Jackson Fourgeaud – as Jackson And His Computerband – made waves some eight years ago, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Then it’s been remix duty until now, a new album.
Bit of it are very cool too – a strange retooling of French house music as powerpop, you might even think of LCD Soundsystem going all ELO on the opener, Blow. But then it’s to bleeps and bloops and a dancefloor-ish version of Aphex Twin via Deadmau5. Hang on, I’ve made that sound rather cool probably. And it isn’t.
G.I. Jane (Fill Me Up) is really kind of awful, it’s Berlin Bowie gone wrong.
But things improve with the strange sweep of Orgysteria, almost sort of Jarre-esque. No, wait. Come back…
Blood Bust is full steam ahead and not so great. It’s just the mindless-techno with an almost-twist. And then Memory is a torch ballad mixed with wayward hip-hop. It’s (possibly) very cool but sticks out like a dog’s balls here. By midway through it’s very clear that Jackson is trying to be all things for all people and failing as a result.
Arp #1 is modern Moroder and good of course. I mean it’s not great, but a few more things like this to make an album that flowed and we’d have something that would stack up, would line up, would look and sound good altogether.
From there it’s a much better album – the back half all showing a family resemblance. But it’s a bit too late. The damage (three or four wonky/nothing songs in the first half of the album) is done.
Jackson’s clever – but this long vacation hasn’t served him well. I doubt many would have the patience for this. But it excerpts well – so perhaps there’ll be some club cuts, like the closer Billy, which will help this get over the line.
Me? I wanted more. Or maybe, in fact, I wanted less. That’s the problem. The splatter approach of throwing everything at this, beats and pieces and leftovers and new servings. It’s all too much, too wayward. All over the shop.