Jordan

Not that I’m one to usually join in such festivities, but Jordan could be one less reason to hate France. That is, assuming you can get into their dancey yet modest, vibrant indie rock.

In a couple ways Jordan remind me of a more loose version of local favorites Encrypt Manuscript minus the jazz freakouts, but that’s probably not the greatest reference point for, oh, 99.99% of you. So let’s maybe say there are hints of caP’n Jazz and a little bit of Q and Not U for good measure.

Jordan sometimes get by with fizzling keyboard lines and, albeit less often, even dramatic piano (“Non Buttare I Soldi Dalla Finestra”), but always with incredibly delicately composed guitar work. It seems like every riff is well-thought out, whether it’s slow, high-pitched picking or full-out, distortion-driven frantic rock moments. But what is consistent on Back to the Gym, Kid! is the yelp of whoever does the main lead vocal -- it gets pretty out of hand in “Montréal,” which some might characterize as a misstep considering it does jumble into a cacophonous mess. Otherwise, its outrageous personality lends a unique quality to the EP.

Back to the Gym, Kid! didn’t have a considerable amount of lasting power with me but it’s hard to deny the number of interesting things going on. Ce n'est pas magnifique...but it ain't half-bad either.

Cabs Are Promising

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Non Buttare I Soldi Dalla Finestra
Tacklin’ Fuel