Review Summary: "Please, sir, I want some more."
Jungle's debut confounds and impresses on a multitude of levels. Though it's easy to assign this confusion to my lacking contextual knowledge of synth-funk or modern soul in general, I can't help but feel they're enigmatic in their own right. Founded recently by Tom McFarland and Josh Lloyd-Watson, the band’s reputation for communicating a pseudo-70s vibe is quickly understood. The clarity of musical direction here is both impressive and head-scratching in equal measure, and we’re fundamentally left disentangling musical cowardice from artistic intention.
Throughout the album, song after song is delivered with a sonic grace and delicacy that establishes an enormously individual sound that sets a clear, consistent identity. Rife with high-pitched controlled vocals and an array of wildlife sounds and tropical percussion, it’s easy to get lost in Jungle’s thematic constructions. Opening with ‘The Heat’, the listener is dragged into a vividly created space, decorated with distant rainfall and sirens. This use of ambience is central to their technique and tends to parallel instrumental movements very closely, particularly in any progressions. Whether it’s the breaking of a glass in a brief instrumental pause or a distant cry in the background, Jungle demonstrates a bewilderingly self-aware understanding of their musical structure, particularly given their recent formation.
Regrettably, though, this is both their greatest asset and their greatest weakness. Jungle rarely seem to take risks on a track-by-track basis, perhaps due to the general risk that their album is taking. Though a deference to 70s themes is hardly uncommon in modern music, the particular niche that Jungle occupies seems to have land-locked them into an unfortunate monotony that is rarely escaped from. Even on the most memorable of tracks – such as ‘Time’, ‘Busy Earning’, and ‘Lucky I Got What I Want’, Jungle are simply over-reserved. The difference between the instrumental activity in the openings, middles, and endings of their tracks is disappointingly insignificant. The progressive build-ups and crashing denouements of - say, Röyksopp - are crucially absent and leave the album in a very strange and unusual position. Jungle’s sonic identity is deeply memorable and unique, but very few of their tracks are.
In this sense, the greatest offenders here are ‘Drops’ and ‘Smoking Pixels’. The former of the two is a vacuous husk of a song – albeit intentionally – that tries to separate itself from the overarching sound of the album. This highlights Jungle’s second most serious issue, that of vocals. Though ‘Drops’ is instrumentally unique in its highly subdued nature and lifeless percussion, the unwavering soul vocals of McFarland and Lloyd-Watson remains unchanged. It’s jarringly un-jarring, and leaves you wondering precisely what’s trying to be accomplished. The latter of the two, ‘Smoking Pixels’ diametrically opposes ‘Drops’ in that it is wholly empty of vocals but underwhelms in instrumentation. Why is it that in such a large and varied musical group, Jungle are so afraid of livening their tracks? Their very theme begs for the vitality and a tropical energy that can clearly be seen on ‘Crumbler’ or sections of ‘Busy Earning’, yet so much of the album wields a depressing hollowness. I practically found myself filling in the gaps, hoping for another layer of percussion or an additional guitar. Whether it’s an intentional control or a refusal to take risks, Jungle constantly underwhelms.
The greatest shame here is that Jungle are clearly capable of producing excellent singles. ‘Busy Earning’ and ‘Time’ are both catchy and skilful, managing to fully embrace their 70s influences whilst fully modernizing them into the ‘Jungle’ identity. Aside from their overly-reserved style, Jungle generally sports vocals that are truly interesting. Though lacking in lyrical content, the actual vocal movements are themselves hugely beneficial to the foreground instrumentals that Jungle put forward. To every compliment I can give Jungle I can’t help but find a niggling caveat, and this constant sense of “almost there” made the album more of a frustration than a pleasure to listen to. Every element of the album simply needs 'more'.
