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More than once, I have been accosted on the street by random passers-by who grab me by the lapels (if I have them) and sputter, "Hey Dave, I've just heard a track by Unicorn and I really liked it. You claim to have all the albums, so tell me which one I should buy."
They seem slightly irritated at first when I cop out by saying that there isn't any "the One To Get" because there are three to get. But then I explain things and they let me go on my way, which is nice.
Eventually, I have come to realize that my lapels and I could save on a great deal of wear and tear if I could somehow contrive to make my orations on this subject available for all to behold. This web page is that contrivance, and I am welcome to it. (For those who are interested, I've also posted some opinions on the Unicorn videos.)
You will disagree with my choices, and you should write to me. I will post your remarks here beside mine (unless you instruct me otherwise) so all of creation can vote on who's right.
So, then, in my ever-so-esteemed opinion, I have identified three great gold trophies in the Unicorn bowling cabinet, and I personally can't pick between them. They would all go to the hypothetical desert island with me accompanied by Tamio's 29 and 30.
Chronologically:
Panic Attack (1988) is a one-disc course in rock songwriting -- eleven pure pop gems, any one of which could be a U.S. chart topper if it were to be re-released in English. Lots of ska and Fishbone moments. Obligatory pop evolution analogy comparison points: The Beatles: "Revolver," The Beach Boys: "Today," They Might Be Giants: "Lincoln." (It's not that it's like any of these albums, it's just that it occupies a similar place in the band's development.)
Then comes Hattori (1989). Never before or since have I encountered an album where the songs were more sytlistically dissimilar than the ones on "Hattori." There's a big orchestral overture and then a little Japanese girl sings out of tune before the background melts away and the thrash band kicks in. There's a reggae number, some arena rock, a latin club band, and a speedmetal extravagonzo with a full orchestra playing Arabian-flavored countermelodies. Very sophisticated use of the studio, and lots of laughs to boot, including the song that modulates repeatedly upwards until it's impossible to sing. Somewhat of an artistic breakthrough for the band, and my personal introduction to their canon. Comparison points: The Beatles: "Sgt. Pepper's," The Beach Boys: "Pet Sounds," TMBG: "Flood."
Their next album, Kedamono No Arashi (1990), is, in a way, a step backwards from the experimentalism of Hattori, but a tighter, more evenly focused set, and funnier than Hattori. Many subtle delights are to be found with headphones. If I absolutely had to pick one of the three it might be this one, though some days I'm sure it's Hattori. I understand it won some sort of award that the Japanese record industry doles out. Comparison points: Beatles: "Abbey Road," Beach Boys: "Friends," TMBG: "John Henry."
What's left? The other three albums and a pair of EPs recently released on a single CD are certainly not bad, and in fact there are some absolutely indispensible songs among them. But on an album-wide basis they've never had the impact on me the above three have. Someone out there is sure to disagree.
Chronologically, again:
Their first album, Boom (1987), is a touch too synth-y for my taste -- ironic for a band that, later on, favored old vintage keyboards over the state-of-the-art. But the songs sound simpler than they really are, and grow on you with repeated listening.
The two EPs of 1990, Odoru Kame Yapushi and Have A Nice Day, have recently been reissued by Sony as a single midpriced disc in somewhat ho-hum packaging. Yapushi is a trip around the world, from dance club electronics to Balinese kecak singers. Very artsy, and (comparatively) very Asian. Have A Nice Day is their American Roots-Rock EP, and masterfully done.
I have to admit that the band's last two albums, Hige To Boin (1991) and Springman (1993), have always left me somewhat confused and vaguely unsatisfied. They seem to dip between solid kick-ass rockers into some Bonzo-Dog-Band experimentalism that makes for sometimes uneven listening (c.f. Beatles: "White Album" or Beach Boys: "Smiley Smile").
Then there are the compilation albums. For my money, none of these offer a representative sample of the band's work because they skip over the weird stuff to get to all the straight-ahead hits. But that's the nature of compilations, I suppose.
The Very Best of Unicorn is a long (almost 80-minute) survey covering chronologically most of the album cuts released as singles, plus one single A-side ("Yuki-ga Furu Machi") not released on any album. It is, at the very least, comprehensive, and if I wasn't so prejudiced against Best-Of albums in general I'd probably rave up and down about it.
I find The Very Rust of Unicorn somewhat more valuable, though, because one of its two discs is live stuff ("Rust Live") -- although it certainly doesn't beat getting the concert films "Movie III" "Movie IV" and "Movie 5" and taping their soundtracks. As a matter of fact, bits of me suspect that some of Rust may have been lifted straight from the videos, but I have not yet sat down to confirm this. The other disc in the set ("Rust Best") is sort of a Greatest Hits Volume Two affair that fills in most of the album-tracks-released-as-singles that Very Best of omits. Too bad it doesn't hit "Otoshidama," the wonderful B-side of the "Yuki-ga Furu Machi" single, or any of the songs from the now-deleted 3-inch "mini album" EbiOkudaAbeNishikawaTeshima.
Lastly, there is Unicorn's Golden Half Special, which is seven or eight songs from Very Best of, each followed by the
same song sans vocals so you can take it to karaoke bars and pose.
This disc is otherwise only for true diehards who want to study the amazing instrumental work that the singing often masks (c.f. Beach Boys: "Stacks of Tracks").
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