Johnny Boy

We Say...

Review by Peter Parrish

Ideals are out of style. While freedom of expression couldn’t be healthier, amplified by avenues of communication that are more accessible than ever before — anything of actual substance is diluted by volumes of bland ephemera. Values are passé. Caring is for losers. You actually believe in something? How vulgar.

All of which makes Johnny Boy’s self-released debut that bit more refreshing, because they’re genuinely, magnificently pissed off about something. Ideological conflict may have ended with a flawless victory for capitalism, but that doesn’t mean everybody should give it a free ride. Isn’t it slightly odd that booming, industrialised states carry staggering national debts? Is that CEO really worth two hundred times more than the cleaning staff? How many pairs of shoes do we actually need, anyway? Johnny Boy intelligently and directly embrace such matters.

Ingeniously though, their method of delivery finds gluttonous consumerism twisted against itself. Far from being a dour, tut-tutting finger-wag at the concept of excess, each track is fattened like a delicious pop goose. Layer upon marvellous layer of sound — from walloping drum samples to Motown-cribbed choruses to writhing, processed guitar loops — glisten with the kind of brash, sparkling production that replicates the seductive glow of a bustling city in the evening hours. Every shimmer and shake is a beckoning finger, luring towards this bountiful land of plenty where too much is barely enough. And beneath this multicoloured cascade of aural pleasure, driving it onwards with a grimace and a snarl, lies the perpetual agitation of two angry, yet hopeful dissidents. These are pop music’s very own sleeper agents.