Osaka, Japan's
Aunt Sally lasted little more than two years, but that was long enough for them to create their fiercely individualistic self-titled debut. Reissued several times after its initial release on Vanity Records in 1979 -- including a 2021 edition on New York's Mesh-Key label --
Aunt Sally is a cult favorite that offers a snapshot of post-punk at its most freewheeling. The band's leader,
Phew, was so inspired by the
Sex Pistols that at age 17, she traveled from Osaka to London to see them play; when she returned, she was determined to put her own stamp on punk music. In the beginning,
Aunt Sally played the
Who and
Ramones covers many up-and-coming punk bands cut their jagged teeth on, but this wasn't enough for
Phew. The group started writing their own songs, and
Aunt Sally shows they were much wilder and more inventive than the work of the acts that spurred
Phew to form a band in the first place. Occasionally, the album resembles more traditional notions of punk: The garagey organ and social commentary of "Subete Urimono" (which roughly translates to "everything's for sale") and spiky stylings of "Frank Ni" show the band has a thorough understanding of the genre's fundamentals. More often, though, they use punk's D.I.Y. attitude to take more daring creative leaps. On "Aunt Sally," guitarist Bikke's atonal attack zig-zags around
Phew's alto wails, and the way the song seems to tear itself apart is both fearsome and mesmerizing. It's followed by "Kagami," a playful deconstruction of the standard "Heart and Soul" that suggests just about anything is possible in
Aunt Sally's world. That includes an unnerving version of "Frere Jacques," which emerges from the winding melodic paths that Bikke,
Phew, and keyboardist Mayu take on the album's closing track "Loreley." Mayu's keyboards are the band's secret weapon on
Aunt Sally, allowing them to craft haunting waltzes like "Sameta Kajiba De" or breathy piano pop such as "Tenki." These wild shifts in mood and sound reflect a band unable to confine themselves to a genre as seemingly anarchic as punk, and foreshadow just how shape-shifting
Phew's career as a solo artist would be.
Aunt Sally disbanded just a few months after the album's release, but
Aunt Sally remains a bracing dispatch from a band that introduced one of the Japanese underground's most restless talents. ~ Heather Phares