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Well worth reading the press release for this one: two paragraphs and no sense whatsoever of what Drifting My Folklore might sound like. I highly approve of this, but should probably tell you a bit about the sound. It is difficult to be fair… Scrambling energetic electronic weirdo-pop sounds about right. Really good fun!

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Drifting My Folklore by Oorutaichi
1 review. Write a review for us »
7/10 Robin 21 January 2015

Parsed off to me by Clint with little enthusiasm and a sighed Animal Collective comparison, I’m not at all surprised that I just spent a good five minutes trying to work out what RPM Oorutaichi’s Drifting My Folklore should be played at. This is the kind of record that doesn’t really feel changed by speed: it’s too frantic, chaotic and endlessly colourful for you to be able to notice increments of anything, because everything is happening at once.

If you’re looking for Animal Collective, you’ll find their early, most potently obnoxious work as a freak folk act, only transposed for a glitch-pop band. Strands of the gut-spewing Danse Manatee and Spirit They’ve Gone can be heard here, with all sorts of bells and whistles imposing themselves on the otherwise rather dense palate of synth -- that sounds like it’s being played upside-down -- and maddening, Mr. Bungle-influenced percussion. Drifting My Folklore is a good title, because this record does sound strangely pastoral, with electronic twitches that sound like flutes and the occasional honest-to-god acoustic instrument that strays into the woods.

Oorutaichi are a lot of fun to listen to, because like a kid’s TV show, they make you feel like you can do anything you put your mind to (or take your mind out of). “MISEN Gymnastics” flits together the kind of delicate chords heard on the quieter moments of Flying Lotus albums with aerobic gang vocals and a leisurely beat that could at any moment start to crawl along the floor or explode outwards. The next song is scratchy, unclean noise with caged vocals and a Beefheart level of discordance, but it’s vying to escape and become a grand musical number.

There’s something strangely appealing about this nonsense: it certainly sounds codified with the freak folk abandon of AnCo, but there are also hints of the more pop-linear Ponytail and moments where you feel the whole of Drifting My Folklore could just be made up of interludes from an old prog rock album. It’s invigorating and unseemly. It sounds like dying on a video game every five seconds.



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