
Kimishima Haruna’s inventive world revolves round springtime, in each its renewing magnificence and its violent contrasts. The title of her 2018 studio debut, Haru To Shura, referenced each spring and a demon of conflict from Japanese folklore; her latest album, Shunka Ryougen, roughly interprets to “spring hearth lighting the sphere ablaze”; her stage identify, Haru Nemuri, means “spring slumber.” In parallel, Haru’s vibrant, euphoric J-pop is shot by with incongruous screams of fury, a vibrant juxtaposition of life and loss of life. Self-described as a poetry rapper, she performs with electrifying abandon, breathlessly illustrating the crush of her helplessness and existential anxiousness. Throughout Shunka Ryougen’s sprawling 21-song tracklist, her voluble poetry investigates destruction—whether or not to the surroundings, to authorities, or self-inflicted upon herself.
Haru’s sound is hemmed with an experimental, noise-rock edge, an eccentricity flavored with Aurora’s superlunary alt-pop, the wealthy element of Fugazi’s punk, and the proud “RIOT GRRRL” label in her Twitter bio. In 2018, Haru To Shura infused breakneck, upbeat J-pop with the sound of DIY reinvention. Shunka Ryougen sustains the voice and tempo, however takes on a colder, extra mechanical solid. Although it cycles a flurry of musical concepts, the document avoids overshadowing Haru’s presence; as a substitute, it really works alongside the searing dynamism of her voice. The cybernetic rhythm and Haru’s glacial Auto-Tune electrify tracks just like the erhu-tongued “Souzou Suru” and the eerily naked “Sister With Sisters.” The martial march of “Déconstruction,” a single threaded with references to Battle Membership, introduces Shunka Ryougen’s obsession with catalysts as Haru instructs: “Let’s begin our paradigm shift/Just like the undertaking mayhem.”
The recurring motif of déconstruction refers to Jacques Derrida’s philosophy of dismantling kind and medium to raised perceive ideas themselves, an thought Haru vibrantly reappropriates into the tangible context of her music. Frenzied, she fires off a litany of invective—spitting “asshole!” at a “pedigreed politician” on “Previous Long-established,” arguing with herself concerning the efficacy of her personal lyricism and punctuating the quarrel with a self-directed “shut the fuck up!” on “Coronary heart of Gold,” and personifying international warming as a flaming angel as she cries “Who the fuck is burning the forest?” on a observe of the identical identify. There’s an inexpressible depth of conviction in Haru’s supply; her voice is a finely reactive instrument that may change from a determined, out-of-breath invocation to a primal scream on the drop of a pin. When she asks, “Why do you wish to die? Why do you wish to reside?” on the title observe, her voice deepens right into a growl that knifes into her vocal cords. It’s so vivid you possibly can virtually really feel her gripping you by the collar and demanding a solution. Destruction isn’t solely exterior: “By no means Let You Go,” Shunka Ryougen’s crown jewel, deconstructs the very thought of Haru Nemuri—the shifting, self-destructive cry of its refrain confesses that Haru’s “complete physique is hoping to vanish.”