Stereotype A – Cibo Matto
I downloaded ‘Stereotype A’ a long time ago, I don’t remember when. I saw an old Fantano video that said this was the best album of the 90s. What struck me is that Fantano looked gormless, he had no clue. But despite my intrigue I never took to it and got rid of it like a complete imbecile. I was still banging Eminem back then, so I guess I hadn’t developed an appreciation for the subtleties in life. Without a hint of exaggeration, this is the best thing I’ve heard this year. This is that moment of enlightenment I had at that first drop of purple Calpol or when I slipped my feet inside a pair of Geox and thought I was God’s sartorial gift. I downloaded it again recently after realising Miho Hatori voiced Noodle in Gorillaz’ self-titled album. ‘Stereotype A’ is the synthesis of everything I’ve been looking for. Or maybe it’s a combination of everything I love. Round my way we reserve a saying for this, and ‘Stereotype A’ is truly deserving of being ordained as the dog’s bollocks.
You may hear this and think “that’s all well and good, but the album cover is a crock of shite”. Fret not for I have a theory about album covers. The best albums have the worst album art. At least that’s the case for my favourite albums. The best rap album to grace my headphones was ‘Supreme Clientele’, a prime example of a dogshit album cover. The same applies to ‘Stereotype A’. Budget cover, great music. It’s actually budget to the point of being charming. It’s approachable. ‘Stereotype A’ is a wholesome, spontaneous date with a stranger, like ‘Lost in Translation’. It passes across you like a reverie, a sunny daydream. Nintendo-inspired opener ‘Working for Vacation’ is a timelapse of a city scape, the purest example of this feeling.
The album possesses a real beauty and tenderness. The dreamy, drifting production makes ‘Moonchild’ feel like a dedication to those random people you meet for a fleeting moment that you feel like you’ve known your whole life and disappear forever with a blink. Maybe they’re just apparitions at the foot of a pint glass, but as the chorus suggests, they ‘still live in my heart’. Or maybe the romantic guitar strumming is doing the heavy lifting. I heard ‘Stone’ during the rain after weeks of heatwave. It’s a sombre but comforting lament. I was standing in my t-shirt in the middle of Grosvenor Street whilst all the suits around me rushed to work. The rainwater was warm. It was surreal and I felt ‘3000 light years away’. ‘King of Silence’ is morphine, a pretty song about healing through human connection. It might be my favourite. If you don’t have someone and you feel like you need to be on a drip, have this song. In hindsight, I can see how Eminem’s catalogue didn’t brace me for this listening experience. Between slagging off his mum and his wife, there wasn’t much room for sentimentality.
Cibo Matto translates to crazy food for the linguistically challenged, which is apt as this album is a genre buffet. It’s predominantly indie pop, but there’s also hip hop, funk and even metal. ‘Spoon’ might be the catchiest track. It opens with a funky mission impossible style baseline and then pulls you onto the dancefloor by the bootstrap with an acid jazz horn breakdown. In another life Jay Kay would be prancing about to this in a ten-foot top hat. ‘Lint of Love’ sounds like someone had a wager as to how many genres can fit on a song. It starts as a funk track which gives way to a sudden rap verse and ends with a horn-backed metal riff. ‘Speechless’ could be a lost A Tribe Called Quest cut from ‘Low End Theory’ and ‘Clouds’ opens with beatboxing straight out of the realm of The Roots’ ‘Things Fall Apart’. And it’s not a pastiche, just supremely dope.
If that’s too vanilla, it gets freakier. ‘Sci-fi Wasabi’ sees Miho Hatori rapping over a beat crossed between El-P’s Cannibal Ox production and a demented fairground ride. But the brilliance of this track lies in the authenticity of the lyrics. Obi-Wan Kenobi gets name dropped a lot in hip hop, usually for a tired force related punchline. But here Miho is just having a chat with him in a lobby. Yeah, it’s a mundane image, but it never fails to make me smile. Then ‘Blue Train’ crowbars its way into the track listing. This is a pure doom metal track for the Eddie Halls of the world to deadlift to. The sped-up tempo of the chorus is what I imagine a shot of Wray & Nephews to eyeball feels like. Closer ‘Mortming’ is the black sheep. It’s a bizarre novelty in the way that a lot of closers are, but for an album so eclectic it’s no surprise. After the previous 50 odd minutes it’s a nice come down.
The album draws its charm from being grounded in the everyday. Consider some of the Cibo Matto’s metaphors. Hurdles to empathy become ‘spoons’ which stir away the ‘sugar cubes’ of love and connection. And in more of a ‘one love’, hippy sense, social divide is depicted as ‘lint’. It’s silly but endearing. There’s also a two-part track called ‘Sunday’ which explores the difficulties of accepting a mind-numbingly boring Sunday, especially when you desire company. The endearing simplicity is best summed up in ‘Flowers’ – ‘I want certain words more than a thousand flowers’. Those certain words represent the charm, the power and importance of a human connection removed from image and ego.
‘Stereotype A’ is a little-known gem that I have dug up out of the darkness. There are no music videos for this album and not much about the band online, at least from this period. That makes it very special to me. It’s one of those rare occasions that I have had a genuinely intimate listening experience. It’s not a new drop that you feel obliged to listen to just to join in conversations. Nor do I feel like I’ve come across a corner stone that everyone has passed by. This blog is a double-edged sword and I’m going to fall on it. I am excited to talk about it, but I am not eager to share and lessen its singular impact. As the former prevailed, I am reluctantly showing you this. So appreciate this gift.
