Tête De Chou - Tête De Chou
An’archives are proud to announce the release of the debut album by Tête de Chou, the trio of Mark Anderson, Kurumi Kido, and Arlo Wynks. Some may know Anderson for his membership of Greymouth, 番長Taste, Mysteries Of Love, and Suishou No Fune; Kido and Wynks have more personal, sporadic musical histories, which informs the intimacy and gently exploratory nature of the eight pieces contained here.
The trio’s movements seem spontaneous and open-ended, which makes sense when you consider the organic way they came together, from drinking at their local yakitori joint, to Anderson and Wynks “mucking around as a duo in the studio on a semi-regular basis,” the former recalls. Kido joined when Wynks was staying at her and Anderson’s house in Japan. She was learning ichigenkin and shō, and when Anderson and Kido organised some small-scale shows in their tatami room, "extending that to us [three] making a bit of a freeform racket wasn’t a stretch,” says Anderson.
The album itself was built from material drawn from two recording sessions, one each in Japan and New Zealand, which were further augmented with field recordings, voice, and other interjections. Anderson reflects that, when Wynks took to the road for a period, the album “almost ended up a bit of a travel diary for him.” Wynks recalls the exchange flowed both ways: “Mark and Kurumi sent me recordings that I added things to and/or added to pre-existing things to create a few more tracks.”
That might explain the mobile terrain covered by the album. It’s an album of snapshots, at once vivid in their performance, and obscure in their methodology. Organ drones tussle with field recordings; thin streams of noise rub up against clanking metallics; whispering, wistful reeds drift alongside warping strings and a tickling glockenspiel. There’s a fair breadth to the instrumentation here: in addition to what’s already mentioned, you can add microphone, mini-amp, dulcimer, guitar, shehnai, violin, and ‘two-stringed goatophone’.
Placed together, the eight pieces here form an elliptical narrative that’s far from easy to pin down, but infinitely pleasurable to listen to, a kind of home-built, humble electro-acoustic pastorale, and an impressive, unexpected first shot across the bow.
An’archives are proud to announce the release of the debut album by Tête de Chou, the trio of Mark Anderson, Kurumi Kido, and Arlo Wynks. Some may know Anderson for his membership of Greymouth, 番長Taste, Mysteries Of Love, and Suishou No Fune; Kido and Wynks have more personal, sporadic musical histories, which informs the intimacy and gently exploratory nature of the eight pieces contained here.
The trio’s movements seem spontaneous and open-ended, which makes sense when you consider the organic way they came together, from drinking at their local yakitori joint, to Anderson and Wynks “mucking around as a duo in the studio on a semi-regular basis,” the former recalls. Kido joined when Wynks was staying at her and Anderson’s house in Japan. She was learning ichigenkin and shō, and when Anderson and Kido organised some small-scale shows in their tatami room, "extending that to us [three] making a bit of a freeform racket wasn’t a stretch,” says Anderson.
The album itself was built from material drawn from two recording sessions, one each in Japan and New Zealand, which were further augmented with field recordings, voice, and other interjections. Anderson reflects that, when Wynks took to the road for a period, the album “almost ended up a bit of a travel diary for him.” Wynks recalls the exchange flowed both ways: “Mark and Kurumi sent me recordings that I added things to and/or added to pre-existing things to create a few more tracks.”
That might explain the mobile terrain covered by the album. It’s an album of snapshots, at once vivid in their performance, and obscure in their methodology. Organ drones tussle with field recordings; thin streams of noise rub up against clanking metallics; whispering, wistful reeds drift alongside warping strings and a tickling glockenspiel. There’s a fair breadth to the instrumentation here: in addition to what’s already mentioned, you can add microphone, mini-amp, dulcimer, guitar, shehnai, violin, and ‘two-stringed goatophone’.
Placed together, the eight pieces here form an elliptical narrative that’s far from easy to pin down, but infinitely pleasurable to listen to, a kind of home-built, humble electro-acoustic pastorale, and an impressive, unexpected first shot across the bow.
An’archives are proud to announce the release of the debut album by Tête de Chou, the trio of Mark Anderson, Kurumi Kido, and Arlo Wynks. Some may know Anderson for his membership of Greymouth, 番長Taste, Mysteries Of Love, and Suishou No Fune; Kido and Wynks have more personal, sporadic musical histories, which informs the intimacy and gently exploratory nature of the eight pieces contained here.
The trio’s movements seem spontaneous and open-ended, which makes sense when you consider the organic way they came together, from drinking at their local yakitori joint, to Anderson and Wynks “mucking around as a duo in the studio on a semi-regular basis,” the former recalls. Kido joined when Wynks was staying at her and Anderson’s house in Japan. She was learning ichigenkin and shō, and when Anderson and Kido organised some small-scale shows in their tatami room, "extending that to us [three] making a bit of a freeform racket wasn’t a stretch,” says Anderson.
The album itself was built from material drawn from two recording sessions, one each in Japan and New Zealand, which were further augmented with field recordings, voice, and other interjections. Anderson reflects that, when Wynks took to the road for a period, the album “almost ended up a bit of a travel diary for him.” Wynks recalls the exchange flowed both ways: “Mark and Kurumi sent me recordings that I added things to and/or added to pre-existing things to create a few more tracks.”
That might explain the mobile terrain covered by the album. It’s an album of snapshots, at once vivid in their performance, and obscure in their methodology. Organ drones tussle with field recordings; thin streams of noise rub up against clanking metallics; whispering, wistful reeds drift alongside warping strings and a tickling glockenspiel. There’s a fair breadth to the instrumentation here: in addition to what’s already mentioned, you can add microphone, mini-amp, dulcimer, guitar, shehnai, violin, and ‘two-stringed goatophone’.
Placed together, the eight pieces here form an elliptical narrative that’s far from easy to pin down, but infinitely pleasurable to listen to, a kind of home-built, humble electro-acoustic pastorale, and an impressive, unexpected first shot across the bow.
