for pop’s possibilities. Dreaming Glass is, quite simply, a lovely, unpretentious joy of an album.