Hachiku : Hachiku
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Hachiku : Hachiku

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Hachiku’s debut self-titled EP is a collection of small mercies. The brainchild of do-it-yourself bedroom producer Anika Ostendorf, the record alternates between phosphorous pops of kindness and gentle, Borges-esque magic realism, in the process locating a cluster of intensely relatable musings on life, work and love within a unique world of Ostendorf’s own making.

A song about struggling to say what you mean to say ends up becoming a paean to the moon, a tune called Polar Bears becomes mired in remorse, and the husky exhale of EP opener, Zombie Slayer bursts with kernels of wisdom concerning both doomed relationships and the fighting of the undead. Not that the whole thing is some beardy, academic exercise, mind you. The five-track EP is, first and foremost, a work to be listened to, not mulled over. Choruses fuzz like aluminium foil against fillings, and Ostendorf expertly balances bursts of distortion with sweet, hummable melodies.

Ostendorf is interested in ordinariness and simple kindnesses; in the unfettered way we can live and talk when we try to. In that way, Hachiku is simultaneously of this world and yet dedicated to a better, simpler version one: like a thumbed second hand paperback full of fairy tales, it’s both hopeful and ever so slightly wearied; magical and yet deeply, thrillingly mundane.