Asobi Seksu translates as “playful sex”, I’m told. (Stupid yet obligatory joke ahead.) Well, OK, (stand by) I’m in favor of that. (Told ya.) Their sound sends me back to, say, 1987-88 or thereabouts. There’s the Cocteau Twins nature of Yuki’s vocals, for one thing. She’s got a range that’s very similar to that of Elizabeth Fraser, and they both sing in languages I don’t understand – Japanese in the case of Yuki, and whatever the hell it was that Ms. Fraser was using. Yuki also sings in English, but there’s enough reverb on her vocals to render them all but unintelligible most iof the time. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does kinda limit the extent of what I can review to their sound.

The band reminds me of any number of decent, competent, yet unremarkable groups that released albums in the post-REM/U2-breakthrough major label “alternative” signing frenzy. Wire Train is the first example that springs to mind; if you were around at the time, I’m sure you could come up with a dozen other examples of what I’m talking about. Swarming atmospheric guitars (James Hanna), some subtly swirling keyboards (Yuki), a busy little bass line (Haji), a fairly big drum sound (Mitch Spivak ) – not “80s production values” big, but big nonetheless – loud/soft dynamics galore, and plenty of reverb all over everything (produced by Chris Zane). I’ve seen comparisons made to My Bloody Valentine, which I can sorta see. I don’t find Asobi Seksu to be as overwhelming as MBV, but there are moments throughout (and just about all of “Red Sea”) where they head down a similarly dense road.

“New Years”, the song that sucked me in in the first place, is still gorgeously lush indie-pop after repeated plays. And, y’know, I liked the album the first few times I played it. Ultimately, though, the problem with Citrus is that the more I play it, the more derivative it seems. Not enough to kill the band for me, but close. It’s another entry in the neo-post-punk glut, if sonically more interesting than most. If you want to talk about it in terms of baked goods (and really, why not? I think more reviews should be done that way), Citrus is like a big fluffy cake. Not one of those nasty-ass sheet cakes you get at the supermarket, with the lard-based frosting and the plastic Harry Potter head stuck in one end; more of a layer cake with buttercream frosting and, say, raspberry filling. No matter how good the cake is, though, you wouldn’t want to eat the entire thing in one sitting. A slice at a time (or two or three, if we stretch the metaphor a bit) is okay.