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Those of you who’re familiar with idiosyncratic indie rockers Jaguar Love’s first release may want to tread with caution when approaching their daring new release.
Please note though that the term ‘daring’ is being used rather loosely here; it’s the kind of daring you don’t know whether to applaud or to face-palm.
Seeing as Jaguar Love’s first record had a distinct and crisp pop-punk vibe emerging — Johnny Whitney’s unmistakable helium induced yelp, voiced lyrics bordering on insane. But hey, we love bonkers.
Hologram Jams however, is supersoaked with trippy keys with a 4-bit drum machine backing instead of fuzzed-up guitars and a drum-kit; it’s also been glammed out to fuck with most of the bite smothered in sugary sweet dance-pit plaque. Whitney’s ‘Ooh-I’ve-been-kicked-in-the-balls’ squeal still remains, yet through many attempts to bite us like the first did, it often fails and only manages to suck.
Yet like most things bad for us..it’s addictive.
Being honest, it’s really quite disconcerting when five minutes after deciding something is technically awful; you want to absorb yourself once again in the syrupy mess you just pulled yourself out of (in this case anyway.)
Tracks such as Cherry Soda and Everything Is Awesome are filled with deliciously naive lyrics and refrains that’ll have you unintentionally head-bobbing, whilst Up All Night contains a chorus that will, most probably have you up all night with the blasted thing resounding in your head whilst you try desperately to count dancing sheep.
8th track, however (the cutesy Evaline) features Whitney’s most eccentric and feminine crooning to date, taking a break from the semi-screamo sing-a-longs that lace the album thus far.
Following tune, Sad Parade has some keys almost identical to McCartney’s Wonderful Christmas Time — I’m not shitting you. On a scale of Babybel to Boyzone, it hits high on the cheese scale.
The album closes with the most bizarre rendition of Erma Franklin’s Piece Of My Heart you’ll ever hear in your life.
At the end when you’re confused as to whether your body itched to dance naked across the landing through the entirety of the record (ahem) or whether you feel you’ll never get that 43 minutes of your life back again…it’s worth a listen, despite how wrong it is.
Bonkers.