The NYC-by-way-of-Portland duo John Heart Jackie understands the music industry has changed. Their second full-length LP, Episodes, was originally conceived as a collection of singles that would be released steadily over time. Of course, this maneuver is not new, but many artists now see it as a necessary move to make in an oversupplied music market. JHJ decided to forego this route and instead opted for another contemporary industry move: the release of a “visual album.” JHJ’s website currently functions as both information hub and total musical experience. The homepage consists of a faux-Tumblr feed of GIFs and washed out images of fruit and sundry hipster signifiers, all while the opening track of Episodes plays. This sort of layout continues for every song on the album and serves as streaming site and press kit rolled into one. As more of the creative industries partner with one another in an effort to stay afloat in the Internet Age, these total music experiences will only continue to surface. What is Nashville if not the music, television, and tourist industries combined? It’s a cash cow, but how can an indie band keep up?
All the release gimmickry aside, Episodes is a tight indie country release in the vein of early Band of Horses or such publicly impassioned duos as The Civil Wars. Luckily, Episodes replaces the disastrous, star-crossed love of The Civil Wars’ catalogue with wistful electrofolk and an easy sunniness that would risk schmaltz if the duo weren’t so effortless.
The first striking characteristic of JHJ’s effortlessness is their ability to convey mood with fairly typical instrumentation. Album highlight “Race Car” is a relaxed gallop with the essential nü-folk elements – delayed guitar, a loose snare drum, generous doses of reverb – and though it takes nearly two minutes to find its footing, it successfully generates a feeling of weightless forward momentum. And it is a perfect track to illustrate Jennie Wayne’s soft but rich voice, which warbles with the best folk stars but never dips into an unpolished, cutesy affectation.
The foil to “Race Car” would have to be the following track, “If All I Want Is Love,” on which Jennie Wayne gives her best sultry come-on. It’s a million miles away from “Race Car” and reveals JHJ’s songwriting chops. “Honey, you can take me now,” Wayne sings at the beginning, and the rest plays out like a fantasy of sexual submission. But it, like the entirety of Episodes, is an exercise in restraint and less-is-more studio wizardry. It’s more subdued than, say, Gaga’s “Do What U Want,” therefore offering something less infantilized without losing its sex appeal.
Ultimately, though both Jennie Wayne and Peter Murray harmonize well, the tracks featuring Wayne shine the brightest, and even the strongest of those can be found on the second half of the album. After “Nevada City,” a fantastic introduction to JHJ’s open-road sound, the first half of the album veers a little too closely to Lumineers-lite, yet they still never forsake their controlled dynamic. Songs like “We Will Be Wild” and “Seed” hold back without giving everything away, but their stock structures cannot measure up to “Skeleton Heart” or “Forsaker,” another song through which Wayne and Murray channel their brand of mysterious sensuality.
At times, it’s hard to tell who John Heart Jackie are targeting. They may be too sincere for the indiesphere, and they’re (thankfully) too unobtrusive to jockey for position on the charts. Maybe their in-betweenness was the impetus behind their decision to release a visual album. Besides, indie and non-indie have nearly collapsed into one another in the monoculture, so why not join in on a tactic that everyone can enjoy? The irony is, of course, John Heart Jackie need no marketing ploy for Episodes. For the most part, it’s strong enough of a release to stand on its own.