4 out of 5

Label: HipHipHip

Produced by: HiM and Takayuki Osuki

God dammit, Doug Scharin, ん sucks.  No, no, of course it doesn’t.  But the Asian vocals and flute solo had me fooled, and had me brushing this off as indulgence and proclaiming the Totes Genius of past HiM albums.  I would go back and listen to those discs, and think – listen to that minimalism on Egg; listen to that jazz on the Perishable albums; to the tech on New Features; to the groove on Peoples…  And, oh, wait, HiM has always been about something else, hasn’t it?  It’s a band formed by a percussionist, Scharin, and so there will undoubtedly be some focus on that, but if you take a look at the ranges of styles this band has touched – as well as the countless other projects Scharin has been involved with – then perhaps it’s best to not go into the record thinking it should or shouldn’t sound like something.

So I switched out my ears for more patient ones and dug back in.  …And found, sincerely, a near flawless record.  The “island” instrumentation (marimba, steel drums, flute) automatically shifts the sound to one that seems poppier versus the Mice Parade influence of the Bubblecore albums, and it’s all too easy to let that wash over you for the runtime.  It’s a breeze; it’s a vacation.  And there’s nothing wrong with listening to it like that, but listening to it from a drumming perspective, from a composition perspective…  Wow.  It’s a rich album.  One that slyly blazes into extreme moments – harsh guitar solos, like on Abstract Ladder, pummeling drumming, like on closer Unfinished Stairs – while keeping the pace going and going.  The interplay of the drums – multiple drums on a couple tracks – with all of the other layers, including that flute, is intense, and it’s fascinating how tracks will shift tone on you ever so slightly.  Those Who Say’s 8 minutes lurches from lighter to heavier moments, back and forth until Scharin drums us out, and Clues To The Roots seems like it’s going to be a jam session until it slows up into an actual song.

A couple of tracks still feel like they stick to a certain Sterelab-ish just-in-it-for-the-beat – The Hidden Persuader, Makossa For Masako (which is like the most island track here) – and, taking up room in the middle of the disc, make the judgement I’d made up above a bit too easy, as, if you tune out after the first track, it’s at about the midpoint you’ll think to give it another go.  But otherwise, ん is another HiM experience, something that seems rather simple and carefree if you want it to be, but, if you go looking for it, can reveal layers and layers.