Javelin - No Mas on Luaka Bop

Not too shabby for a mid-day impulse buy, especially considering the three deep bloody Mary perspective from whence I made the trade of dollars for vinyl. How the hell could I refrain? After all, the cover has a Kris Kristofferson looking apparition with snow leopards pouncing from a mountain of ice behind ol’ Kris’ face. Mind you, this is all before an actual listen to this album, nay, even before ever hearing nary a whimper of cousins George Langford and Tom Van Buskirk, purveyors of reigned weirdness that is actually perfectly far out music for kids. One can’t even begin to imagine the joy of hearing the wildly varying contents within.

“No Mas” glides out on the good foot with a hazy down tempo, distilled embodiment of the feelings one has of summer mornings before the big trip to an amusement park or the “festival of the season.” Surely, you can empathize with the spirit of “Vibrationz.” You can’t sleep the night before so you anxiously toss back can after can of PBR dreaming of what the weekend may hold. From the jump off, the listener believes, incorrectly, that what they hold in their hot little hands is the typical Luaka Bop fare--- (after all, sometimes you buy by label, and sometimes you gamble and lose)-- worldly drenched amalgams ranging from East India to Chile. Alas, Javelin is sufficiently savvy to anticipate that expectation, and pitches several delightful, and yes, a few sometimes predictable, curves. For example, “Oh Centra,” a little ditty previously released on Lal Lal Lal, with its sub bass funkiness and its almost offensive Alvin and the Chimpmunk-esque pitched vocals manages to endear the listener, perhaps for its Salt-n-Peppa bass break, but maybe just because it’s cool, whether you care to admit it or not.

Anyway, brethren, the constant dynamism tends to give “No Mas” the aura of lacking focus, but on the positive, samples out Javelin’s warez as though they were a tag-team, compilation machine. Hell, that’s why I bought it. I inquired as to what was playing, on my weekly binging spree, and mistakenly thinking that it was several different artists, was politely corrected…”Nah man, it’s Javelin.” Ignorant me, it sounded like a Numero Group release, followed by Basement Jaxx, and then as I zoned back in from an impenetrable wander through the experimental section, something Motown sounding. Well, now you know why it was an impulse buy, but I digress.

Now, after aurally consuming some of their earlier releases, as we junkies are oft known to do, this album seems polished, like boots at the airport. Yes, the hiss and fuzz and lo-fi, which we’ve all grown to love, has been toned down, but in the most loveliest of ways, and not all that much. If you need proof, come to my basement and listen to “We Ah Wi” as we shimmy and shake,

So, to avoid any implications of impropriety and to be thorough in my job, it’s only fair that I address the B-side as well. As if the variation on the first side weren’t ample, “Moscow 1980” sounds like M83 and Luomo’s love child dancing in a field of daisies and synthesizers, in a pure electro-pop heaven, sliding you off into a personal Indian Summer day dream. Further progressing on a similar trajectory, though seemingly divergent, the late 60’s funk style “The Merkin Jerk” continues on the quest for the ultimate dreaminess. Here, however, the day dream is more of a Haight-Ashbury thing, and, unfortunately, seems incomplete, leaving the listener wondering if the remainder was stashed in a retro-future time capsule or if someone accidentally smoked it.

To round out the series of, what I believe to be, a fairly thorough first LP proper, are the monotonous “C Town,” the ersatz chamber music and xylophonic “Off My Mind,” the back-track for a Mos Def-like interlude, “Susie Cues” (sure to become an effective transition for the DJs and producers out there), and several more, which deserve their own treatment. “Shadow Heart” and “DEP,” in particular, invoke a longing and homesickness for the corridor, because of their likeness to Motown and P-Funk throwbacks that seem to age gracefully, gaining rather than loosing flavor. In fact, I’d wished that my friends were with me here as I pen this piece. Yet, my worries are short-lived, for if you are concerned with my opinion, than we too are friends, and sharing with you is tantamount to being with friends near and far. It is for this reason, the warmth inducing familiarity of an old friend that this album conjures, that you should give this record a listen. After you have well spent those 80 plus minutes, you too will be a convert to Javelin’s diversity and wit.