If you want to make a mistake, at least make it a big
one. Things heated up for Ireland's much hyped "new hope," what with
2000's endless excitable press clippings, triumphant festival slots, and a
full-length chance to prove to the world if their three-minute slices of
searing guitar distress were worth any of the attention in the first place.
Indeed, fortune has been strong with this young trio. The fact that JJ72 sound
completely unfazed even when they screw it all up is what makes this roaringly
ambitious debut so captivating.
It's an idea that has many a Suede and Joy Division
name-checks sound apt, as proved by the likes of "Snow" or
"Algeria," sweltering, emotive crackles of indie guitar thunder that
succeed in being as innocent and powerful as any song influenced by the greats.
Truly, the magnificence of JJ72 is that they're on top form even when they
don't seem to know what they're doing. Mark Greaney's garrulous growls and
falsettos soar over far too many syllables. The band's "soft/loud"
Nirvana-isms are occasionally banal. Sometimes it's only the band's wide-eyed
eagerness that saves everything. With a lyrical mash-up of abstract imagery
("Short sleeves and warm skin/losing coins calling next of kin") and
glorious bursts of confessional euphoria -- somewhere in between the Sex
Pistols and the poems of John Keats -- album peaks like "Oxygen" are
extraordinary. They show how choosing the right blunders can make all the
difference in the world. Because, for all its evident talent this debut album
is admittedly a student film with all of its naiveté, vigor and
self-indulgence. These mistakes are big. These mistakes are personal. Yet these
same mistakes transform JJ72 into a band nothing short of inspiring, and just a
touch away from being impossibly beautiful.
