Otoboke Beaver channels folkloric theatricality through deep punk roots; the Kyoto quartet rides new wave of success aboard a pool floatie at 9:30 Club
Hailing from Japan and South Korea, respectively, Otoboke Beaver and Drinking Boys and Girls Choir brought the best of the Eastern punk scene to 9:30 Club last Sunday night. Since the pandemic, both bands have been growing a small but mighty American listenership.
DBGC’s 2021 release, Marriage License, showcases the group’s razor-sharp instrumentals and optimistic messaging. Lead singer and bassist Meena Bae writes diatonic anthems that unironically evoke early 2000’s Green Day or Blink-182 (minus the characteristic prepubescent boy humor). Her lyricism is simple; Bae’s words are spacious, yet transport the listener to a specific emotional locus. “There is no spring; Do you have something special?” the band sung in throaty harmony on a song from Marriage License. Speaking of singing, all three artists were able to nimbly transition between innocent K-pop style melodies and gang vocals whilst keeping up with dense instrumental textures.
DBGC met in the politically-conservative suburb of Daegu in 2007, where they made a pact to resist pressures to move to the city. In keeping with a loyalty to the underground that runs deep through the lineage of Eastern punk, DBGC remains based in Daegu to this day, where their messages of gender inclusivity and anti-classism are perhaps even more impactful. The highlight of their set was “Wish,” a heart-on-sleeve devotional for love and acceptance.
After a brief set change and a lil Avril sing-along moment, Otoboke Beaver ripped into “YAKITORI” like a joyfully sardonic cheer squad from hell. They wrote the song in response to Japanese critics who accused the band of catering to Western fetishization of their culture. In “YAKITORI,” Otoboke Beaver serves up a big middle finger to the critics with a mailbox full of skewered chicken on the side.
Each band member dons a Powerpuff-esque 60’s-inspired minidress, though the group’s performative style draws upon centuries-old theatrical forms. For such a high-octane act, the quartet solicited a great deal of silence between songs—risky business in a live setting where energy can drop so quickly. These empty spaces provided a fascinating window into the precision they’ve honed as an ensemble. Songs like “Leave me alone! No, stay with me!” were cued in by one quick breath. Lead vocalist Accorinrin patiently silenced the frenzied crowd with the same hand she used to casually slap her ass to the beat moments before. Guitarist Yoyoyoshie struck grotesque mie-like poses, a technique straight out of kabuki theater. The connection between kabuki and punk has been explored to some degree by academics—kabuki originated as a subversive art form but was then heavily censored, at which point only men were allowed to perform publicly. The band has also mentioned the fast-paced call-and-response of manzai comedy as a strong influence on their writing style. In their cultish choreography and gender-bendy vocals, Otoboke Beaver has internalized these storytelling traditions.
Their 2022 release, Super Champon, is a punky mathcore tour de force which features some of the most virtuosic drum set playing ever recorded in any genre, courtesy of Kahokiss. In “Pardon,” the quartet transitions between contrasting meters, creating a rhythmic whiplash effect. Many other bands have used subdivision and hypermeter to connect different tempi, but their attempts don’t come close to what Otoboke Beaver is able to achieve. Ok, it’s not a band, but J.S. Bach was really good at this (Beavers, you’re in good company).
You have got to listen to Super Champon front to back and, more importantly, you must see this band live. The energy of Otoboke Beaver is elemental. Oh, and Yoyoyoshie crowdsurfs on an inner tube shaped like a beaver. Accorinrin, Yoyoyoshie, Hirochan, and Kahokiss are Powerpuff-ish in the mutant sense, their musical superpowers certainly strong enough to ward off your average hater (or evil spirit).
