Josef K
Entomology

The history of British pop is dotted with a myriad of capable or, in some cases, even brilliant bands that never received the proper recognition both at the level of criticism and popularity. Josef K perfectly embody the model of a meteor band to which the right merits were never recognized, as immense is the legacy that these young lads from Edinburgh left with just a handful of recordings to their credit, all between 1979 and 1981.

Losers, dandies, shameless citationists (the name they chose for themselves ring a bell?) and with a tendency to never take themselves too seriously, Josef K were among the champions of that wave which someone defined as "Sound of Young Scotland". More sprightly than their cousins Orange Juice, less pretentious than their protégés Aztec Camera - who boasted in their line-up none other than Malcolm Ross, guitarist of the band in question - the four found the right alchemy to survive intact for thirty years of dust. Listening to 'Entomology' today is a punch to the stomach: the genuineness and freshness of the sound is impressive, despite a recording quality not always up to par; the modernity of their melodic approach surprises, caught in a net of frenzy. It only took Franz Ferdinand (not coincidentally Scottish) and similar bands to transform certain sounds into clichés in just a couple of seasons, but the success and fame of these gentlemen will never give enough credit to Josef K and the genius of their leader Paul Haig - destined, after the band's breakup, to a solo career of scant satisfaction.

Twenty-five years after their first and only LP (also released posthumously) 'The Only Fun in Town', to say nothing of twenty-six since the project, later abandoned, for the album 'Sorry For Laughing', in 2006 comes 'Entomology', the most complete and exhaustive collection in which a newcomer can venture to discover the wonders that Josef K dispense. It is a collection of authentic pearls, released at the time under the Postcard Records label, which today shine more than ever, thanks to the contribution that some bands such as Bloc Party, The Rakes, and the aforementioned Franz Ferdinand have made in recent years in reviving the more harmonic side of the new wave.

The choice to open the album with the two most atypical pieces of the entire Josef K production is peculiar: first "Radio Drill Time", a gray and suffering picture that would be the perfect soundtrack for a Kafkaesque novel; then "It's Kinda Funny", one of Paul Haig's masterpieces, an aching ballad that tells of weakness and solitude on which a sly voice unravels ("so I'll disappear through the crack on the wall / and the memories I leave will be nothing at all"). Anyone approaching these notes for the first time might now think of Josef K as depressed bards of existential grayness, sacrificing obvious rhythmic ambitions in favor of a slow-motion post-punk for nostalgic bohemians. Then "Final Request" comes to dismantle the listener's expectations, with its schizophrenic tangle of strings on which ethereal piano notes lay, and a theatrical singing that appears awry but actually fits perfectly between the lines. For further confirmation that Haig and company are traveling at a very, very high speed, "Heads Watch" arrives to dispel any doubt: a two-minute outburst built on a dark and monotonous bass line, boasting one of the best solos remembered from the new wave era. "Drone" instead detours down the funky road, in an irresistible ballet of pulsations and dissonances, while "Sense of Guilt" approaches the atmosphere of the more industrial Joy Division. "Citizens" reveals the impeccability of the Josef K brand rhythmic section: the intro is spectacularly bounced between David Weddel's bass and Ronnie Torrance's syncopated drumming, folks who unequivocally have rhythm in their blood. After the sinister noir film interlude of "Variation of Scene", infested with disorienting synth shards, here is one of the most intense episodes of the album: the riff that opens "Endless Soul" is one that gets tattooed in your head and promises never to leave you again. It exudes a dull melancholy, chilling; Haig's voice is now composed but full of despair. A portrait in dark tones, torn by vague flashes of white light. But there is no time for accesses of hypersensitivity, Josef K's music is like that, with one foot in the grave and one on the dance floor: you can only loosen your joints to the frenetic rhythm of "Sorry For Laughing", a pop-song of stunning perfection, made unforgettable by a more playful vocal than ever ("You know I loved you if I could / but both my arms are made of wood"). In 1980 it was the single that launched the band before its premature implosion; today it is the flagship of the timid resurrection it is experiencing, with a special thanks to the French Nouvelle Vague, who some years ago presented a tender and dreamy version of it. And if "Revelation" is nothing but proof of how seminal this sound is, practically a manual for today's generation lent to the new wave revival, "Chance Meeting" presents itself as a sincere love song that anyone would love to have dedicated to them, benevolent and traversed by a subtle vein of nostalgia. "Pictures (Of Cindy)" is another one of the absolute masterpieces of the band: it starts slow and ethereal, with instruments that seem to take shape out of nowhere, then it reveals itself as a puzzle of continuous changes of pace in which Paul Haig has fun toying with the most serious listeners with his nonchalant demeanor. "Fun 'N' Frenzy" plays with the early Cure and nonetheless with the legendary Morricone soundtracks; "Crazy to Exist", "Forever Drone", and "16 Years" are pop music jewels at a thousand miles an hour. 'Heart of Song' is truly a love of a song as the title suggests, marked by the omnipresence of an exquisitely funky guitar now hailed as a trademark. "The Angle", which is based on a love-at-first-listen bass line, is a puzzle where the instruments seem to fit together perfectly, creating a sonic carpet on which the singer's theater goes on stage with impeccable timing. "Heaven Sent" is a captivating intertwining of guitars in a measured step; "The Missionary," with its martial pace, travels halfway between Gang of Four and the early Talking Heads. "Applebush," that closes frivolously, in full Josef K style, is surely the most dispensable episode of the batch, a soft reinterpretation of a piece by Alice Cooper from '69 (!).

For those who want to change mood three times a second, for those looking for a colorful array of emotions in a single record, the twenty-two fragments that make up 'Entomology' are as good as it gets. Josef K amuse, move, make you cry and dance, slap the undisputed pillars of post-punk with a glove, impregnating their music with an unparalleled self-irony. It is a pity that so much genius has left to posterity nothing more than a handful of songs, evocative, beautiful, so full of life that they appear more current today than they were at the time of their birth. It is a pity that few have noticed, in all these years, the existence of a band in front of which dozens of groups imposing themselves today as novelties (but are actually great-grandsons) could only pale. These words are not meant to throw mud on those who make music with heart, but rather to raise doubts about the presumed originality of a certain sound, often praised, which now pervades indie culture. Much of this flour comes from a bag that Josef K abandoned somewhere many, too many years ago. It would be time to bring it back to light.

Let the repugnant cockroach that dominates the cover of "Entomology" infest your stereo, but beware, it won't leave easily. This is a nightmare straight out of Kafka's pages, even if it looks like a joke. Let these notes fill your rooms. So that Young Scotland from once upon a time, can play on forever.