Jackson and His Computerband
by Dominique Leone
Jackson Fourgeaud doesn't write songs. He builds ridiculously elaborate toys that run on their own silicon-plated gears. Perhaps he ...
Jackson Fourgeaud doesn't write songs. He builds ridiculously elaborate toys that run on their own silicon-plated gears. Perhaps he starts with something very small, takes it apart, inserts tiny robots, let's them play around awhile until new parts spring up around the old ones. Jackson's melodies might have begun as everyday melodies, but after he's done tinkering, reassembling, and tinkering again, they sound like musical engines, designed not for ease of use but for speed and precision. If his songs were sold individually on store racks, only the richest kids would ever own them, and even then, they'd probably end up in a closet with the junior chemistry set and last year's iPod model. There are a lot of people who will tell you that these kinds of toys are pointless because of their exclusivity and built-in obsolescence. I'd agree that the shelf life of your average glitch-core, robo-pop CD is distressingly short, and wonder if I'll ever see the day when all of the technique that goes into this stuff ever actually produces something "accessible".
But that's okay if it doesn't: Jackson's debut LP Smash, featuring a dubious "Computer Band", is interesting not so much for what it does, but for what it could have done. Two years ago, when he released "Utopia", Jackson briefly seemed like the next great hope for IDM, somehow finding a way to balance insanely detailed production with a hook that refused to dislodge itself from many of the electro-heads who heard it. This song had it all: enigmatic intro, expertly crafted beat, spooky background drones and otherworldly female vocal harmonies that even now make me stop what I'm doing to marvel. As Smash's opening track, it sets a pretty high bar for the rest of the record. Unfortunately, in the years since the song's first appearance, Jackson appears to have lost interest in creating tracks like this. Most of the rest of the album is far less "pretty" and far more "impressive". That is, it's hard to say he isn't progressing as an artist, but even harder to remember a lot of these tunes.
The new single "Rock On" is an admirable stab at straightforward dance-oriented pop, perhaps the nerdy cousin of Daft Punk's "Robot Rock", but trades any melodic momentum for an almost constantly shifting rhythmic base. Snares turn into handclaps, drums fall in and out of the mix, the beat sounds like it's running backwards-- to which Jackson responds by singing wordless falsetto over the top. It's a dizzying experience, but one I'd argue takes a step-and-a-half back for every step-and-a-fourth it moves forward. "Arpeggio" is slightly more manageable, mostly due to the semi-consistent beat, and is in fact a pretty good take on Akufen-styled trickery. I might also mention Mouse on Mars, but where the German duo are experts at crafting melodies from the barest hint of actually melodic movement, Jackson usually lets his firework machinery handle things by itself-- there's little quarter given to listeners accustomed to being handed choruses on platters.
However, there are signs of genius: "Hard Tits" lurches along with a deceptively simple piano figure, doubled by more wordless, heavily reverbed falsetto, that should put Moby out of business once and for all. The overall effect is angelic (similar to parts of "Utopia" in that respect), and suggests that he may yet produce music whose complexity not only doesn't overwhelm the vibe, it sends into the stratosphere. Of course, it's preceded by a goth-cinematic track narrated by a little girl ("TV Dogs"), and followed by strained-CPU glam ("Teen Beat Ocean"), so there probably isn't much danger of a crossover soon. And, really, that's fine with me, as is the video game powered "Tropical Metal. Under all the layers of electronics and broken beats, this is pop: I can put up with haters telling me you can't dance to this stuff as long as Jackson keeps things interesting.