Album Review: Junior Boys - Begone Dull Care
The Junior Boys' similarly titled new album was purportedly inspired by the work of McLaren (a fellow Canadian, natch), although one would be hard-pressed to find the similarities between the late film legend's fastidious canon and their electro-oeuvre. There is a comfortable wistfulness about them and their knack for conjuring the numb, almost euphoric resignation that occurs before one freezes to death on a glacier made entirely of frozen hipster ex-girlfriends. For our money, they still vaguely remind us of Taco, albeit in an admirable way.
Initially, Begone maintains the happy dread that peppered their previous work. "Parallel Lines" is vintage JB, vague lamentations on relationship complications snug between appealing synth breaks and white-boy-baby-don't-go falsetto. So it is that right off the bat one happily realizes that, for better or worse, we're probably getting Disc 2 of 2006's So This Is Goodbye. Fine with us.
"Work It" is a slightly different animal, baring its teeth in a rather threatening arpeggio line, Kraftwerk-ing through almost six and a half minutes. Don't be surprised if you hear "Bits & Pieces" at the next youthful rave-up you're pounding Cape Cods at. It's a mod wheel masterpiece, popping lines of Smarties upon the glass coffee table of this collection. The glib prettiness of "Dull To Pause," pats you on your head as you head to the next track wondering if you just detected some commendably well-placed pedal steel runs. You did. Gettin' down to bizness, "Sneak a Picture" could have been a Barry White track if he would have had cybernetic prosthetics installed to keep him rolling into the 2020s. Suffice it to say: it's a bit funky. "What It's For" is appropriately ambient for the end of an LP, tucking in the listener tight, each trembling layer positioned for maximum efficacy, ending with one minute and thirty-eight seconds of a single, solid tone.
There's little of McLaren's trailblazing spirit in this set, and in sixty years if critics and fans are yammering excitedly over telepathic holodiscs of Begone Dull Care, we've probably hit a cultural wall somewhere; in this case, weak homage is probably sufficient. Regardless of the spurious connection between the album's ostensible reference point and the actual content, Begone is a satisfying listen, losing points only for a willful lack of evolution and a touch of self-duplication ("Hazel" is a B-side, guys), minor quibbles both when you consider that-of all the fluorescent-hatted electro outfits squirming about in front of pawn shop-purchased Moogs-the J-Boys are a breed once-removed, possessing a singular voice and an easy expertise that transcends the techno-trappings of their peers. Begone finds them again demonstrating the feasibility of creating synth-heavy pop you can both dance AND cry to. Simultaneously, if the situation arises.
