Jarvis

JARVIS COCKERJARVIS

The first time I heard Oasis I immediately liked them. A lot. Blur, however, never did a whole lot for me, though I did come to like a good number of their singles. Not surprisingly, my attempts to get into the No. 3 Britpop band from the 90s, Pulp, never really worked out. That said, I bought Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker’s debut solo album, Jarvis, for the following purely superficial reasons: I liked Cocker’s hair, glasses, voice, name, album cover and back story. Especially the album cover. (I mainly liked the snippets I heard on the Internet, but that’s not nearly as much fun.)

Within the first 30 seconds of my initial listen to Jarvis I was hooked. The opening track and single, “Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time,” bursts open, loud and thick, just like any great, overproduced modern Britpop song (i.e. Oasis’ “Wonderwall“ or The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony,” for those feeling completely lost). The next track, “Black Magic” is, hands down, the catchiest song so far in 2007. Upon first listen I was at first appalled, then amused, then entirely thrilled. Why these reactions, you ask? “Black Magic,” for some unknown reason, incorporates a world recognized loop from a little song called “Crimson & Clover.” Filled again with thick production and Ziggy Stardust-era Bowie backing yelps, “Black Magic” begins with slight tickles before bursting into an instant contender for the track one spot on your next jogging mixtape.

Other standouts include the single-worthy “Stormy Weather” (cheesy lyrics, overdone hook and all), the Morrissey-friendly “I Will Kill Again,” the punky, politically incorrect “Fat Children” and the brilliantly funny “Big Julie.” The remaining seven tracks include two brief piano interludes and five other songs worth getting to know.

Jarvis is too long, too ambitious and, at times, too anathematic; but, oddly, I can‘t imagine it being anything else. It’s the rare album you can listen to all day long for a few weeks, then shelve and forget about, only to relive the initial obsession as often as listeners swaying ability to enjoy titanic Brit-pop allows. It’s a great effort, but not a lifer; or at least that’s what the Silver Jews/Pavement-obsessed American novice reckons.   6.5/10

Written by G. William Locke