Top 40 '90s albums, #34: Cornelius — Fantasma

I didn’t listen to Cornelius in the 1990s. I didn’t even really listen to Keigo Oyamada, the man behind Cornelius, in the 2010s, save maybe a couple plays of Fantasma. It isn’t really until recently that I started listening to Cornelius, and let me tell you, I missed out. I even had some very clear opportunities in the early 2000s to listen to more Cornelius, with a Japanese foreign exchange student friend of mine telling me about the band several times. I listened to him, but it never really set in, and while I’m relatively certain I downloaded this album, I didn’t listen more than once. I’m sorry: I should have listened to you and pushed through. This is good.

It’s a little surprising that it took me so long to get into this album. There have plenty of times over the last 15 or so years that I’ve read about Shibuya-kei, and I’ve long been curious about the genre. Cornelius is foundational to Shibuya-kei, and this album is widely considered the best of the genre. When I really got into City Pop in 2020, I revisited the genre, but only briefly. Why? I don’t know! I wish I knew.

See, this album is great. I mean, it’s weird, too, but it’s great. And maybe more than anything, it has some truly triumphant moments of pop music. “The Micro Disneycal World Tour” is chamber pop at its bouncing best; the harmonies wouldn’t be out of place on a Brian Wilson-led Beach Boys track. “Magoo Opening” is straight out of a 1960s Saturday morning cartoon but with even more frenetic energy and pacing. “Mic Check” feels so Haruomi Hosono inspired — and really, it’s hard to imagine this album without Hosono’s influence over Japanese pop.

Anyway, I still feel like I need to listen to this album more. Its melodies, harmonies, left-field aesthetic — it all works splendidly. And when I listen to it, it reminds me of that exchange student friend and that he actually really got the type of music I was listening to in 2003. I was just getting into The Beach Boys, chamber pop was on regular rotation (especially The High Llamas — more about them soon), and I loved pop music that challenged pop music sensibilities. (I wouldn't phrase it that way at the time, I suspect. "Pop music" in 2003 still sounded like a boy band thing. I was a teenager. "Indie pop," "chamber pop" and "twee pop" were much more acceptable in my eyes. I've learned a lot.)