Some pursuits in life don’t have resolutions. As people, there’s a constant sense of magnetism, a yearning that pulls in oft wayward paths to discover something special, unique, and final, something that feels like an answer. It’s a sensitive draw. When surrounded by distractions, the conflicting signals make for haphazard travel, misleading and deceitful when amongst the interests of others. But the pull of answers was a weight Jack Steadman couldn’t shed. Despite having a strong sense of autonomy in the group he lead, Bombay Bicycle Club, the curse of reputation made for stagnation, making murky the paths he desired. Instead he found himself constrained by expectations. Somewhere on the opposite side of the world was an answer to the bubbling and relentless need for fulfillment and in the true fashion of an artist, Steadman crafted a formative journey out of a boundless destination.
Bombay Bicycle Club’s last offering So Long, See You Tomorrow felt like an attempt to chase harmony between conflicting artistic ideals. Heavily influenced by trips to India, strong moments bridged the Brit rock the band was known for with the lively percussion, rhythms and sounds of a new region. Beyond the choice to experiment, the group was starting to show signs of being something they weren’t previously: willingly impressionable. What was once one of the firmest senses of identity in their genre had been slightly challenged by past efforts, yet this album felt like a near total release of the consistencies committed to their sound. Even their previous work A Different Kind of Fix implanted familiar festival belters amidst it’s airy experimentation. So what differed? Bombay Bicycle Club had always been known as a project of Jack Steadman, the man who had written rhythmic, rollicking rock since his teens. A change within the band had to be intrinsically tied to the shy, thin frontman, a slender personification of the foil to the grandiose creativity burgeoning within. In restlessness, he fed on international pleasures. In turn, he found himself in a new identity. Wrapped in a moniker, he flourished.
To understand the new identity of Mr Jukes, the name Steadman adopted, one must understand an element of the culture of music. The accessibility has now brought on a brand new wave of sharing, trading, discussing, and discovering. It’s a special time to celebrate what it means to be a music fan, to take explorative steps in new directions, latching on to fresh releases or revelling in the hidden gems of the past. All of this comes from new technologies, unique to our era, but we always had these drives. The tools are all that differ.
Following World War 2 and swelling in popularity in the late ‘50s to early ‘60s, Japan discovered its newest musical trend: jazz. After American soldiers had brought over old jazz and soul records, a nation became privy to a new genre that challenged convention, pushing the bounds of what traditional music entailed. However, the music was scarce and often a city would be lucky if they got a copy of the new record from an influential artist. Such scarcity could have turned jazz records into an exclusive commodity, ones with high trade values being passed around as an asset as much as art. What developed were Jazz Kissas, or jazz cafes, housing records to be listened to in a public setting. A new culture of sharing and influence popped up where previously people were deprived; a night could now be spent sitting in the same place for hours on end, solitary in a room of strangers, listening to the newest release wash over a room with a palpable weight of significance. The same way we connect over sending a song was the energy flowing through groups of individuals united in a celebration of creation and art. This culture and the significance of music pushed the project Steadman intended to be an observance of what made music unique as a product of expression, unifying separate entities through common appreciation and reverence. This was Steadman’s magnetism; this was his answer.
Following World War 2 and swelling in popularity in the late ‘50s to early ‘60s, Japan discovered its newest musical trend: jazz. After American soldiers had brought over old jazz and soul records, a nation became privy to a new genre that challenged convention, pushing the bounds of what traditional music entailed. However, the music was scarce and often a city would be lucky if they got a copy of the new record from an influential artist. Such scarcity could have turned jazz records into an exclusive commodity, ones with high trade values being passed around as an asset as much as art. What developed were Jazz Kissas, or jazz cafes, housing records to be listened to in a public setting. A new culture of sharing and influence popped up where previously people were deprived; a night could now be spent sitting in the same place for hours on end, solitary in a room of strangers, listening to the newest release wash over a room with a palpable weight of significance. The same way we connect over sending a song was the energy flowing through groups of individuals united in a celebration of creation and art. This culture and the significance of music pushed the project Steadman intended to be an observance of what made music unique as a product of expression, unifying separate entities through common appreciation and reverence. This was Steadman’s magnetism; this was his answer.
The sense of community surrounding Japanese jazz culture swayed Steadman towards new ideas, but each concept would have felt incomplete if it didn’t come back to the sense of togetherness he found himself spending countless evenings in. Whether it was sitting alone or talking amongst the people, the music provoked a unity and bond that earned reverence both from and between the individuals staying in the space. God First answers the question of what that sounds like. Implanting various samples he discovered through his journeys, there’s a lavish love letter left lingering underneath lush brass and bountiful, bodacious vocals. This is an album that shows progression in the purest sense: a development and improvement on the past. It’s hard to ignore the smooth, luxurious bass rhythmically carrying “Angels/Your Love” beneath chopped up brass samples looped and contorted into new life. The song carries an aura of neo-classicalism with regards to jazz, a rewiring of established elements. The masterful production puts punchy hooks at the tail end of the tune with BJ the Chicago Kid taking center stage, instantly imprinting an identity on the track, one that isn’t Steadman’s. This isn’t the only time on the album he takes a backseat to a dominant personality. On “Grant Green” - aptly named after a Grant Green track was discovered at a Jazz Kissa and sampled - Charles Bradley’s wails provide the exclamation point to the rhythm, demanding attention to the simplicity with respect to the original recording. The openness and accepting of such larger than life personalities is a main component of why God First blossoms in the warmth of collaboration.
In a bizarre sense of self-referentiality, the lifeblood of Mr Jukes’s music is music itself. One listen of “From Golden Stars Comes Silver Dew” shows how a classic track can be treated with emphasis and love to create something new and beautiful. Instantly, hooks get caught in your head. The guitar loop will rhythmically bounce between ears to facilitate an endless head bob and sway while choral voices ease you into an uninhibited lull. Beyond that, phantom nostalgia washes over you as the antiquated feels homey, drawing from an experience never had yet implanted in your head as a feeling. As with all music, there is a love towards the tracks, but this feels more palpable and sincere than what’s come before it because of the connection to the songs sampled. Steadman finds himself within a discourse of two hypothetical, artistic bodies of reference and reimagination making each track unique yet familiar in its own regard. Additionally, the imaginative manipulation of vocals laid by any of the features or Steadman himself crafts a three dimensional space for him to craft a cozy nook welcoming you stay for awhile and experience strong evocations. Simply get lost in “Magic” as you’ll find vocals coming from every which direction building an atmosphere that feels spacious and whole. It’s a rare track on God First as it’s more sparse, yet it reflects the isolation one can find oneself in and asks you to be both introspective and comfortable within it, much like a sense of community.
