Jean-Michel Jarre:
Zoolook:
Rendezvous:
Revolutions:
Waiting For Cousteau:
Chronology:
After the 2014 reissues of his most essential albums (Oxygene and Equinoxe should be in every home), comes the somewhat patchy mid-period of the Frenchman's canon. All have some redeeming features, none are spectacular, all are mid-priced and contain zilch in the way of additional material.
Interest in Jarre started to peak around the time of his Concerts In China album and broadcasts so what better way to follow it up than with the tame Zoolook (★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆). Whereas technology was the man's slave during his formative years, here it is definitely the master of his destiny. Dated sampled 'ethnic' voices, clunky beats and even clunkier melodies, Zoolook is very much of 1984 and had the distinction of being the composer's poorest-selling album until 2007's Teo and Tea. One listen confirms all and apart from some of Diva and the title-track ('some' not 'all'), there is little to commend it. A friend of mine once termed it Poolook. How we laughed.
Much improved was 1986's Rendezvous (★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆). Back with huge HUGE synths and another trademark Michel Granger sleeve, Jarre's fourth studio-album was nonetheless riddled with faults. All starts well with the ambient opening passage and even the recognisable Wagneresque second movement, all eleven minutes of it, is passable if you like BIG compositions. Of course with all JMJ albums, there's a catchy 'hit' and part four doesn't disappoint with its pretty melody and wooshing noises aplenty. But most of the rest of Rendezvous is turgid and overblown and a shadow of his former self.
The '80s bore more Jarre fruit in the guise of Revolutions (★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆) With less of the long drawn out symphonies of old and some, erm, industrial beats, this fifth set comprises a mixture of the dramatic (opening sequences), dad-pop with Hank Marvin of The Shadows (London Kid) and the downright ridiculous (The Emigrant). Somewhere during proceedings, Jarre drank in some Kraftwerk juice (on Revolution, Revolution) and watched some Miami Vice re-runs (Computer Weekend) for inspiration. It didn't help.
1990's Waiting For Cousteau (★★★★★★★☆☆☆) is a curious beast - one side of the vinyl version featured three variants of a Caribbean-influenced electro-calypso track (not quite as hideous as the description suggests) and the other featured one of Jarre's most atmospheric (and lengthiest) works. Calypso varies from jolly ear-fodder to leaden synth-pomp in 17 short minutes with the second part being the most approachable 25 years on. But it's the title-track that deserves your attention. Fans of Brian Eno's Neroli or Music For Airports could do worse than hear Jarre's aquatic take on the genre. At 46 minutes in length (twice the length of the vinyl version), this piece is worth the admission alone and a braver record-label would have plugged it as the main track. Echoey piano, under-water sound-effects, very little in the way of pomposity and obviously dedicated to the great French sea-adventurer Jacques Cousteau, it's a fitting epic homage to the man who brought the deep oceans into our living room before Attenborough.
Sadly, his next album Chronology (★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆) proved that Cousteau was an ambient one-off and it was to be a return to the big, bold, brash synthetics of yore. It's not all a disaster though with parts 2 and 4 sounding a tad like The Human League or OMD (the mid-'80s incarnations, mind) and part 6 sounding a little (a little) bit like Orbital, I kid you not. Overall, a passable if not entirely convincing album - on part 8, he throws every bloody sampled noise into the blender and comes out smelling of canals.
2014 Reissues
I mentioned reissues of his earlier work at the beginning of this round-up and here they are, all remastered for your delectation. Oxygene (★★★★★★★★★☆) and Equinoxe (★★★★★★★★★☆) might hail from the '70s but they're no slouches when it comes to listenability. Both sound timeless and demand respect for doing very little other than delight and enchant. Follow-up Magnetic Fields (★★★★★★★☆☆☆) continues the moody theme, despite suffering from having a cheesy closer called The Last Rhumba, and the double-disc Concerts In China (★★★★★★★☆☆☆) celebrates an impressive set of shows in the Far East, delivered by the first Westerner allowed to perform on Chinese soil. There are a few new compositions to savour, including the single Orient Express and the Art Of Noise-esque Souvenir De Chine.
Zoolook:
Rendezvous:
Revolutions:
Waiting For Cousteau:
Chronology:
Interest in Jarre started to peak around the time of his Concerts In China album and broadcasts so what better way to follow it up than with the tame Zoolook (★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆). Whereas technology was the man's slave during his formative years, here it is definitely the master of his destiny. Dated sampled 'ethnic' voices, clunky beats and even clunkier melodies, Zoolook is very much of 1984 and had the distinction of being the composer's poorest-selling album until 2007's Teo and Tea. One listen confirms all and apart from some of Diva and the title-track ('some' not 'all'), there is little to commend it. A friend of mine once termed it Poolook. How we laughed.
Much improved was 1986's Rendezvous (★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆). Back with huge HUGE synths and another trademark Michel Granger sleeve, Jarre's fourth studio-album was nonetheless riddled with faults. All starts well with the ambient opening passage and even the recognisable Wagneresque second movement, all eleven minutes of it, is passable if you like BIG compositions. Of course with all JMJ albums, there's a catchy 'hit' and part four doesn't disappoint with its pretty melody and wooshing noises aplenty. But most of the rest of Rendezvous is turgid and overblown and a shadow of his former self.
The '80s bore more Jarre fruit in the guise of Revolutions (★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆) With less of the long drawn out symphonies of old and some, erm, industrial beats, this fifth set comprises a mixture of the dramatic (opening sequences), dad-pop with Hank Marvin of The Shadows (London Kid) and the downright ridiculous (The Emigrant). Somewhere during proceedings, Jarre drank in some Kraftwerk juice (on Revolution, Revolution) and watched some Miami Vice re-runs (Computer Weekend) for inspiration. It didn't help.
1990's Waiting For Cousteau (★★★★★★★☆☆☆) is a curious beast - one side of the vinyl version featured three variants of a Caribbean-influenced electro-calypso track (not quite as hideous as the description suggests) and the other featured one of Jarre's most atmospheric (and lengthiest) works. Calypso varies from jolly ear-fodder to leaden synth-pomp in 17 short minutes with the second part being the most approachable 25 years on. But it's the title-track that deserves your attention. Fans of Brian Eno's Neroli or Music For Airports could do worse than hear Jarre's aquatic take on the genre. At 46 minutes in length (twice the length of the vinyl version), this piece is worth the admission alone and a braver record-label would have plugged it as the main track. Echoey piano, under-water sound-effects, very little in the way of pomposity and obviously dedicated to the great French sea-adventurer Jacques Cousteau, it's a fitting epic homage to the man who brought the deep oceans into our living room before Attenborough.
Sadly, his next album Chronology (★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆) proved that Cousteau was an ambient one-off and it was to be a return to the big, bold, brash synthetics of yore. It's not all a disaster though with parts 2 and 4 sounding a tad like The Human League or OMD (the mid-'80s incarnations, mind) and part 6 sounding a little (a little) bit like Orbital, I kid you not. Overall, a passable if not entirely convincing album - on part 8, he throws every bloody sampled noise into the blender and comes out smelling of canals.
2014 Reissues
I mentioned reissues of his earlier work at the beginning of this round-up and here they are, all remastered for your delectation. Oxygene (★★★★★★★★★☆) and Equinoxe (★★★★★★★★★☆) might hail from the '70s but they're no slouches when it comes to listenability. Both sound timeless and demand respect for doing very little other than delight and enchant. Follow-up Magnetic Fields (★★★★★★★☆☆☆) continues the moody theme, despite suffering from having a cheesy closer called The Last Rhumba, and the double-disc Concerts In China (★★★★★★★☆☆☆) celebrates an impressive set of shows in the Far East, delivered by the first Westerner allowed to perform on Chinese soil. There are a few new compositions to savour, including the single Orient Express and the Art Of Noise-esque Souvenir De Chine.