Album Review: 大嫌い by Blue Screen – A Glitchy Love Letter to the Digital Abyss
If you’ve ever wanted to feel like your brain is being gently massaged by a malfunctioning VHS player, then 大嫌い (that’s "Dai Kirai" for all you non-Japanese speakers out there) by Blue Screen is the album for you. Released in 2016 under Australia’s Sunset Grid label, this experimental gem dives headfirst into the swirling vortex of chillwave and vaporwave, with just enough electronic weirdness sprinkled on top to keep things interesting. And trust me—it works.
Let’s get one thing straight: Blue Screen isn’t here to hold your hand through some saccharine pop journey. Nope, they’re throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. Sometimes it's delicious; other times, it’s… well, still kinda cool because who doesn’t love watching someone throw spaghetti?
Track Highlights That Stuck With Me
First up, we’ve got “Yūrei”, which sounds like someone took an old horror movie soundtrack, ran it through a blender, and then hit “reverse” halfway through. The result? Pure spooky vibes but make it chill. It’s haunting without being over-the-top dramatic—like if Casper the Friendly Ghost decided he wanted to DJ at a lo-fi coffee shop. This track has stuck in my head not because it’s catchy per se, but because it feels like it’s whispering secrets from another dimension. Secrets I don’t fully understand, but hey, that’s part of the charm.
Then there’s “Ken Faito,” which might as well be renamed “The Song That Makes You Feel Like You’re Floating in a Neon Mall at 3 AM.” There’s something about the way the synths swell and fade that gives off major nostalgia for places you’ve never even been. Is it sad? Kinda. Is it beautiful? Absolutely. It’s like listening to a dream where everything’s slightly off-kilter, but you don’t mind because the colors are so dang pretty.
Why It Works (Mostly)
What makes 大嫌い stand out is its refusal to take itself too seriously. Sure, it flirts with pretentiousness now and then—who wouldn’t when working within genres like vaporwave? But Blue Screen keeps things grounded with moments of genuine creativity. Tracks like “Musen” and “Saishū Dorinku” experiment with pacing and texture in ways that feel fresh rather than forced. Even when it falters—and yeah, there are moments where the experimentation goes a bit too far—it does so with such confidence that you can’t help but admire the audacity.
Final Thoughts (and a Random Musing)
By the time the final notes of “Yokubō” fade away, you’re left with this strange sense of satisfaction, like you just binge-watched a series of abstract art films while sipping flat soda. Not everything lands perfectly, but that’s kind of the point. Life’s messy, and so is this album—but maybe that’s why it resonates.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: If Blue Screen ever made a music video for “Kureijī,” I’d bet good money it would feature slow-motion shots of shopping carts rolling down empty parking lots. Just saying.
So, should you listen to 大嫌い? If you’re into music that challenges your ears and occasionally confuses your soul, absolutely. But fair warning: after a few listens, you might start seeing glitch lines in real life. Coincidence? Probably. But also… maybe not.
