YORIE at 17th Tokyo International Music Market

As part of its mission to provide Japanese artists with a platform for overseas expansion, Tokyo International Music Market organisers have consistently reserved a handful of slots for acts outside the mainstream. Kobe-based trio YORIE - named for their mononymous frontwoman – fit this bill perfectly.

YORIE characterise their music style as ‘a mix of urban folk and soul’, a description that will baffle some as much as it intrigues others. Their eclectic sound certainly doesn’t seem to have hindered efforts to cultivate their overseas following. As Yorie discussed in the preshow interview, they’ve already toured Taiwan and South Korea and were set to hit Europe this year before COVID-19 interceded.

Standing barefoot in a floral red dress on the gloomy TIMM stage, acoustic guitar in hand, Yorie looked every bit the archetypal folk singer-songwriter. The understated opening of Gold Fish Bowl did little to subvert this initial impression. She strummed sparingly at her guitar whilst similarly shoeless bassist Taku Kawahara played his instrument so delicately, the bassline was almost inaudible over his bandmate's stop-start vocals.

After the first go-round of the chorus, behatted guitarist Yuki Fujimoto finally joined the fray, adding the most skeletal of riffs. The second chorus brought about even bigger changes, when a sudden jolt in energy (and volume) overcame the trio. Yorie brought the full force of her lungs to bear, belting out the lyrics as she strummed along with newfound intensity. Meanwhile, Yuki reeled off a fitful solo.

This generalised build-up in noise continued, with Yorie hollering over the din of overlapping guitars and her own looped vocals. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the storm dissipated. From there, the song ended in precisely the same manner that it started.

This restored tranquillity carried over into Shabon dama’s intro, dominated by wind sound effects and the jingling of a small bell Yorie dangled in front of her microphone. From there, the vocalist swayed gently as she strummed her guitar and sang in a smooth monotone. All the while, undulating synths gleamed in the background.

Taku’s limited involvement in the number did nothing to break his immersion in the music. Eyes closed, the bassist practically writhed in his seat as he seemed to feel every note resonate through his body. Yuki made his presence felt in the closing stages, adding a fleeting solo and aggressive chord progression to a wall of sound built upon Yorie’s layered vocal loops, culminating in a blackout.

When the lights came back up, it was to the unmistakable drone of a sitar. When Survive began in earnest, it was to the sound of Yorie’s yipping and a riff of vaguely West Asian origin from Yuki. A world away from the previous songs, the number took on the air of a tribal rite as Yorie chanted more than she sang, making full use of her considerable vocal gifts.

At some point, the music descended into a murky haze of distortion – courtesy of the heap of effects pedals at Yuki's bare feet – during which Yorie picked up a swanee whistle. Soon enough, however, the ritual resumed amid full-throated chants and strident strumming.

Then, as if they had just glimpsed the director offstage tapping his watch, YORIE suddenly froze as the song and with it, their performance, came to an abrupt halt.