Album Review: Jinnouchi Power — 'Home'

It can be difficult finding a sturdy, writerly “hook” for the idea of “home.” Sure, home is where the heart is, a man’s home is his castle, etc. But really, what new things can be said about finding your place in this world?

Well, as it turns out, there’s still plenty that you can sing about home.

This much is clear to Patrick MacCready, the engine behind Jinnouchi Power, which has been energizing the Des Moines arts and music scene for well over a decade now. Named after the spiritually evocative Jinnouchis of the 2009 anime Summer Wars, it is safe to say that the band has long been a conceptual project for MacCready. Home, the latest entry to Jinnouchi Power’s discography, is no exception to this rule.

The title track begins this record with gusts of overlapping conversation and cricketing found sound, anchored by a simple drum loop and buttery brassy synths. Though no other track on the album sounds quite like this intro, it deftly sets the tone for what is to come; you find yourself sitting squarely in the eye of a beautiful storm. But before you can get swept too far away, you are grounded by a stray, reassuring voice here and a sweet sound there, suddenly culminating in an endless echo of the words “I love you…” All to say, you can expect some chaotic good from this album.

A folk-tinged suite of psych rock soon follows, centered poetically around domestic bliss (“Systemagick”), the messy humanity of parenthood (“Parents”), and even the difficult life lessons you can learn from your pet fish (“Tank”). Most of the songs utilize strong, double-tracked walls of both acoustic and electric guitars, with Patrick’s lithe voice cutting straight through the mix. The listener finds themself leaning in, hanging onto every word of blankets and babies crying. Then they get their hair promptly blown back by the fuzzes and phases of some excellent guitar breaks (like on “Woods,” among several others).

Many of the songs lilt in waltz time. Surprising bursts of harmony abound, especially with the singles “Blanket” and “Wonder Wheel.” Home pairs nicely with the sweet neo-psychedelia of the ’90s and ’00s, albeit with a modern bent. As I was absorbing the album, I clocked echoes of the Flaming Lips, Dr. Dog and The Olivia Tremor Control (many of the Elephant 6 Collective’s various offshoots, for that matter). However, these comparisons don’t quite do MacCready’s artistic vision enough justice.

This album’s near hour-long sequence somehow distorts time and breezes right by, simply by holding a personal mirror up to the universal. Listeners will notice ideas and details about “home” that have always been there, just reflecting back with an updated sense of clarity, grace and wit.

MacCready and co. have helmed a project here that rewards repeated spins. Each playthrough makes the old new, and the new old. It feels endlessly familiar, but at the same time, a revitalizing place to be. It’s an apt title; it really does feel like going home.