Review Summary: It’s a great album, Charlie Brown.
Look guys, we all do it: we all associate certain albums with particular times and moods. Generally it’s pretty subjective, with a few exceptions (American Football’s self-titled 1999 album is universally considered A Fall Album.) And most albums (at least for me) don’t feel so tied to any particular moment.
White Incarnation, however, is not one of those albums. It knows exactly what it is: the sound of autumn. I mean, for Pete’s sake, the first track is called “Colorful Pumpkin Fields!” And nothing says Autumn like a pumpkin field. Plus, the album cover is yellow-gold, like fall leaves! Turn on this album, and watch It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown two times, back to back, while listening. Everything will become clear (I leave it to your imagination as to whether or not I’ve ever actually done this.)
This is the album that takes The Pillows’ early jangle pop sound and hones it to perfection. Guitarist Yoshiaki Manabe is the star of the album from start to finish, his chimey Telecaster tones breathing a brisk October wind into the songs. The aforementioned opening track lays it all on the table: bouncy, upbeat songs with catchy guitar parts and earnest, but underdeveloped, vocals from Sawao Yamanaka.
White Incarnation is The Pillow’s most earnest album. It sounds like it could have been released in the mid to late eighties alongside other genre icons as The Smiths, The Pretenders, or The Sundays. Maybe not coincidentally, it was recorded in England. But despite the rough production and Yamanaka’s underdeveloped vocals, the great songwriting is hard to miss.
There’s more variety than one might expect, reflected in “Right Here Like This,” an early (and successful) attempt at power balladry The Pillows would master a few years later, and “I Want To Be Sullivan,” which sounds like what you’d get if The Beatles circa 1963 tried to write a punk rock song at a time traveler’s behest.
What’s really impressive about this album is how it’s simultaneously so intricate while maintaining its pop appeal. This is one reason why songs like the bossa nova-tinged “Hey, I Don’t Care” and “She’s My Sister” sound so good. Most of it, though, is because The Pillows are still discovering themselves, seemingly unencumbered by expectations of how they should sound. The resulting album is immediately striking over fifteen years after its release.
It’s too bad that in the years since, the band has never bothered to mine this album for ideas (1995’s Tiny Boat single might come the closest.) If nothing else, Yamanaka and friends might look to White Inspiration’s fastidiousness, its immaculately crafted songs reflective of a degree of care that’s often missing in their albums of the last decade-plus.
The closest thing to straightforward rock offered by White Incarnation would probably be “Our Halley’s Comet”, near the end of the album. It’s in between the delightfully jazzy “Tonight,” and jangly closer “Good Night,”, and shows the group’s nascent aspirations of rock and roll power, perfected in later songs like “Hybrid Rainbow” and “Crazy Sunshine.” To some degree, The Pillows cover almost everything at which they excel on White Incarnation. Several later albums are debatably better and certainly more iconic, but this record just might cast the net the widest - which makes its success all the more remarkable.
So do yourself a favor, man. Get yourself a tasty apple cider, go sit on a park bench in the park when all the leaves are changed, and listen to this record for a profoundly sublime experience. It’s the perfect (and seemingly contradictory union) of innocence and finesse. On a gut level, it feels like falling in love as a high school freshman, spurred on by refreshing autumn winds; or the nervous excitement of trick or treating, jumping into a big pile of leaves, or swaying in and out of a bonfire’s heat on a chilly November night. Don’t waste your autumn; listen to White Incarnation. It’s still one of The Pillows’ best albums.
