I first heard Viva! La Woman in a friend’s kitchen. Rain hit the window. The pan sizzled. Sugar Water floated in, soft and warm. I stopped stirring noodles and just stood there. You know what? It felt like a dream I could taste.
If, like me, you end up craving every scrap of lore behind these tracks, swing by Yeah Basically Cibo Matto for a rabbit hole worth falling into.
If you’d like the full, slightly messy diary of that first spin, I spilled it all here.
How It Found Me
A month later, I grabbed the yellow CD at a used shop. The cover looked like an old ad. I tossed it in my beat-up Sony Discman on the bus home. Small skip. Big smile. That became a thing for me—this album riding along while life wobbled. (For liner-note lovers, Rhino has a concise write-up of the release here.)
What It Sounds Like (To My Ears)
It’s hip-hop beats with a lounge glow. It’s sweet and strange. English and Japanese flow back and forth. Samples crackle. The bass feels round, not huge. The drums thump, like a dusty rug getting a good shake. Some tracks whisper; some tracks yell. Sometimes in the same minute. Odd? Yes. But charming.
Miho Hatori sings with this cool hush. Yuka Honda layers sounds like spices. A little pepper here. A sugar splash there. I heard Sean Lennon on some parts too, which fits the New York swirl they had going then.
Songs That Stuck To My Day
- Sugar Water: I put this on when I wash dishes. The beat moves like slow rain down glass. I once watched the split-screen music video again—the one that runs forward and backward. Still magic. I hum that gentle chorus while stacking bowls.
- Know Your Chicken: This is my stir-fry track. I chop garlic in time with the groove. It’s goofy on purpose. I brought it to a picnic. Half my friends asked, “What is this?” Then they nodded along anyway.
- Birthday Cake: Chaos. Screams. I love it for two minutes, then I need water. I blasted it once on a Saturday morning. My upstairs neighbor stomped. Fair. I later let the song hijack my entire kitchen routine (long story).
- Beef Jerky: A loop, a walk, a head bob. I used it to pace my steps on a late-night grocery run. It kept me moving in a small, steady way. I even spent a whole week living with nothing but that track looping (proof right here).
- Apple: Gentle and odd. I played it on a bus ride in winter. The city looked soft and far away.
- White Pepper Ice Cream: Cold and sweet. Kind of spacey. I like this one on headphones. The little clicks and chimes feel close.
Not every track hits the same. That’s part of the charm. And, yeah, part of the mess.
Where It Clicked For Me
One night I was making ramen with a soft-boiled egg. Steam on my glasses. The hook from Sugar Water rolled in. I slowed down and stirred like I had all the time in the world. It turned my tiny kitchen into a late-night cafe. Even my old IKEA cutting board seemed fancy.
Weeks later, I tried this album on a road trip in my 2007 Corolla. That car has thin speakers. On some songs, the bass faded. The vocals sat fine, though, so no big deal. I ended up saving the loud tracks for city streets and the soft ones for the highway.
That stretch turned into its own little diary—seven days of weird, warm, weird again vibes (documented here).
That same trek eventually landed me in southern Wisconsin, and by the time I rolled into Janesville my shoulders felt like over-kneaded dough. While hunting for a reliable place to unknot them, I stumbled across the locally focused Rubmaps Janesville guide—a handy directory packed with addresses, hours, and candid user notes that made picking a legit massage spot (and dodging the duds) hilariously easy.
Little Things I Noticed
- The mix is warm. Not very bright. On cheap earbuds, some detail gets lost.
- The lyrics love food. Not just as jokes, but as moods. It can feel silly. Then it suddenly feels deep.
- A few songs feel like sketches. Cool ideas, then poof. I wanted longer grooves.
- The loud parts can be harsh if you’re tired. On a migraine day, I skip Birthday Cake. No shame.
- At low volume, the drums still keep you hooked. That’s rare.
If the name Cibo Matto rings a TV-sized bell, it might be from their cameo at The Bronze on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That one scene has been pored over by fans (this memory still gives me chills), revisited from fresh angles (here’s another take), and even dissected song-by-song (full first-person review).
Who Would Like It
- If you like Portishead’s mood but want more play.
- If you enjoy Beck’s 90s bounce with fewer guitars.
- If you love Björk’s odd colors but need something cozier.
- If you collect weird-cool 90s stuff and smile at food puns.
If you need big, clean pop hooks? Maybe not for you.
Real-Life Use Cases (Yep, I Tried These)
- Focus time: Sugar Water looped while I wrote a report. I finished early. Wild.
- Brunch: Know Your Chicken with veggie omelets had the whole table laughing.
- Night walk: Beef Jerky kept my steps steady around the block. I also chewed on its lyrics till sunrise (the nerdy breakdown lives here).
- Cleaning spree: Birthday Cake for the first ten minutes, then switch to Apple or White Pepper Ice Cream when my heart rate begged for a break.
- Dinner prep: Beef Jerky became my weird happy kitchen anthem (quick ode).
Speaking of sensory overload, every now and then I look for something as unapologetically in-your-face on the visual side as Viva! La Woman is on the sonic side. When that mood strikes, I hop over to InstantChat’s big-tits live section—a playful, 18+ chat hub packed with confident performers, searchable tags, and free live streams that offer the same bold, carefree energy this album dishes out.
Tiny Gripes, Big Love
Sometimes the album feels like a box of snacks, not a full meal. Fun bites, surprise textures, a sugar rush, then a nap. But I kept reaching for it anyway. The mood is rare. The wordplay tastes better than it should. And when the beat clicks, your day shifts a little, like sunlight on a gray wall.
My Bottom Line
Viva! La Woman is playful, bold, and a little messy. It sounds like a kitchen jam that grew into a city night. I keep the CD near the stove. Rating? 4 out of 5 on most days, 5 when I’m cooking and the rain hits the window just right. Honestly, that’s enough for me.