When Asobi Seksu's "Me & Mary" single dropped in late 2008, its whirlwind of thoughts, complex riffs and thematic opaqueness promised that Hush would be one of the best shoegaze records we'd ever see-this after many labeled the New York City band's second LP Citrus "as good a shoegaze record as you'll ever hear."
Thus it's disappointing when "Layers," the first and easily the weakest track on Hush appears. It's far removed from the fierce nature of "Me & Mary," taking its time in a way that Asobi Seksu previously never suggested, being soft and floaty instead of intense and unforgiving. And what are these cheesy dream-pop lyrics? "Dining on a rooftop?" Are you for serious? But once the second track, "Familiar Light," hits, your entire perception of the record changes: it's everything that you expected it to be. After this, Hush does not fail to satisfy.
This record's greatest boon is its ability to endlessly surprise us-"Familiar Light" never quits, propelled by a compellingly unique snare-based rhythm that leads us into not one, but two, or maybe even three bridges-either way, it's dense enough for us to lose count.
The time-signature twist at the end of "In the Sky" is almost too brilliant to wrap one's head around. Both Yuki Chikudate and James Hanna are classically trained musicians, so it's fitting that so many ideas and U-turns would be packed into this record. That being the case, Hush also lacks a stand-out single, but it's still very much a shoegaze record, noted in the beautifully overindulgent climaxes of "Mehnomae" and "I Can't See."
Ben Shapiro's distinctive percussion is another high mark for the album-it carries the entire third track, "Sing Tomorrow's Praise," pounding into us straight from the beginning, and then again at the end. On "Me & Mary," it's close to overbearing in its weight.
Animal Collective once said that sequencing an album is a giant pain, but Asobi Seksu nails that here-Yuki Chikudate sings in her saturated style for most of the record, but James Hanna comes in at the end of the rapturous "Glacially," which sets up perfectly for his taking over the verse on the monstrous "I Can't See."
True to form, Hush's closer, "Blind Little Rain," is its most singular. It's a bluesy tease of a composition, standing in contrast to the more accelerated rhythms that came before. And it comes on an album where Asobi Seksu have dropped all of their sensible Kevin Shields comparisons and come into their own as a band. Hush is one of those records that knows it's great, even containing one of those little ambient encores at the end of the last track.
