Vol. 3

In the discourse around new albums from singular, world-buildingartists, the phrase "a big step forward" can often be a blinkingred warning sign. You know you're about to be pulled somewherenew against your will. Inertia is a hell of a thing. It's nice here.Surely, the party's not over yet?JJULIUS' Vol. 3 album is a big step forward, or a step up, out ofthe murky basement of the preceding two volumes. There's notime to acclimate. A spindly violin grabs you by the hand andpulls you into the pastoral bounce of "Brinna ut," which, in spiteof it's meaning ("Burn out"), creates the kind of blind positivityand warm stomach feeling less cynical people might find in selfhelp seminars. For us, we have records like this. And, inertia bedamned, Vol. 3 has charm like a balm.JJULIUS records have always arrived like meteors from anotherplanet, an impression hammered home by the fact that they'retitled like compendiums of artifacts. And while Vols. 1 and 2carried that notable tinge of darkness, Vol. 3 has (almost!) castthat shadow, adding elements of disco ("Dödsdisco") anddream-pop ("Etopisk hallucination") to his forever favorites ArthurRussell, African Head Charge, and The Fall.Some of that new car smell could be attributed to a change inprocess. Each song was written over beats played by Tor Sjödénof the wild-eyed Stockholm group Viagra Boys, beats that werethemselves inspired by tracks from the likes of Patrick Cowley,CAN, Count Ossie, Black Devil Disco Club and others that Juliuswould send to him as inspiration.Unless you're Mark E. Smith, fervor fades. Eventually we all cravea lie down in some nice grass, a few minutes to gaze at the skyand wonder if everything is actually all that bad. Vol. 3 gives you35 of those respiting minutes. "No looking back, no misery, notalking trash, no enemies."