Review Summary: Party like it's 1995!
I started the day as I normally would by waking up, getting the bus to work and proceeding to make myself a massive cup of coffee out of my Sports Direct mug. As I stood in the staff kitchen and thought about going back to bed, my co-worker Ben entered the kitchen with his usual shit eating grin on his face. His production line perfect haircut, his inability to distinguish between “your” and “you’re”, his obsession with the 90s. Everything about him irritated me in some way and yet I always seemed to be the only person who felt any sort of negativity towards him. I tried my best to avoid conversation with him but the dullard persisted and I eventually gave in. “Nice weather we’re having isn’t it?” he said, in the tone of a socially awkward 16 year old trying his best to make conversation with a girl so out of his league he’s practically in the Conference. “Yeah not bad” I replied, and then we sat in silence for a while whilst I sipped on my coffee and he played some bandwagon iPhone game no one will care about in a week. All of a sudden, he seemingly broke character and asked me if I’d heard any good music lately. I made casual references to the new Radiohead and Gojira albums but he just gave me a blank look before telling me he “doesn’t know much Radiohead other than Creep and that song about a Gucci piggy”. He then proceeded to reach into his man bag, rummage around for a while and eventually pull out what looked like a CD. At first I couldn’t distinguish who the artist was. The cover art was some minimalist looking painting that looked like it belonged on an Alt-J album but as I leaned closer I noticed a name on the front. “Jake Bugg”. I immediately felt shivers rush down my spine as I thought of his nasally voice and self-righteousness over the fact that he grew up on a council estate. “Great stuff mate, gave it a listen on the way here and it’s the best album I’ve heard all year. This is real music, none of that over-produced guff”. I thought he was joking at first but the sad look of sincerity in his eyes told me otherwise. “Album is fire mate, you should definitely give it a spin tonight and then we can talk about it tomorrow” he told me, before handing me the CD and leaving to go and answer a call. “Over my dead body” I thought to myself, before leaving the kitchen and starting the working day.
Before I knew it, it was 6pm and time to get my return bus back to my flat. I heated up the leftover Korma from the night before and sat down on the sofa, wondering what the hell to do with myself. I was in a Mogwai sort of mood but then I remembered the Jake Bugg CD Ben had lent me. I hated his first album and I didn’t even bother with the second, but I didn’t have anything better to do and thought maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Inserting the album into my player, I pressed play and sat down with a tin of Special Brew. I have to say, the first few seconds of the title track show promise. Jake plucks away in the melancholic and yet sophisticated style of Bob Dylan or Beck when he’s working with Nigel Godrich and for a brief moment, I was tricked into believing perhaps Jake had matured and moved away from some of his worst tendencies.
“I’m just a poor boy, from Nottingham”
“Fucking hell, did that just happen?”, I uttered to myself. Either Jake is having a laugh or he genuinely wants me to feel sorry for him. We get it mate, you had a rough upbringing and you’ve escaped that life for a better one. “Two Fingers” may not be amazing song but it was at least decent and Jake conveyed a similar message in a much more eloquent and heartfelt way. I can see why Noel Gallagher gave Jake the thumbs up now; they’re both equally as superficial and uninteresting. As I made my way through the album, I thought of Ben listening to it and being amazed at Jake’s references to various places in England and the ‘heartfelt’ lyricism where Jake goes on endlessly about “the streets” and “the old days”. I simply sat there, wondering how anyone could possibly find any enjoyment out of this. It was just so uninspired, so bottom of the barrel, so disingenuous and yet people seem to be falling for it. “Gimme The Love” gave me a laugh or two at least as Jake awkwardly pretends he’s capable of giving a swaggering rock delivery over a smothering wall of fuzzy guitars and some other compressed shite I couldn’t distinguish.
The laws of Britpop worship state that your album has to have at least one ballad with the same vague qualities as “Wonderwall” and Jake certainly ticks that box with the hilarious “Love, Hope and Misery”. It is here where
On My One goes from excruciating to hilarious, as Jake sings about “pain” and “why he doesn’t want you”. Make no mistake, the lyrics sound like X-Factor winner’s single fodder and the instrumentation is no better. Is Mr Bugg’s ego so over inflated that he thinks this could ever be a hit in 2016? I hate the musical output of Syco Records just as much as anyone else but at least they have their finger on the pulse, Mr Bugg’s understanding of the music world is so out of touch he probably uses the Macarena as an example of the “degradation of music”.
The album eventually died with a whimper in the form of the dismal “Hold On You” (which the album definitely didn’t have on me) and I hastily unplugged my hi-fi system from the wall, feeling exhausted and slightly dirty for what I just put myself through. With one big chug I finished off my third can and dragged myself to bed, thinking about exactly what I’m going to say to Ben when I see him tomorrow. Arriving at work the next day with a banging headache and a low-level ringing in my ears, I sat in the kitchen with my oversized mug of coffee and waited for that bellend to walk through the door so I could give him a piece of my mind. 10 minutes passed and no sign of Ben. This only allowed my anger to further grow as I thought of how I was going to verbally assassinate him.
But when Ben did show up, I simply said nothing. I gave him back the CD, told him “it was good, thanks” and came to a startling realisation. It was that in the end, it ultimately means nothing.
On my One Will be forgotten with the passage of time as most middle of the road music does, good music with the balls to actually push boundaries and try something new will continue to receive attention and acclaim and no amount of past worship and out of touch listening habits can change that.
On My One was an awful experience not because it was the worst album I had ever heard or because Jake is an inadequate musician but because it was just so boring. It’s very clear Jake has potential and when he continuously squanders it like this by making music of the lowest common denominator to appeal to the widest demographic, you can’t help but be frustrated.
