Notes - The music blog
Notes: Joe blogs...on Jakobinarina
Every Thursday, Joe Christmas offers "past and present alternatives to watered-down but blindly and stupidly popular bands in the public eye."
Nearly three weeks ago, it was announced that The Rakes – one of the best bands to emerge from the arty, British post-punk scene of 2004 – had called it quits. I for one was gutted, I know my mate James was pretty upset... err, but apart from us two saddos, I’ve not heard anyone else mention the split at all.
That’s not to say that The Rakes were an underground band; they’d hit up the charts a number of times, they’d sound-tracked the Dior Homme fashion show, they’d released three solid albums to critical and somewhat commercial success and it’s my bet that most people – whether knowingly or otherwise – will be familiar with at least a few Rakes songs. So why then was their split received with a collective shrug? This question isn’t rhetorical; I actually don’t know the answer. It’s just that the whole good-band-quitting-to-mute-reaction thing has reminded me of a similar swell of confusion I felt over a year and a half ago.
In March 2008, to my shock and aghast, Icelandic six piece Jakobinarina called it a day, having barely reached their twenties and releasing just one album, The First Crusade; literally the most accurate portrayal of teenage angst you’ll ever hear.
“BUT WHAT ABOUT MORRISSEY?!”, I hear you cry! Well, what vocalist Gunnar Hallbergsson lacks poetically, he more than makes up for in his delivery. And anyway, he’s Icelandic, so if you’re gunna cuss him for his lack of vocabulary, then I hate to break it to you, but you’re being racist.
And by ‘delivery’, I mean the whole shebang; the vocals, the lyrics, the music and the references to popular culture. If you could somehow get a microphone into a teenager’s body (maybe hide it in a bottle of Bacardi Breezer or something) and then somehow record that bubbling pit of hormonal emotion, then I’m pretty sure that this is how it’d sound.
What you’ll first find striking when listening to Jakobinarina is just how angry vocalist Gunnar sounds, at everything; from bands selling out, to girls, to living in a boring town (the band hail from the suburbs of Reykjavik, where “you have to go to a government shop to get alcohol”), to girls again, to celebrity culture and mediocrity. However, such relentless aggression would get tiresome if it wasn’t funny and although I’d happily give a few examples, there’s no way a white background can match the musical context from which the lines are spat.
Guitars are strummed with a phenomenal amount of speed and accuracy, drum beats are rattled off like blasts from an uzi, bass lines are played quite happily and keyboards constantly underpin the feel of the album as a whole. All this combines to make for a fast and playful spin, through 60s surf, post-punk and indie, which – once you start listening – you’ll never be able to ignore again.
Seriously, listen to The First Crusade and start spreading the news because I don’t know about you but it pisses me off when the likes of Spandau Ballet reform to jubilant middle-aged gasps, while band’s as utterly brilliant as Jakobinarina are unlikely to reform since no one’s heard of them in the first place. Pure anger has descended.
You must be logged in to post comments.