Music Review :: Jet - Shaka Rock

Artist :: Jet
Album :: Shaka Rock
Release :: 25 August, 2009
Label :: Atlantic Records
Genre :: Garage Rock Revival, Rock N Roll

Long before my days slagging 90's anime robots and covering the occasional random album release here on Oh, Tetsuo, I used to sling reviews at a pretty huge public music community that shall remain nameless. I found, though, after about five years, that I truly loathe most people who consider themselves avid music fans. If asked to explain this seemingly irrational hatred of a pretty sizable group of people, I like to use Jet as a prime example.

Jet crawl under the skin of the Animal Collective collective, like nails on a chalk board or. ..um. well ...Jet. A harmless poppy throwback rock n roll band with catchy songs and some fist-pumping guitar riffs. But, harmless fun being the bane of the average indie music fan, this clueless bunch of Aussie rockers with a severe Beatles and AC/DC addiction have managed to become the antichrists of audio to the pitchfork media crowd, which is reason enough to love them to death.

Over on that there site, I've explained about a hundred times that I'm a fan of pop music, yet I still get a constant stream of private messages and site references about my "perplexing taste" ...because I think TV on the Radio are cool, but I also thought there were some good songs on Paris. Which isn't really all that hard to understand really. I'm someone who really enjoys music and spends absolutely zero time attempting to impress anyone with my taste. Sometimes Fleet Foxes make one of the best albums of the year and sometimes I like to listen to Journey really loud in my car in a non-ironic way.

Now, that said, there's more to my love of Jet than that Pitchfork can't stand them.

The problem I had with much of the garage rock revival of '01 was that every band needed a gimmick. Unique or not, someone was releasing vinyl exclusively or had silly back stories like The Hives. Hell, The Vines had a legitimately mentally handicapped singer, although I don't think anyone knew that when they came out. Especially being as close to Detroit as I am, the dirty non-art artrock garage nonsense was thick.

Then along came these four kinda thickheaded guys who played some furious guitar riffs and the singer shouted "yeah" a lot on top of some really catchy tunes. Months after learning about these guys and going to see them live they wound up with a huge hit that was a ripoff of an Iggy Pop song (which I might add is dramatically better than the song it lifts from) and... well... that was pretty much the end. There wasn't much else by way of mainstream success in the States. The story of Jet that most people are aware of.

The more well-read folks know that there was a second album, but not many people bothered to listen to it, which of course didn't stop anyone at the aforementioned league of hipster douchebags from shitting all over it. It charted higher than the band's debut in the US, but that's slightly misleading because of the dramatically more abysmal chart sales conditions at the time. Which was really unfortunately because the album itself was spectacular. Excellent harmonies, pounding drums, classic-rocky solos, great songs, all kinda uplifting stuff on account of the singer and drummers father had recently passed away. A lot less AC/DC and a lot more Beatles (god forbid.) Just a really enjoyable album from top to bottom without an ounce of pretense.

So that leaves us with a major hit, a solid debut of fun rock songs, and a pretty amazing sophomore effort full of some ambitious classic pop. How fucking horrible is Jet, right? Obviously lacking the talent of the legendary Panda Bear who is the only man brave enough to loop sounds for seven minutes while guys with indie beards have their jaws drop in Rodger Rabbit-esque fashion.

...but I digress.

Needless to say I've been anxiously awaiting their third LP, Shaka Rock (yes, I'm on to the actual review now.) Which was increased tenfold upon hearing the lead single "K.I.A. (Killed In Action)" which seemed like more of a take on their first record but utilized a marching band drumline, and that's always enough to make my clap my hands like a seal.

Finally getting my grubby little hands on it today I exercised extreme digital-music-collector OCD protocol. I loaded it into J. River Media Center. Got 500x500px album art. Got my display on my secondary monitor up. Loaded all my genres, styles, label info, tags, etc. Finally when everything was absolutely perfect, I hit play.

There it was! "K.I.A.!" Hell yeah! After being in an M. Ward / Mountain Goats indie folk kinda mood all week, 24 seconds into the song I was suddenly ready to squeeze into some flares and drink Rolling Rock at some shitty club in The D. I was ready to go. I was here for the party. ...but a funny thing happened after that first 3:28.

...the rest wasn't all that great.

I mean, it's perfectly good, but I was dishearten to see that this wasn't the Jet I'd known and loved and most fucking importantly defended a LOT.

The second track "Beat on Repeat" in is easily the worst of the bunch, serving as a sort of creepy, slimy disco funk number sung in part by drummer Chris Cester who's now apparently singing in full accent (never a good idea. Nice one, Ringo.)

There's still plenty of decent stuff on Shaka Rock. "She's a Genius" "La Di Da" and 80's-ish "Let Me Out" (Jet have heard music from the 80s?) all make for excellent editions to the catalog, and I'd still take Jet and a steak knife to the shoulder over Portishead any day of the week, but there's just something missing here.

Shaka lacks the urgency or instant gratification of the first two records, which, are really all Jet are about in the first place. They also seem to be broadening their musical influences, which I'm not sure how great of an idea that maybe for a band who are essentially a really awesome tribute act.


So it's worth checking out, and worth a couple listens to see what all clicks. If you like your catchy rock tunes that still sound like four guys playing them in a room instead of a grand mess of glossy production magic, Jet are still here for you, suffering the slings and arrows of the indie militia to bring you a fond and fleeting memory of what rock music used to sound like.