With the departure of founder member and major contributor to their first two albums, multi-instrumentalist Yves Lennertz, the third release from global psych rockers YĪN YĪN was always going to be an intriguing one. Still, fans of the group should have no fear that, whilst adventurous sonic developments and newly-discovered pathways and explorations are clearly present, the musical baby upon which their reputation has been built has certainly not been thrown out with the bathwater.
For the uninitiated, this reputation has been predicated upon a plethora of eclectic influences across a range of styles and genres, but with specific reference to 1960s and 1970s Southeast Asian music. And this from a band originating from Maastricht, in Holland, a city adjacent to the Belgian border.
Indeed, it was in their own studio in the Belgian countryside that Mount Matsu was recorded by the four-piece, which now comprises co-founder Kees Berkers (drums), bassist from the group’s inception, Remy Scheren, Robbert Verwijlen (keys), and Erik Bandt (guitar), together with additional percussionists Jérôme Scheren and Jérôme Cardynaals, who also featured on the previous Age Of Aquarius release. Using analogue valve amps, retro-synthesisers and extremely productive ventures into the world of acoustic percussion, the creative process has taken on a much more democratic complexion, with the other group members joining Berkers in the songwriting from the get-go, as Bandt says, “It was a real adventure trying to capture the new ‘YĪN YĪN’ sound.” Collectively, they agree that the process was ultimately satisfying, making the ardour of ascent all the more worthwhile, hence the Mount Matsu title.
Whilst the mountain might be fictional, it is no coincidence that matsu translates from the Japanese as pine tree, symbolising rebirth and hope for the future—a symbolism not lost in their sweeping music.
Amongst the recognisable potpourri of sounds and influences to be encountered are surf music, soul, 80s disco, Southeast Asian psychedelia and funk, tribal rhythms and, reflecting the album’s title, a broader foray into Japanese motifs and musical culture, in particular sōkyoku, a style of Japanese classical music that gained popularity during the Edo period usually played with a koto, or as is the case here, a guzheng, its Chinese ancestor. Mainly instrumental, the music is intermittently coloured with muted vocal harmonies, “We’ve decided to only sparsely use vocals, which leaves plenty of room for the listener’s imagination. You can really let your fantasy run wild as you listen and dance to it,” says drummer Berkers. However, for those accepting Walmart’s categorisation of the album as “World / Reggae”, you may be disappointed.
With 2024’s Chinese New Year beginning on 15th February and Mount Matsu’s release scheduled for 19th January, the opening track, The Year of the Rabbit, which happens to be the current zodiacal animal, seems a more than appropriate jumping-off point. After several bars of exotic solo guitar, the track explodes with an insistent, thudding beat before developing expansive, wide-screen motifs replete with twangy surf guitar, swelling organ phrases and African/Caribbean percussive beats that meld to produce a melange of styles and sounds reminiscent of the mood created on their 2019 psych-rock release The Rabbit that Hunts Tigers, a view confirmed by their assertion that the track has “a classic moody YĪN YĪN vibe with a wink to our debut album.”
Further proof that the new band line-up has not entirely abandoned their earlier Moroder-esque, synthy, rhythm-machine sounds can be on two more offerings. The first, The Perseverance of Sano, apparently referencing Sano, a man who started his surfing career at 70, is a wonderful, symmetrically constructed piece. The opening dramatic surf sounds, followed by wallowing synths, think Tonto’s Expanding Head Band, overlaid with Dengue Fever style guitar shimmerings, are all underscored by meticulous percussion before the soaring psych guitar solo gives way to the earlier synth patterns—Southeast Asia psychedelic neo-surf synth-rock at its very best.
The second, White Storm, again presents as a surf-psych gem, all fulgurating guitars and floaty synth patterns, with a driving 6/8 afrobeat rhythm; imagine Takeshi Terauchi meeting Fela Kuti, again emphasising the cross-pollination of influences that have had a bearing on the quartet.
With The Year of the Tiger, the group not only continue with the psychedelic concept but also return to the lunisolar calendar with reference to the upcoming New Year’s animal. The simple, unadorned opening notes build in atmosphere, creating a dreamlike, shadowy, almost menacing feel, whilst the bass notes and drum beats, whilst insistent, in no way detract from the colourful lead guitar solos. A splendid listen.
The aforementioned up-tempo, funky, disco sounds are first apparent on Takahashi Timing. Opening cow-bell type percussion, possibly an agogô, chopped guitar chords, rippling runs, vocal refrains, and treated bass sounds create a groove akin to a nu-Chic emulator, with the later synth notes suggesting elements of Krautrock, whilst the closing bass lines are pure Nile Rodgers. “Never too late” indeed.
With Pia Dance, initially a cool, gentle track, oozing sweetness, wave upon wave of ambrosial sound abound, the repeated, simple lyrics may be kitsch in the extreme, but just when you think respite is in hand, the tune is re-energised with an even faster BPM rate and, for those of a certain vintage, surely I can’t be the only one who is instantly reminded of Aqua Marina from the closing credits to the 1960s Stingray children’s TV programme?
The third implicit invitation to the dancefloor comes by way of Tokyo Disko, nu-disco personified, with its swirly, echoey wah-wah guitar offering more than a nod to the theme from Shaft. Again, the percussion and bass provide a formidable backbone upon which the other infectious sounds, which include more 80s-style synth, can flourish.
The four tracks hitherto not discussed can all be considered under the “Japan-influenced” theme briefly mentioned earlier.
Komori Uta, the Japanese word for lullaby, is exotic, bordering on the erotic. Over dreamy, oriental sound patterns that would not be out of place on one of those musical rotating ballet-dancer jewellery boxes, the female breathless whispering, emulating the “Je t’aime” moanings of the sadly missed Jane Birkin, leaves little to the imagination, but also proves that, musically, Yin Yin are no one-trick pony.
A similar mood and atmosphere is created on the equally sultry Shiatsu for Dinner, where the balmy guitar notes, imagine Peter Green’s Albatross, and gently sung lyrics perfectly reflect the tension-relieving effects suggested in the titular massage. Tam Tam, “named after a girl we once met who couldn’t pronounce the word tamagotchi. This is what she said instead”, very much has a traditional Japanese folk feel, albeit with the intriguing addition of keyboard/synth/stylophone to the stringed instrumentation. The album ends on a similarly peaceful note with the mellow sounds of Kee’s guzheng, as we all set out on an almost transcendental journey Ascending to Matsu’s Height.
With Mount Matsu, YĪN YĪN have produced their most eclectic and adventurous album to date, the view from the top is well worth the ascent.
The band are on tour from this month, including UK dates in February. More details here: https://linktr.ee/yinyinband