Smokey & Miho
The Two EPs

The inspiration struck me while reviewing Yuka Honda, and I thought it would be worth introducing you to one of the best projects of her main collaborator. To be honest, I had already listened to this album some time ago, but at first, I gave up on reviewing it, almost assuming that a contribution on the subject was already present on Debaser. And yet, to my great satisfaction, I discovered that this authentic hidden gem had gone unnoticed, and I immediately seized the opportunity to say a few words about it; it is indeed one of the albums I've enjoyed the most in the last decade. A true delicacy, to tell the truth, of those that don't come around too often...

With Miho's voice, in reality, it was love at first listen, and not only because we're talking about another artist raised in Tokyo and its surroundings; what stands out is her sweet, clean, subtly sensual style, her being an alternative performer yet with the clear awareness of the traditional song modules, along with a melodic grasp and interpretative finesse not so common among singers who came from Punk (she is one of those, but it seems that at a young age, before moving to New York, she worked in a record store: the perfect environment to gain a sufficiently comprehensive musical education). And it's hard not to feel sympathy for her childish air, that vaguely tender and playful approach (in addition to being magnificently self-ironic) that is evident in all her performances; all qualities that Miss Hatori was able to transfer to the many albums she collaborated on, breezing with carefree lightness (perhaps nonchalance...?) from Synth-Pop to Garage-Rock, from the avant-garde salons of Manhattan, alongside the omnipresent John Zorn, to unusual ethnic temptations between Africa and Latin America. 

Here we find her in the company of Los Angeles guitarist Smokey Hormel, with whom Miho shares a unique and vibrant passion for Samba and Bossa Nova, and more generally for everything that comes from Brazil in the '60s and '70s (the cover itself is a nod, not even that subtle, to that era). A passion in common that the two discovered almost by chance, meeting during a tour at the end of the Nineties (for the record, Cibo Matto opened for Beck, and Hormel was in Beck's "backing band"). A collaboration from which two mini-albums were born, and in 2003, this collection that includes both of them (to which, unfortunately, there was no follow-up...). Ten pieces interpreted with passion and (inevitably, given the genre) nostalgia, amidst charming and decidedly "vintage" atmospheres that bring to mind the old vinyl records of Vinicius De Moraes (the Japanese's favorite), Caetano Veloso, and Antonio Carlos Jobim; Smokey's technique is impeccable in supporting Miho's delicate voice, which in turn is a caress for the ears: can you imagine an Arto Lindsay in a skirt...? (and alright, I know that the image, just thinking about it, is at the very least disturbing, but there's a lot of Arto here; of his solo and more "singer-songwriter" production, of course).

An indispensable philological clarification for the correct enjoyment of the work: the first five pieces, those drawn from the duo's second EP, all belong to the repertoire of the duo Baden Powell-De Moraes (the Lennon-McCartney of Bossa, if I may be allowed the comparison), and what are revisited, masterfully, are classics like "Tempo De Amor," "Consolacao," and "Bocoche"; marvels with a bittersweet flavor, enchanting in their swaying rhythm. Halfway through the album, therefore, it's already total ecstasy for the listener, even before savoring (but it's anything but a simple, candid side) four original compositions by Hatori-Hormel, plus a traditional ("Nzage"), embellished by the presence of the vibraphone, played by the guitarist himself; a guitarist who elsewhere also excels, with excellent results, on bass and Wurlitzer piano. But it is the Japanese who is the undisputed enchantress, with her evolutions, her soothing timbre, her languid almost "yawned" singing style at times.

It's not an easy album to obtain, that should be said, but absolutely worth seeking out, just like - I'll just hint at it, but maybe I'll return to it - Miho's solo debut ("Ecdysis," from 2005, also played - at least partly - in a "Carioca" key). But for now, listen to this one, and let me know...