Anika Ostendorf’s Hachiku project is anything but ordinary. It’s a revelation to listen to the skilful way these musicians assemble sounds, words and phrases, pulling disparate elements together into tightly knit, cohesive songs. From deceptively lo-fi, bedroom pop origins, their music inevitably seems to rise higher, defying expectations – and also temptations. It would, after all, be easy to rest on laurels: there’s a distinctive Hachiku style and so each of their songs could simply follow the formula.
On ‘The Joys of Being Pure at Heart’ – the second full-length record under the Hachiku moniker – Ostendorf takes the fundamentals of the project and elevates them, bedding them in deeper, rather than taking them as read. This is heard right from the start as opener ‘Don’t Put Your Head Underwater’ builds with utter confidence, layers on layers added, initially hushed vocals gaining in energy, but remaining in a laid-back and almost throwaway-casual state. It’s the kind of sensibility only a very accomplished musician could generate.
Ostendorf certainly has credibility in spades: her experience includes working with Courtney Barnett as well as Milk! Records. The debut Hachiku album (‘I’ll Probably Be Asleep’, 2020) allowed Ostendorf to display a distinct sense of freedom, an unabashedly quirky approach to building songs, painting with darkness and light. With ‘The Joys of Being Pure at Heart’, Ostendorf seems to have discovered a new plane of freedom.
That freedom, though, is not used recklessly; there’s an almost tangible feeling of care and thought displayed here. The movement from song to song is exceedingly well-judged. After the beautifully joyous opening track has faded, ‘Tell Your Friends You Love Them’ ups the tempo a little further. There is a brief gap between the two tracks, making way for a more dramatic opening sound in the second song, but this still feels like a segué as we hear similar sound themes continuing: the lo-fi beats and arpeggios, breathy-becoming-soaring vocals.
‘Keep On Swimming’ also uses the same sound palette but it’s a slower number, embellished with swathes of glittering sound as Ostendorf muses on life’s wending and contradictory journey. “I can see that I’ve outgrown,” she sings. So far, then, there’s a coherency across the opening of this album that serves to mark territory – Hachiku establishing a very real presence in our consciousness. But towards the end of this third track, there’s a sudden dissolution into rapid beats with distorted, jittery spoken-word samples before a brief return to the previous, gently lilting theme. Perhaps a portent of something different approaching…
—
—
‘Wild Eyed And Free’ does not immediately carry that through. It’s a little different perhaps, but still light, positive and swinging. With lyrics such as “Together, together, at last we’re together”, in another’s hands this song could be sugary and twee, but here it’s thoroughly true to form, fitting the Hachiku canon, mixing those words with a jittery rhythm and some unexpected turns.
Then, with ‘Do You Like What You See In Me’ (asked rhetorically sans question mark), at last it seems the darkness has arrived. We’re presented with grinding, fuzzy guitar sounds and a fear-tinged choice of key; there’s an unusual flute, which sounds haunting alongside tinny piano. But then a triumph of strings and a rich section opens out. “Look at me go… I like the sun on my skin, and I like the feeling I’m in” is the wholesome message shining through those elements of darkness. Similarly, Ostendorf plays with perceptions and expectations in the next track, ‘Victims of our own Demise’ – an ominous title, and hints of that, too, with the speech we hear later, but the primary feeling is of soaring triumph, as Ostendorf uses her voice more fully than ever.
Over the course of the album, as Ostendorf works through her attempt to understand “why a pure heart could cause you pain”, we’re brought to a place of realisation with her. It’s possible to stay open, curious – even joyful – in the face of the world’s terrible challenges. There are points of darkness, but we can and must confront them without fear of taint. ‘Time Wasted Worrying’ is the shining pinnacle of the record which embodies that realisation. It’s a beautiful and lilting anthem, comforting in its honesty and relatable messages, built around pure synths and crisp surging beats, with Ostendorf’s voice as a guiding force. If the album ended there, with only seven tracks, there’d probably be few complaints, such is the sense of arrival.
There are three more songs, though, and their placement means they have their work cut out. ‘What Rhymes With Serendipity’ feels like it may not achieve success, being more of a disjointed number and wielding experimentation in contrast to the more melodic tracks which have gone ahead. But towards the end, it becomes rich with strings (provided here, and elsewhere on the album, by The Newmarket Collective) and breaks through, then leading us into the rapid and rollicking ‘Fun For Everyone’. That song really is a lot of fun for the listener and clearly for Ostendorf too, who follows a driving electric guitar section with a whoop of joy.
It only remains for ‘Room For Everybody (Never Let Go of the Joy)’ to tie up the loose ends and reiterate the key message, as Ostendorf makes good use of the interplay between the main title and its parenthetical neighbour. It’s the joy of being pure at heart which we’re urged to hang on to in this densely packed song: electronic elements mixed with the distinctive sound of Mary Lattimore’s harp, rapid beats and call-and-response vocals.
Every Hachiku record feels like a unique gift, packaged with care and bringing with it essence of the giver. ‘The Joys of Being Pure at Heart’ is certainly that. The earworms you’ll hear are not conventional ones, but they’ll burrow deep and stick around for a long time; and perhaps some of those joys Ostendorf has uncovered will, too.
8/10
Words: Phil Taylor
—
