I have a general sense that Joe Jackson was, at least at one time, a little huffy about how retrospectives on his career focus so heavily on his early new wave records. (Is this true? I dunno, I didn’t get to 349 reviews in this series by sourcing all my claims.) Trouble is, the immature “Angry Young Man” music of his debut Look Sharp! is by some distance the best stuff Jackson ever did, despite the restless stylistic diversity of his later years. Being a man of a certain age myself (43), I can now understand how it would be disheartening to think I’d done my best work as a 22-year-old idiot, the rest of my life perceived as a failure to maintain that standard. On the other hand, I haven’t done any “best work” as yet, and the prospects of ever doing so are starting to seem remote…
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You can never be sure how much artists are blowing smoke when they tell you to your face/screen that they think their new album is better than their most popular classic, but when that classic is as good as Look Sharp! is…ah, Jackson’s gotta know right? I often forget just how much punch the record packs before it makes its way back on to my table, but then I drop the needle and start to seriously wonder whether there was a better top-to-bottom record by any of the singer-songwritery new wavers—Lowe, Parker, and Costello very much included. It’s that undeniably heavy Costello influence that probably especially galls Jackson, as this is essentially a punked up, Vox organ-free refinement of Elvis’s first two records. But by ’79’s Armed Forces (released just weeks before Look Sharp!), Costello had already essentially abandoned that sound, and no one before or since scratched that My Aim is True itch like Jackson and his band do here.
The Joe Jackson Band gives the Attractions a run for slick, compact punch (especially superhero bassist Graham Maby), moving adeptly from sophisticated ska pop (“Fools in Love”) to jagged new wave (“Look Sharp!”; “Happy Loving Couples”) to thrashing pop punk (“Got the Time”; “Throw It Away”). Though it’s not my favourite song on the record, there is something slightly brain-busting about the existence of “Is She Really Going Out with Him?” on an LP from 1979, given that it could absolutely have come out unchanged in 1997 and been an alternative radio smash. In fact, one thing Joe may have on Elvis is that (in my opinion) Look Sharp! had more direct influence on a swath of ‘90s band than Costello’s comparatively sour original article: “Is She Really Going Out with Him?” alone contains like the complete DNA of Ben Folds, Weezer, Jimmy Eat World, Sugar Ray (who even had a hit covering it) and much of the guitar contingent from the Now That’s What I Call Music! comps.
Coventry — Our Lady of Perpetual Health (Septic Jukebox)
Our Lady Of Perpetual Health by Coventry
Coventry is a Chicago-based jangly folk-pop duo, made up of Mike Fox and Jon Massey. Both principals have been in bands before, Massey in Silo’s Choice, Animal Mother and Upstairs and Fox in Arthhur and Flesh of the Stars, but neither has made much of a splash. With so many bands vying for attention, you might wonder how their charming debut, Our Lady of Perpetual Health, entered our critical field of view. The answer is simple: they asked.
Of course, it’s not really that clear-cut. Lots of bands ask for a spin. Few get our collective ears, and fewer still become the subject of reviews. Not to be too full of ourselves. We all understand how insignificant Dusted is in the greater scheme of things, but we still get a fuck ton of promos.
Success depends a lot on when you ask, which is hard to time. You want to show up in the inbox when the writer isn’t completely buried, burnt out and this close to never reviewing another record. That’s hard to time, but deep summer is as good a guess as any. It also depends on how good you are. Here, the bar is high but not insurmountable. We all like finding something wonderful, especially if no one else is listening.
So about the record: it is damned good.
Let’s start with the sunny sting of “Chain Wallet,” with its bubbly lilt and bittersweet haze of nostalgia, its slippery little guitar riff that cascades over a series of notes like the self-effacing protagonist of this song clearing his throat. Here I am. Love me. But no, he’s stopped up the toilet and broken the girl’s bathroom scale, and all the jaunty, indie rock jangle, all the tight harmonies are likely not much use. It’s an imperfect world, nice guys lose all the time, so why not make a song about it? There’s that riff again in scat format: diddle-diddle-doo, diddle-diddle-doo.
“Seneca” is even more endearing, with its hard-strummed guitars and soft, near-falsetto choruses, its gleeful hooks and rueful lyrics. “I see you bobbing on the ocean/I see your hand above the waves,” they croon giddily, and whether they’re seeing a swimmer or a drowner, it’s hard to say.
I do not love the soft, white boy funk of “Ottawa,” which puts me in mind of the Spin Doctors, and I think, overall, the best stuff comes in the album’s first half. However, the piano and organ-laced “Sprouts” has the rueful 1970s pop resonance of Eric Carmen, the stylized articulate drama of certain Destroyer songs.
Indeed, Our Lady of Perpetual Health seems like the sort of sunny but shadowed, catchy guitar pop album that used to arrive more regularly in our post boxes and email accounts. But maybe they have been and just got lost there? Very possible. Glad to have caught this one.
learning french (alternative mix), send no flowers (1991, 2020).
i never, never really liked the idea
i wanted him to be, i wanted him to be
a part of
a time
that i wanted
as it was
for the first time
abroad in my life
I'm going to be quite gushy over Sunnbrella as I absolutely love them. I really couldn't choose a best track because every single track on the album is amazing. So I've gone for Ivy League which was a great opener to their set and their set just got better and better. Perfect Dream PoP. (Pics to follow)
Sunnbrella - Crofters Rights, Bristol 4th Nov 2023
Sonny and the Sunsets — Self Awareness Through Macrame (Rocks in Your Head)
Self Awareness Through Macrame by SONNY & THE SUNSETS
Sonny Smith spent the COVID pandemic about the way you’d expect him to, writing loosely arranged but carefully articulated story songs that capture the moment.The man who once wrote and recorded 100 singles for imaginary bands, complete with art and backstory, had no trouble figuring out what to do with his free-floating time and anxiety.He laid down ten songs, matter of fact on their surface but magically surreal underneath, with a friends—Josiah Flores, Ava Lynch, Tahlia Harbour and Rusty Miller—in a few sensibly masked sessions.
Smith has never gotten the ink that Bay Area contemporaries like Kelley Stoltz or Ty Segall or Sic Alps or The Ohsees have garnered, but he’s master of barbed but breezy guitar pop.“Signs” busts out with Kinks-y exuberance, hammering the piano and harmonizing the chorus, as Smith reads the omens.“Waiting” wheedles with vintage organ sounds, jangles with giddy guitar.It starts out chronicling the lockdown in a matter of fact way.Smith’s son is in his room sewing costumes to keep the boredom at bay.But like most Smith songs, it spins out in magic realism, imagining a UFO landing and taking the boy away.He’s a master of twisting realism into gentle fantasy, so that it’s hard to say where the grit leaves off and the fairy dust starts.
The most intriguing song, lyrically, is “How to Make a Ceramic Dog,” where Smith imagines constructing canines in exacting detail.The process is involved—making ears, making snouts, making tails—and it serves as a kind of bulwark against an awful world.“Try not to think about politics.Try not to think about fascists.Just think about dogs,” mutters Smith, in his cracked, half-melodic way, like the boy in “Waiting” using art to stave off anger, despair, tedium.
These songs are well-made, bouncy and infectious, with sunny hooks and buoyant choruses, like 1960s pop but hand-made, with some of the stitches showing. “Memory Lane” is especially catchy, with its bounding bass and rumbling drumbeat; if TVP sounded like the Beatles but cracked, then this one sounds like TVP through a broken mirror, surreal but jaunty, carefree but accomplished.
And anyway, how did you spend the lockdown? Watching the Sopranos again?Banging pots at 7 o’clock for the doctors, and celebrating another day of not dying?Zooming for happy hour with a slight air of hysteria?Sonny Smith made a Sunsets record that both memorializes those months and transcends them.