The Public – Shibuya Crossing

People listen to music for a variety of reasons: maybe your older sister was jamming out to it, maybe your friends are in the band, maybe you thought that Garden State was a good film and you listened to some stranger’s headphones in a waiting room. By and large, though, I think the music we continue to go back to excites us on some level. Even relaxing music, some people’s lives are so busy and hectic that the thought of relaxation must be thoroughly spine tingling. Old fuckers. Now, if you happen to be the type of person that feeds on the excitement of others, The Public are probably going to turn your key. The Public play a kind of post-Latterman shout-a-long poppy punk that is like audio caffeine. Now, here is just enough cynicism in the lyrics to separate it from audio glucose, which is only intend for children under the age of 12 whose metabolisms are still in high gear.

The Public’s debut album is entitled ‘Shibuya Crossing’, which is an actual intersection in Japan. It is a scramble intersection, which means car traffic stops so people can move in all directions. It isn’t too far a stretch to connect the album title with the musical content of the album. Songs like ‘The Breaks’ feature dual guitars that lock in step but then divert and intertwine before coming back together much in the tradition of Hot Water Music. If you’ve ever found yourself at such an intersection before, you’d recognise the bizarre rhythm in the throngs of human bodies coming at you from all over. It is something in the way the vocals suddenly step back in the mix at about the 1:39 mark of ‘The Breaks’ only to re-enter their previous position seconds later that is intentionally startling. Why would this musical approach or even the physical intersection of its namesake be startling? Because these boundaries are given a certain level of malleability, which gives a false sense of freedom before snapping you back to reality.

If the internet is to be believed, ‘Shibuya’ itself has a loose definition with uncertain origin, roughly meaning anywhere between “bitter valley” and “diarrhoea valley”. One might say it is loosely a diarrhoea valley. If the Public’s hyped up performance and bright songwriting don’t immediately bring to mind dark pools of misery, they contrast it with lyrics that pull at quiet disappointment and regret. Take the achingly specific musings of ‘Mexico’, “We saw Lucero in Kentucky./ I said I bought your ticket, but it was free./ So arrogant, so lonesome./ I felt the weight of the phrases and you sang along./ We watched Ben Nichols sing about his favorite girls.” Knowing what sad bastard music Lucero play, these lines are sure to bum you out and remind you of every time you sang along stupid happy to depressing lyrics. Someday you might sing along happily to this song as well.

Maybe The Public entitled their EP, ‘Shibuya Crossing’ because they just liked the sound of it and any reading beyond that is highfalutin faux-intellectualism. Either way, they have crafted an engaging and thoughtful collection of pop-punk tunes that is comparable to the likes of Iron Chic.

SLOANE DALEY