There Is No Sun

Jay Reatard’s biography paints the portray of a truly outstanding musician. In paper, he’s someone I’d love without further questions: he started a seminal punk band, he had never been shy about taking different roads when it came to his other musical projects, he even has his own label (hence he probably helps a lot of new artists). It’s all pink ponies and rainbows up to now, right? Yet, whenever I try to listen to one of his songs, I feel the instant desire to press next and delete it from my music folder. His new album, ‘Watch Me Fall’, isn’t much of an exception to the rule.

The usual talk about a lack of variation seems appropriate. Just that Jay takes it to a whole new level. Yes, we understand you’re a (garage) punk musician, but it’s one chord per song, not one chord per album. The drums, the guitars that sound as if taken from a computer game (what is it with bands and pc games these day?), his voice (oh, I dread the thought of hearing that squeaky voice live), everything sounds the same from one song to the other. Sure, he sometimes adds a feedback or two. A wee feedback that is anyways placed towards the end of the song. Yes, the end you never get to because you’ve already pressed ‘next’.

I would like to point out that one might be fooled after the first four tracks (and if you get passed them, I feel the need to congratulate you). ‘I’m Watching You’ has less of that in-your-face spiky punk and a little more hey-Sebadoh-are-rad lo-fi and his voice isn’t that annoying. And it might actually creep its way into a music player or two. But then you fall in the same ‘hey, let me show you how punk I am’ pit. And a bottomless pit it is. The second track that’s somewhat worth it is the closing one, ‘There Is No Sun’, with its shoegaze vibe that makes it actually strangely enjoyable.

Unfortunatly, two tracks on a twelve-songs album of an artist that should be a music marvel doesn’t really cut it for me. I’m sorry, Jay, maybe next time.