Music / Reviews
Review: Japanese Breakfast, O2 – ‘Immense drama, unbridled joy’
Michelle Zauner is having fun. That’s the impression that you get of what she describes as a “makeshift tour” of Japanese Breakfast’s new album For Melancholy Brunettes (& sad women), which has ended up at the O2 Academy.
They’ve managed not to misplace the smoke machines, the saxophone or the gong in Europe, despite having to leave behind a broken down bus, and grace Bristol with what looks like a collection of knick knacks and people found on tour.
Clad in layers of white tulle, Zauner lights a lamp, introduces the sleigh bell player, and she’s off.
Michelle Zauner is having a great time celebrating the band’s new album on what she’s called a ‘makeshift tour’ – photo: Esme Morgan-Jones
The set begins gently, with a run of songs from the new album: Here Is Someone, Orlando In Love and Honey Water. They are misty and half lit by the lamp but even in the dimness you can see the magic of her writing.
Orlando In Love rises with a strange luminescence, like an old chandelier that should have stopped working by now. A violin twirls beneath it with the delicacy of a ballroom dancer, weaving in and out of lyrics that whisper of desire and seduction.
Honey Water is heavier, with elements of shoegaze that separate it from the previous albums. They lean into the dense shimmeriness that bands like Beach House or Mazzy Star define themselves with, and it works beautifully, with just enough tenderness to balance the dirge at the depths of the tune.
The end is met with strobes, and guitar shredding, and theatrics; it is easy to forget in these moments that Zauner is one of the greatest lyricists of our generation, and yet not that easy.
Road Head follows this trinity of songs with the band’s distinctive bounciness. It dances to the rhythm of a lover’s heartbeat, drenched in festival glitter and woozy from a few drinks.
The blunt, grimy lyrics of ill-advised sex and distant relationships counter the sunshine melodies, ensuring that nothing ever becomes too sickly sweet; the world of Japanese Breakfast remains a little rough at the edges.
This is what people come for though, and during Boyish, everyone, no matter age or gender or look, sings back “if you don’t like how I look then leave”.
She writes songs that everyone can crawl into; coming down to grab hands and dance against the barrier, she brings the song to the people who need it most.
Even the slower tunes – Little Girl, Picture Window and Men In Bars for instance – don’t lose the immense amount of drama. At no point can softness ever be mistaken for weakness in this set, each song has layer upon layer built onto it until it ends in a cacophony of dry ice and scattered notes.
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The night ends, as is expected, with all the hits. Posing In Bondage ends the official set. It is in some ways lush and full, driven forwards by an unrelenting drum beat and bursting with instruments like a cinematic soundtrack.
In others, it is twisted and disturbing, the strobes flickering just a little too quickly, the cries of yearning a little too real. The longing hangs in the air for just a moment too long before Zauner comes back to the stage, alone.
Posing For Cars begins as a solo performance, a delicately plucked guitar and a hypnotising voice. It slowly introduces other instrumentalists to its midst, the hush turns to a hum turns to a howl.
Paprika sees the gong come into use, punctuating the dizzying swirl of a performance that is put on. It is ritualistic and boisterous and crescendos magnificently into Be Sweet. Both are an expression of unbridled joy.
This is fun. So much fun. Through the makeshift piles of instruments and (probably) ridiculous amounts of dry ice, that is what shines through. Japanese Breakfast are not only an incredible band, but an enormously good time.
Main image: Erin Crowley
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