おちゃんせんすぅす

The title sounds like a children's song, and that's not an accident — there's a playful, almost nursery-rhyme quality to the melodic hook, a circular lightness that keeps returning even as the guitar work underneath does something considerably more complicated. tricot has always been comfortable with contradiction, and "おちゃんせんすぅす" leans into it fully: the song feels warm and domestic on the surface, something about the small rituals of everyday life, the quiet comfort of a familiar routine, yet the rhythm section refuses to let it settle, constantly shifting the ground beneath what should be an easy listen. Ikkyu's voice here is softer than on many tricot tracks, almost conversational, as if she's sharing something half-remembered — a gentle intimacy that contrasts with the occasional sharp rhythmic pivot that reminds you whose band this is. The cultural texture is specifically Japanese in a way that resists translation: there's an aesthetic of wabi-sabi here, a comfort with impermanence tucked inside what appears to be a cheerful surface. It finds its audience in quiet weekend mornings, the kind of unhurried hours when you're doing something small with your hands — making tea, folding something, watching light change through a window — and you want sound that matches that strange, small contentment.