Review Summary: A short and satisfying piece of illusory dream pop: replete with tender dissociation.
The year was 2016: at the intersection of old school forums and modern social media the shoegaze revival was kicking off and interest in Japan-adjacent indie was reaching a fever pitch. An /mu/ user started a query on a no-name 2000 shoegaze album: Panchiko's D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L. Identifiable by its manga-influenced cover art it prompted an internet-wide hunt for its source - flinging the then-forgotten band into underground viral fame. Panchiko's debut was well received by the scene, as emotional and resonant (if uneven.) Now 25 years later the band is in full touring form with their third LP in tow. But without that sense of mystery behind the band's identity how do Panchiko stand on their own merit as veteran musicians?
They stand tall, it turns out. The album, Ginko, is a demonstration of honed maturity and professional form - not a proof of concept. The dreamy pop songwriting here oozes confidence, despite its melancholy tone. Shedding the word salad lyrics and mysterious air of their debut in favor of focused ingenuity - Ginko is compositionally tight and melodically gorgeous.
In terms of both writing and engineering this album stands above Panchiko's viral debut or its ponderous follow up. Its a magic trick, really. The band has honed itself to a melodically tight razor's edge - and polished it to a reflective, sentimental sheen. Introducing harmonic ideas in intimate whisper before bursting the mix open, engineering bright, shimmering choruses. In effect, triumphant pre-crescendos, they iterate on the intimate harmonic ideas that precede them with a simple calculus - setup: payoff.
Its engineering slight of hand pulled off with aplomb - the chorus to 'Honeycomb' or bridge to 'Ginko' tearing down their close velvet walls to drown the listener in sunlight. Paired with sharp writing, these tracks land their aural illusions with a confident prestige:
"Dry cured or love sick: its hard to depict."
"You'd have to cross the universe - to find something you're happy with."
The result is an album that consistently mesmerizes its listener. They cultivate a sense of spaciousness and introspection despite the majority of Ginko's tracks clocking in at under 3 minutes. In terms of genre, it stretches the definition of shoegaze, sharing more in common with Radiohead or MGMT than Slowdive or My Bloody Valentine. There is even a link to future funk - not stylistically but philosophically. The album hones in on its most resonant hooks, its most addictive samples, and then engineers spotlights under which they can shine and shimmer.
In terms of tone, Ginko presents as tender, empathic, and world weary. Meditating on connection and intimacy - and how one can navigate its labyrinth to a satisfying end. It concludes, in bittersweet tones, that lasting bonds are more a consequence of managed optimism and resilience than any singular triumph over adversity. Confined to a brief and measured indie/dream-pop format, Ginko's rich vocal layering grants these disaffected and introspective murmurs a sense of drama and epiphany:
"Please listen, you're not the only soul. There's another star in the open sky."
"A lonely sea we recognize,"
"There's another note on the fridge tonight - says we're doing fine in abstract lines."
In sum, Ginko is a beautiful album that serves as a testament to the band's maturation and holistic musical prowess. And yet it is a considerable step from their sprawling, cryptic, mysterious debut - and with that it loses some of its allure. The short runtime may be a product of discipline and experience, but it also leaves the listener wanting for more: and having to settle for less. The setup, the prestige...Ginko serves up tantalizingly brief moments of wonder, wrapped in a veneer of consummate showmanship.
Like any good magic trick, really.
