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Phew: S/T 12” (1981, Pass Records / 2021, P-Vine Records)
Newsletter readers and Japanese punk aficionados already know the 1979 album by Aunt Sally; I chose the Aunt Sally album as my staff pick in February 2022, and once we stocked copies of Mesh Key’s domestic reissue of that album at Sorry State, I wrote about it again as a featured release. Phew was Aunt Sally’s singer, and her first solo album from 1981 picks up the Aunt Sally story where we left off.
To get you back up to speed, here’s a quick refresher on Phew’s impossibly cool backstory. Intrigued by what she read about the Sex Pistols in the music press, she traveled to London in 1977 to see the band live. Inspired, she returned to Osaka, Japan, and started what must have been one of the first punk-influenced bands in Japan. However, like the first generation of post-Pistols bands in the UK, Aunt Sally didn’t imitate the Pistols but expanded on their sound, resulting in an album that sounds a lot more like post-punk.
After the Aunt Sally project ran out of steam, Phew began working under her own (stage) name, signing to Pass Records and recording her debut single with Ryuichi Sakamoto of Yellow Magic Orchestra. I hadn’t heard that single before I started researching this piece, but it was an immediate “add to wantlist.” Rich, dense, and experimental, it expands on the more interesting experimental aspects of the Aunt Sally album and sets the stage for the album I’m writing about today. Hopefully I can pick up a physical copy at some point and write about it in more detail for a future staff pick.
So this brings us to Phew. How do you follow up a first act as incredible as the Aunt Sally album? Flying to Germany and recording with famed producer Conny Plank and having Jaki Liebezeit and Holger Czukay of Can play on your album is a pretty good start. I’ve looked for information about how this group of musicians came together, but I haven’t turned up much in English. It just seems amazing to me. Even listening to both the Sex Pistols and Can circa 1980 was a notable achievement in coolness, but how did these musicians come to work together? I would love to know if anyone can offer more insight.
Circa 1981, Can was in a state of inactivity, the creative spark behind the project having largely gone out for their last few (mediocre) albums of the 1970s. Thus, it’s surprising they play with so much fire on Phew. Admittedly, though, if Jaki Liebezeit is playing drums on your album, it’s going to sound good, and he sounds great here. He’s one of those musicians who, if I see their name on a release, I am automatically interested, and his trademark style is on full display here. The album doesn’t list who played which instruments, but the rest of the sounds are full of rich, exciting textures, rhythms, and melodies. It’s tough to tell how they’re making these sounds, but there are synthesizers in play and perhaps some electronically treated sounds created from other (perhaps unconventional?) sources, which was consistent with Czukay’s m.o. at the time. This isn’t just soundscapes, though. Liebezeit’s drums always hold a steady groove, and Plank’s production is heavy to the point of being dub-ish, giving the tracks significant heft. That combination of deep grooves, dub heaviness, and bold experimentation resembles the first couple Public Image Ltd albums, and if you’re a fan of those, this is well worth checking out.
There isn’t a track on Phew that I skip, but I think it has a particularly strong ending. The third from the last song, “P-Adic,” is the most aggressive on the album, an uptempo synth-punk tune with driving drums and stabbing sequencer rhythms that recall Neu Deutsche Welle groups like D.A.F. If you liked the recent Die Letzten Ecken album we raved about earlier this year, this might be your favorite track on Phew. They follow that with “Doze,” a moody, atmospheric track with an eerie synth melody that might make you think of John Carpenter’s film music. The album then closes with “Circuit,” a short and futuristic, new age-ish instrumental that could have fit on an After Dinner or Kate Bush album.
If you’re intrigued, it shouldn’t be too difficult to lay your hands on a copy of Phew. The original pressing isn’t insanely expensive… you can get a copy in your hands for under a hundred dollars, though you’ll probably have to get it from Japan. This reissue on P-Vine Records seems to have gotten worldwide distribution, but like most of P-Vine’s releases, its price is steep, usually in the $40-$50 range. However, if you’re willing to plonk that down (I think Phewis worth every penny), you shouldn’t have too much trouble locating a copy from a seller in your country.