Review Summary: A wholly unique reminder of what was and what will never be.
I have a very peculiar relationship with this LP. Once again "LP" should probably be in scare-quotes because just like Funwari-chan's last two outings
Funwari Laboratory is emphatically not an album. It's the third movement in a trilogy of too-small-to-be-LPs and too-big-to-be-EPs. It's an awkward place to be and more so to judge, but for convenience we'll just pretend it's an LP. Once again if you're not already familiar I recommend starting with the prior two movements in this trilogy,
with Funwari-chan! and
Funwari-chan with a cube.
If you're reading this you're hopefully already familiar with Funwari-chan's previous outings, but for those not here's a brief recap: Funwari-chan is the electronic soundtrack to a nature film directed by a lab grown AI whose knowledge of nature extends only as far as secondhand descriptions, lab reports, and a few too many conflatory stories about the concrete jungle. If that's not poignant enough, the titular Funwari-chan makes a token vocaloid appearance on each LP to wax wistful.
I've been listening to this LP off-and-on since shortly after its release and incessantly over the last the year and have frustratingly come to the conclusion that this LP, more than anything else, is enigmatic. Of the seven tracks in this LP, I have a crystal clear memory of the first minute of the opening and the closing two tracks, but nothing else. Normally this would be a major black mark; is there any crime worse than an LP being boring to the point of forgettable? But in this case I can't help but call this a feature, not a bug. It fits perfectly the LP's mood. This LP really is a mood.
As best I can ascertain the mood is that of a peculiar tension, followed by catharsis. While I cannot after dozens of hours worth of listens, even listening to the LP right now recall a single tune from the first five tracks, the moment it snaps to the sixth cut, "15%", my memory is crystalline. Over the last two LPs and five tracks, there's been this vague sense of creeping isolation, desolation without resolution. I'd never mentioned it in my previous reviews because it's subtle, subtle enough that I honestly never consciously noticed it, not even on my umpteenth listen to fluffy cube. Something that requires seeing the forest, not the trees. Now having finally seen it it's cliche as all hell, and yet I can't help but see parallels between Funwari-chan and her country and especially city of origin; bright, clean, pretty, but also cold, reserved, and artificial.
In this context the first part, that is the first 5/7 of the LP is so much white noise, white noise I ＳＴＩＬＬ can't articulate. Whatever it is its purpose seems to be remind us of and reinforce the hollowness of the last LP. Here we return to the mood. Saudade. I'm not proud to say that finding the exact word for the LP's mood necessitated a dictionary, but I think that saudade is the most concise description. Of course, you probably won't even notice the mood until it changes.
And now I have a confession to make. Everything from the first two reviews up to now has been a canard, I've been misrepresenting Funwari-chan. I heard
Funwari Laboratory first, and for the longest time rejected it entirely. Maybe I just wasn't used to challenging music, but it was all so much noise, and not just this album. But something kept bringing me back and eventually compelled me to write and rewrite this review. That something is the sixth track, the lynchpin upon which the entire album and I humbly submit the entire trilogy hangs upon.
A moment. Like a light switch; it happens that fast. From the high energy electronic discord of "XXVVII" to perfect tranquility you can feel the bottom fall out. Out of the tension, out of the LP, out of everything. This is the catharsis. It finally feels like Funwari-chan―and by extension us―is at peace. That this is the the earthiest and most organic track of the whole trilogy can't be a coincidence. The first time you hear this, I urge you to put on your headphones, close your eyes, breathe deep, and relax.
The catharsis carries into the final track "その木漏れ日は三次元上に" ; where we at last hear Funwari-chan offer us closure. It's a track with tones of melancholy and yearning, but over and beyond that is resolution from saudade to a brighter optimism. It's a very delicate tone, and poignant in its own right. It also feels intensely personal as Funwari-chan addresses "you" explicitly in its most sensitive moment. Whether the "you" is her addressing the listener or the creators confiding in Funwari-chan herself I can't say. I don't think it matters. My pop-philosophy interpretation is that Funwari-chan has been the vessel for struggle with an intangible saudade or 懐かしいこと, eventually coming to terms with the fundamental ephemerality of all or 物の哀れ. In a sentence, it's "this too, shall pass". It calls to mind the end of The Antlers'
Hospice, "Epilogue". Perhaps itself an epilogue to "Epilogue".
I realize this is quite a fruity review, and for your indulgence I'm endlessly grateful. I don't necessarily expect you to agree with my interpretation, but there is an essential point I'm trying to impress upon you. The key point is that there's a spark of life here, and that alone is enough to justify
Funwari Laboratory. The album and trilogy build a vaguely perceived yet specific kind of tense discomfort before granting a perfect catharsis in its final moments. If you'd indulge me one last time, the tension feels as the Cuban Missile Crisis or similar nuclear scare would, and the catharsis as the realization that crisis has been averted. In its own peculiar way
Funwari Laboratory takes you low so that in the last moments you can appreciate its high all the more, and for that I love it.
