Album Review: 大日本昆虫記 by Tuttle & Dynamo Laboratory
Alright, let’s talk about 大日本昆虫記 (Dai Nippon Konchuki), the 1995 gem from Tuttle & Dynamo Laboratory. This Japanese electronic masterpiece is like a sonic insect safari—dub, future jazz, leftfield, downtempo, and trip-hop all rolled into one weirdly hypnotic package. Released under Pure Sand, it’s got that experimental edge you’d expect from the ‘90s but with a vibe that feels totally timeless.
First off, can we just appreciate the tracklist? Tracks like “Lupin III Part 2” and “Big Chief” are straight-up earworms. Let’s break it down real quick:
- “Lupin III Part 2”: Yo, this track is nuts. It’s smooth yet kinda chaotic at the same time, like someone decided to mix spy movie vibes with a smoky jazz lounge. The bassline hits hard, and there’s this sneaky little melody that worms its way into your brain. Honestly, I think I’ve listened to it on repeat for an hour without realizing. It’s got layers, man—like peeling back an onion, except instead of crying, you’re vibing super hard.
- “Big Chief”: Now THIS is where things get wild. If “Lupin III” was the chill intro, “Big Chief” is when the party really starts. There’s this tribal drumbeat that makes you wanna move, even if you’re just sitting in your room pretending not to dance. The synths have this dreamy, almost psychedelic quality—it’s like they took everything cool about dub and future jazz and threw it in a blender. You come out with something that sounds futuristic but still grounded, ya know?
The production creds go to S-Ken, who clearly knew what he was doing. And props to Wataru Sakamoto for engineering because, damn, the sound design here is tight. Also, shoutout to Studio Lean.Two for the design work; the whole aesthetic ties perfectly into the album’s quirky, bug-themed concept.
What sticks with me most about 大日本昆虫記 is how unpredictable it feels. One moment you’re cruising through downtempo beats, and the next you’re knee-deep in some leftfield madness. It’s like these guys were making music while looking through a kaleidoscope—or maybe after watching too many nature documentaries about bugs. Either way, it works.
Here’s the thing though: listening to this album kind of makes you wonder if insects secretly run the world. Like, what if ants invented dub before humans did? Or what if grasshoppers are actually composing trip-hop tracks underground somewhere? Who knows, right?
Anyway, give 大日本昆虫記 a spin if you’re into stuff that’s experimental but still accessible. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing cicadas in your sleep afterward.
