by David Wilikofsky
I spent a large part of my early and mid twenties going to shows around Brooklyn at now defunct DIY institutions like Shea Stadium or Silent Barn. There was usually one band I knew on the bill, but everything else was a wild card. Sometimes a band I never heard before would blow me away. It’s clear that Oceanator would be one of those bands. On Things I Never Said, her debut album as Oceanator, Elise Okusami creates the kind of music that would have played best in those venues. It’s scrappy, melodic rock music that wears its heart on its sleeve.
What really makes these songs stand out is the writing. Okusami juxtaposes deeply personal, confessional songwriting against apocalyptic imagery. There’s a crack in the world that everyone falls through, fires that burn everything to the ground, and suns that will never come up again. Amidst all the chaos real life plays out, often marred by sadness and uncertainty. “Remember when you were a kid / And you thought by now you’d figure out most everything / But it’s all as confusing as ever and each day adds something new / And some of those things are bad enough that they almost crush you” Okusami sings on “A Crack In The World”. The plainspoken quality of the writing makes it hit even harder; there isn’t any mincing of words or beating around the bush, even in the face of catastrophic upheaval.
There’s a throughline of sadness and depression in all these songs that the imagery of end times only underscores. “Hide Away” uses a raging fire as a metaphor for a relationship; after the relationship is over, the fire goes out. “It got too hard to keep stoked and healthy / I feel too old, too stiff to move” she sings. Darkness even lingers at the edges of happier songs; on “I Would Find You,” which seems like a straightforward declaration of love, Okusami wonders if they’d even notice if the sun never came up again because they’ve been “hiding in the dark”. Yet through it all there are moments of hope. “Heartbeat,” an upbeat pop punk workout, is an ode to the joy a relationship can bring. “I’m going outside today / I’m feeling like things might be ok” Okusami sings on “Sunshine,” the final track of the album. Ending the album on this note underscores that the darkness will not win out.
There was a recent compilation of contemporary Japanese electronic music that billed its songs as “seeds of hope for the coming post-pandemic parties”. It’s a phrase I’ve been thinking about a lot as we inch closer to the milestone of half a year of quarantine, and it came to mind over and over as I listened to Things I Never Said over the past few weeks. These are songs that need to be heard live. I can feel the reverential silence that will fall over the venue when the band plays “Walk With You”. I can see the mosh pit that will form when the band blasts out “Heartbeat” late in their set. I can imagine the people who are going to leave that show and feel inspired to start a band of their own. These songs are that good. I can’t wait until I get the chance to see them performed live, but this album will certainly suffice until then.