Imagine this: It’s barely post-pandemic. Your brain is still foggy. You’re not sure whom to hug or trust. You’re sick of Netflix. You’re sick of your house. You’re sick of being sick. You need something, anything, to shake you out of it.
Then along comes Welfare Jazz by Swedish post-punk rockers / goofballs Viagra Boys to slap you across the back of the head and remind you to get back to partying and laughing.
I mean, don’t we all know somebody like the lead character in the opening track, “Ain’t Nice”? Lead singer Sebastian Murphy warns a potential lover about his bad temper (“Trust me, honey, you don’t want me. I’ll start screamin’ if you look at me funny.”) and habits (“I’ll borrow your stuff and never put it back. I’m kinda hungry, could you give me a snack?”). There’s some much good stuff here that it’s difficult to tell who shines the most. Is it Henrik Höckert‘s bass? Elias Jungqvist‘s quirky synth bleeps? Oscar Carls‘ saxophone honks?
“Toad” is a story of a man who can’t settle down with someone who’s perfect for him. “I don’t need no woman tellin’ me when to go to bed and to brush my teeth,” Murphy sings as the rest of the band creates some kind of wild blues chaos behind him that swirls around like a menacing pack of hyenas. On “Into the Sun,” Murphy laments his actions and tries to repair the damage he’s done, but it’s too late. Benjamin Vallé‘s guitar notes are simple and sorrowful. It’s a blues tune hidden in a post-rock cut.
The bouncing synth-bass of “Creatures” is outstanding, and Murphy’s lyrics are a shout-out to those us not controlling the majority of the world’s wealth. “Shooter” is a wild psychedelic jazz instrumental and Tor Sjödén‘s drums on it are as tight as stuff heard on early Devo records. “Secret Canine Agent” is a song about, well, a spy dog.
“Jesus Christ, I feel alive! Just last week I thought that I was gonna die!” Murphy sings on “I Feel Alive,” summing up pretty much everyone’s post-pandemic attitude. The band’s slow juke-joint blues stomp of the song (and Murphy’s vocal delivery), however, reveals our true feelings: exhaustion, confusion, and indecision.
“Girls & Boys” has Murphy (and the rest of the band) in a panic as he tries to figure out what’s going to bring him happiness in a post-pandemic world? Girls? “They always try to tie me down.” Boys? “They stay out all night, don’t go home.” Drugs? “They make me feel I’m all alone.” Love? “Somethin’ that I know nothin’ about.” Shrimp? “Bu-bu-bu-blah-blah-blah-blah.” Dogs? “The only real friends that I got.” So, it’s either dogs or “One day I’m gonna burn it down.”
The album ends with two love songs: “To the Country” and “In Spite of Ourselves.” The first reflects a common desire during the pandemic: Let’s get out of the city and away from everyone where “it would all work out” and “it would be easier.” Or so we think. The instrumentation on it reminds us that you can’t run away from yourself. The second song, featuring Amy Taylor of Amyl and The Sniffers on guest vocals, is about a dysfunctional couple who realize they’re perfect for each other.
Welfare Jazz and all of Viagra Boys’ discography, really, is more clever than you realize at first blush. They write songs that poke fun at toxic masculinity, rich elitists, annoying party girls, drug addicts, and sex freaks, but also make them relatable. You know at least one person described on any given album by them, and Welfare Jazz is full of such characters. It’s like listening to conversations in an all-night diner at 3am, where they’re serving a fried shrimp special, and the diner is in the same block as a bodega, a strip club, and a Radio Shack that is somehow still in business.
Keep your mind open.
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