While far from unknown in the West (they even performed at Madison Square Garden), Luna Sea are hardly a household name, despite being one of the biggest rock bands of all time in Japan, and one of only a handful of acts to be afforded the dubious honor of being called "the Japanese U2." It's not an unfair comparison, though. Their stadium-sized, highly melodic anthems -- replete with chiming, tremoloed, reverbed guitar attack -- are most reminiscent of that band, and on this album, the comparison is even more marked, as they worked for the first time with a Western producer: Steve Lillywhite, best known for his work with U2. That said, there can be no accusations of copyism. Luna Sea are and very much have always been their own distinctive thing; they wouldn't have sold millions upon millions of records otherwise, and the similarities just come from being a product of the same era and the same set of influences. The group's influence on later generations of visual kei musicians, notably Alice Nine and DuelJewel, is immediately apparent. Now in their 30th year, while the group naturally lacks the power, drive, and freshness they had as young pups in the '90s and Ryuichi's voice is not what it once was, Luna Sea's songwriting skills are arguably at their peak. Opener "Luca" sports the album's most obvious U2 homage straight out of the gate, but later tracks show the breadth of the band's palette. The epic "Philia" mines the same retro-'80s synth-rock seam as fellow VK survivors Cali Gari, although on a much grander scale, while the aching solo-piano breakdown in the middle recalls peak Bowie. Faster rockers like "Closer" have singalong choruses and nifty solos that lift as much from '80s hair bands like Bon Jovi as anything else. While there's a bit of a mid-album lull, with tracks like "Anagram" and "Hisoubi" ("Tragic Beauty") that could reasonably be accused of plodding, there are enough great tracks -- like "Uchuu no Shi (Higher and Higher)" ("Poem of the Universe"), with its pounding drum tattoo, and "Pulse," with its awesome, rubbery bass line -- to get you on your feet. The mysterious, restrained "Seijaku" ("Silence") eventually soars into a grinding, proggy power ballad with an impassioned vocal performance, while the closing "So Tender" is simply heartrendingly beautiful. Die-hard fans of old-school Luna Sea probably won't like this, but for newcomers to the band who like '80s and '90s hard and soft rock, enjoy a bit of a proggy twist, and can cope with the language barrier, this is just a really great rock album.
© John D. Buchanan /TiVo