Tower of Love - Jim Noir
My Dad Recordings, 2005
There’s somewhat a school of thought that in art, it has to mean something, art must have this over-riding narrative, must be a reflection upon society. It’s not necessarily a pretentious school of thought, but has existed for nearly as long as Og the cavemen first dabbed his stick into a pile of shit and created an etching of a buffalo, or mammoth, and Ig said to him, “Ug, ug oguh uhh og eg og ug?”*
What I’m trying to say is, this way of thinking has often polluted art—in all its forms—to give way to works that have focused more on our inner faults and feelings than aesthetic (or in this case, aural) beauty, creating pieces of art that appeal only to art degree holders, eager to prove they didn’t waste three years of their life and forgetting to have any appeal to a broad audience. Is there a form of artistic intent that has managed to completely avoid this tarring brush? I would argue, fairy tales. Now, watch me seamlessly tie this arsing diatribe back into a review:
Much like fairy tales, Jim Noir (real name Alan Roberts) doesn’t over complicate things. His songs are often just a simple riff laid over a beautifully constructed drum beat with a plain subject: Eanie Meany says “If you don’t give my football back, I’m gonna get my dad on you,” with a delicious harmony, reminiscent of the bees that infest every British summer. He picks apart schemas of modern life such as playing football in the garden or the frustrations of modern technology, “I try control delete but it makes me upset when I have to re-set your mind,” says Computer Song. But again, like nursery rhymes (here I redeem myself for analysers of nursery rhymes, a notoriously violent bunch) they hide a complexity: not just in the layers of harmonies so prescient in Jim Noir’s work, but in their words too.
While there is often no distinction between verses and choruses, as the same lyrics repeat over and over in a song, Jim Noir picks apart these issues without falling into bathos as so many might be tempted to; singing with a pure honesty. This un-reliance on humour allows the listener to appreciate the song on a deeper level than might be expected: It’s not Joyce or Proust, by any means, but it’s breathtaking relief from other songs that attempt such analysis. Jim Noir realises that three-and-a-half-minutes is not the optimum time to tackle the meta-narratives of life, instead opting to delve into the microcosms of every day, allowing us to expand them onto life ourselves.
This is by no means a perfect record. In many cases the simplicity which I praise it for falls short of the mark—heard half of the song? You’ve heard all of it, in many cases.It also lacks an energy towards the latter end of the record, giving a disappointingly sombre effect. Yet it still manages to be one of the more innovative records of recent times in Britain, pissing in the face of those who claim complexity is the only way forward. It never tries to be anything more than its face value; for better or for worse, this is a record that simply just is.
*Yes, but what does it mean?
Billy, Trini and Kimberly out of 5 Power Rangers.
Review by David.
Track listing.
1. My Patch
2. I Me You I’m Your
3. Computer Song
4. How to Be So Real
5. Eanie Meany
6. Tower of Love
7. The Key of C
8. Turbulent Weather
9. Turn Your Frown into A Smile
10. A Quiet Man
11. Eanie Meany 2
12. The Only Way
