Pitchfork

After years of practice, Shogun Kunitoki glide bliss first into the gorgeous keyboard tones and psychedelic ring modulator dervishes on their debut full-length, Tasankokaiku. Hailing from Helsinki, the Finnish electro-instrumentalist quartet downloaded their name in 1998 from a Commodore 64 game. Having long ago ditched 8-bit glitch soundtracks, Shogun Kunitoki here breezily mix the minimalist repetitions of Terry Riley with the analog shimmer of Broadcast or their propulsive forefathers, the United States of America.

Like the best of this sort of music, each track feels as if it could continue to infinity without losing steam. The aforementioned are good initial touchstones, but layers of sounds (and eras and ambient details) are tucked into each wordless piece. In a way, the density brings to mind M83 or other post-shoegaze progenitors, though instead of late-night fireworks, the overall vibe conjures someone squinting at the last few moments of a long day's sun. There's the lonesome joy of Ulrich Schnauss with more foreward tilted drumming, less crashing/rumbling/tumbling of the electro realm. Imagine Terry Riley's A Rainbow in Curved Air informed by Stereolab. On each track, the music maintains its forward trajectory, moving and expanding even during its most minimalist echoes.

Opener "Montezuma" exhibits the strongest dynamic sense. Compiled via variations and distortions of a single reiteration, it builds layers and pulses (with an almost Frogger underbelly), until drums kick in amid the wow and flutter and send it spiraling: Think of Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians colliding with Tortoise or Air. I've yet to catch Shogun Kunitoki live, but have heard they incorporate hand-painted, scratched, Stan Brakhage-style Super 8 loops into their show. The idea of multi-colored flickers communing with these synthesized pulsations seems straight-up euphoric.

Each track is comprised of similar ingredients, though paces and accents vary. Cut from the same dewy, psychedelic clothe, "Leivonen"'s last-minute tambourine suggests the invention of some Switched On the Doors series. Changing pace, "Tropiikin Kuuma Huuma" adopts a lilting waltz; Krautrock shakers frolic beneath dusted pulsations. With its moments of swirling noise and oscillating fireflies "Daniel" evokes a tangerine daydream. The odd song out, "Tulevaisuus Miinus Menneisyys = 1", is a stripped-down bridge-- a fleshier Silver Apples of the Moon. It's the most discordant track, swerving into a paranoid, cracked realm. Closer "Piste" begins with a spare, almost bell-like pace and loose-screw jangle until it begins its elegiac comedown. It's a lovely finale that finds Shogun Kunitoki taking flight before disappearing into the fog with one final distinct/period-like tone.

Because the album's on the typically great Fonal label (see, Es, Kiila, Paavoharju, Kemialliset Ystävät, and Islaja), the sleek packaging perfectly captures the mood-- a line of trees, a sinking sun, a single bird against the powder pink expanse, the symmetrical lines of an icy or fallow field. Likewise, the generous warmth of Shogun Kunitoki's sound mingles with the slight chill inherent in most instrumentals, creating the feel of gorgeous sunset. One of those where the sky's tinted purple and orange like melting candy.