Part of the Prog Rogue duties is the requirement to constantly scour and scroll the web for new horizons, be it reputed prog sites as well as prog radios, some like Progzilla UK where I even get to do some cameo appearances via my colleague Lazland. I also generally try to visit Friday Night Progressive with the erudite Ron Marquis, and where JoJo Razor often appears in the chat room. So, I naturally got curious and purchased her latest after hearing a few tracks that really appealed to my veteran ears. Jojo is a rather eclectic personality, a long career as a performance artist, delving in art-rock, dark prog as well as a myriad of projects such as the acclaimed Imager (which I own) and the Gekko Project (which I will). This is her first solo work, a labour of love and at times, strenuous hardship and certainly merits the reward of being presented to the public, after 10 years in the oven waiting for conception.
“Melancholia” settles into a moody setting with echoing electronics leading the way, a distant Nik Turner-esque sax calling to arms, a bit more than 8 minutes of frolicking oddity, where Jojo wastes little time inserting her hushed and plaintive voice. Most definitely theatrical, emitting Arthur Brown-like vibes, laden with lyrical intrigue, the galloping bass shoving the arrangement into gloomy overdrive, in an almost Halloween stylistic that cannot help to be utterly attractive, ‘truth be told’! When Eric Barnett’s razor blade guitar throttles in for the kill, assisted by a monstrous bass splurge (courtesy of guest Tara Rae) , the verdict is in. Guilty as charged !
On “Trees”, the vocals step front and center, forcing the listener to focus on the crystal-clear lyrics, floating on a carpet of chirping birds, swaying branches and haunting winds, a chant that transfixes the expectations. Segueing into the mechanical electronic cocoon that is the sung, recited and even vocoded “Always and Forever”, the collapsing modernity of clanging synths playing games with a sombre cello rant. A slight vintage John Foxx emanation that surely pleased my ears, a sense of dislocating eternity that had me searching for the golden buzzer.
Another duo of shorter snippets are to be found, first on the Gregorian “Red Garden” with a rubbery bass assault that rekindled images of Mick Karn’s genius, Jojo doing some spectacular choral work, church organ in tow, and garnished with tragic words bouncing off the stone walls. “Never” shows off her impressive range, low frontal voice and higher backing choir getting the juices all revved up, as the rhythmic onslaught picks up punky steam. Hints of Bauhaus, Siouxie, Joy Division, Magazine and even Ultravox will always make my day, thank you kindly.
Can this get any better you may ask? Both “Run” and “Thunder” are of similar length, another slice of thrills and spills , all wrapped up in gothic splendour. The first is an absolute highlight track with layers of dense vocalizations elevating the convincing lead vocal, expertly constructed with enough cinematographic expanse to keep one on edge. The bouncy bass undertow is utterly manic, pushing, shoving and boosting the pace to race car level, fast, furious and devastating. Rumbling effects are the main focus on the second piece, a majestic piano-ruled atmosphere that hypnotizes from the very first notes, remarkably vivid and heartfelt, as the rain drops keep falling on our headphones, creating rivulets at our feet. Truly exceptional .
Two mini-morsels that serve to set up the gargantuan 13-and-a-half-minute finale “Not Self” that will apply the progressive rock seals to this work of art, much to the potential chagrin of the elitist/purist prog fans who may have rigid conceptions on the eternal question of what is and what isn’t. They call me Rogue for a reason: I witnessed the death/crucifixion of prog in the late 70s and had to rely on other forms of aural contentment (some mentioned earlier) until prog resurrected form the dead in the early 80s. With a wider musical platform to work with, Jojo does her theatrical best with a vast array of lucid vocal accoutrements, that will include talking, yelling, singing, screaming, pleading, bitching, ranting and even raving, along a broad cinematographic palette that defies description, as it bathes in originality and incredible clarity (Eye of Clarion), the style compelling and I daresay, symphonic in nature. The mid-section detonates into a hyper-expressive bluesy guitar rant that will drop more than one jaw, as it raises the melodic bar, permitting Jojo to sing like the wind, swerving like a dervish as if caught up in an out of body experience. The final third subsides into an effect-drenched maelstrom that defies any kind of pop connotation. Insanely tasty.
A decade in the making and fully deserving of a 5-star galaxy.