We Are Godzilla, You Are Japan

Fujiya: A Japanese brand of record players. Miyagi: The old, mystical guy from Karate Kid. Both are facets of Japan that make up the new and the old; traditional spirit contrasted with technological advancement. You’d be forgiven at this point for thinking that this band was from somewhere a little more easterly than Brighton, but you’d be mistaken. The music is hypnotically rhythmic, nearly tribal, but constantly tinged with subtle synths that drive the music into the modern dance arena.

The band explains that the name is simply a concoction born from the fact that it looked nice written down. After listening to Lightbulbs only once, that account sounds about right. Lyrics and meaning are not high on F&M’s agenda, but rather a subtle hypnosis formulated with the rumbling drum and bass combination, the jutting synthesiser and the delicately breathed vocals, where phonology and not ideology, is paramount. How else can a song about an ice-cream be so listenable? F&M’s view for detail is microscopic. Forget about Arctic Monkey’s ability to provide social commentary on nights out on the town, and think more about the composition of a Knickbocker Glory, purely because the words “Vanilla, strawberry, Knickerbocker glory” sound nice rolling one after the other. Uh has a chorus made up almost entirely of polite grunts, beautifully in time to the beat, creating a sound so simple it’s going to take a lot of Hot Chip to get it out of your head. More impressive again is Dishwasher, with its circling chorus of “just look inside your encyclopaedia”. There’s no political message, there’s not even a message of any kind; it just makes for an enchanting repetition that almost lulls you to a gentle sleep.

There is certainly a great uniqueness to the themes and structure of F&M’s sophomore effort, but it is painfully tiresome. Some people have described Fujiya and Miyagi as a dance band. The only context that this music would be a rousing joy would probably be within a morgue, such is the tempo. Don’t get me wrong, there’s a certain repetitive beat to each song that makes them irresistible to tap your feet to, but that’s as far as the dance would go. Imagine Friendly Fire’s On Board, but without the continual progression to a delicious crescendo. On every single song. At the end of each track, you’re left waiting for something big to come, but are left constantly disappointed that the band don’t seem to have the balls to make it happen. Lightbulbs is essentially the Cold War of music.

And it is a great shame that more isn’t made of the great strengths that F&M possess musically. Closing track Hundred and Thousands, an instrumental finishing touch to an album that began with Knickerbocker, displays the band at their inventive best; synths playfully lapping one over the other, always threatening to break free of the paceless shackles that hinder the rest of this album, but again ends up limp wristed and in need of an injection of courage, guts and power.

Fujiya and Miyagi are as an intimidating force as any musically, with their ability to create mesmerizing hooks at a whim, but seem to get too involved in subtle intricacies, and forget about the song. Mr. Miyagi once said, “Man who catch fly with chopstick accomplish anything”. Well that’s all well and good, but maybe these boys should just concentrate on writing some better songs.