It's no mean feat to work out the perfect song to act as an album's opener, let alone to attempt to write one for that specific purpose. Too often I find myself let down by a record which starts off on the wrong foot, doesn't even attempt to arrange the tracklist in a cohesive manner or, worst of all, commits the infuriating sin of putting the "single" down as the first track. That last practice is one I find particularly hard to understand - it's as though the band is immediately resigning themselves to the fact that they're going to be a one-hit-wonder, and so putting that hit first in a perversely illogical attempt to entice people into listening to the rest of the album - as though they would care about a one-hit-wonder instrumental band anyway!
As an individual example, I wholeheartedly adore Boy Is Fiction's self-titled release from 2007, but why on earth he put "BiF vs 307" as the first track when it is clearly his strongest song is absolutely beyond me. I sincerely doubt he was not aware of the strength of that particular track, not only because of the fact that it has remained as the first piece of music to be played when you visit his MySpace page since the album's release, but also because as an artist I suspect he is painfully aware of the strength and weaknesses of his music. Yet in arranging the tracklist, by placing it right at the beginning of the album he has made it seem as though everything is downhill from thereon in, whereas every single one of the other pieces is worth much more than a listen!
When an opening track seems to perfectly introduce and summarize the album as a whole, therefore, it instantly makes me feel more inclined towards each track that follows. I've always felt this to be the reason why both The Satellite Years by Hopesfall and Bars Closing Down by Milhaven have had such staying power for me. Both "Andromeda" and "New Orleans," respectively, act as the perfect introduction to the rest of the record, and generally make the whole affair feel far more complete.
Happily, One-Way Ticket To Candyland by MoHa! could not possibly have a more fitting opener than "It Burns Twice". The heavily-distorted drums and generally industrial sound carried by the scuzzy guitars, samples and double-kick act as a mouth-watering sampler for the rest of the album, without giving too much away. By the time it's finished you are left fully aware that the real meat is yet to come, and by God am I hungry!
The main course comes in the form of a selection of tracks made up of deliciously proggy rhythms and harsh stabs of noise reminiscent of The Locust and Space Mushrooms, while still managing to maintain a far more accessible feel than either of those bands. MoHa! are not grind, nor are they prog. They're just extremely noisy and damn good fun. Where some similar bands leave me wishing they'd break into straight time just for a spot of light relief every now and then, by far and away the stand-out moments on One-Way Ticket To Candyland are the rare occasions when an obvious repeated rhythm has been established, only for the two musicians involved to then sound as though they are frantically trying to escape such constraints. A particularly stunning example of what I'm trying to describe is to be found towards the end of "AIDS of Space", where the drums suddenly explode in a frenzy of slobbering snare rolls, barely leashed in by the previously-established beat.
There is no doubting that this is a fairly intense record, as well as one which makes me wonder what it would be like trying to hold a comprehensible conversation with the band, language barriers aside. However, if you can handle the intensity, I have no doubt you'll fall hook, line and sinker for this album in the same way as I did. If you can't, start off with the wonderfully eerie calmness of "Sopp Pa Kugenp" or the beginning of "The Shitman" and I feel sure you'll eventually be weaned onto the rest of the album. Just don't blame me if everything else suddenly sounds a whole lot duller by comparison!
-Fred Bevan