Jakko M. Jakszyk

You've no doubt read reviews that essentially give an album a "thumbs down" not because the record in question is inherently "bad," but because, in the reviewer's opinion, the styles on display just don't go well together. If you tend to get nitpicky about incongruous musical juxtapositions -- and in particular if you are a fan of avant-prog but not prog rock of a more commercial bent -- then you might have a few problems with The Bruised Romantic Glee Club by guitarist, composer, and singer Jakko M. Jakszyk. Not that he does anything badly -- in fact, Jakszyk is clearly capable of some fine music, and he sure has some impressive friends. But this two-CD set sounds rather like two very different albums cobbled together, as Jakszyk basically admits in the liner notes. Jakko says he had originally envisioned his album as "largely instrumental with a couple of songs thrown in," but then life events -- including his father's death -- intervened, leading Jakszyk to explore "some uncomfortable corners of the past" through song. And here's where the reviewer is placed at a disadvantage: it can appear callous to respond coolly to expressions of heartfelt emotion related to adoption, the search for one's birth mother, and the death of a parent -- the inspirations here for such Jakszyk songs as "Highgate Hill" and "Forgiving." Being a naysayer about songs like these is a bit like voting against Gandhi at the 1982 Academy Awards -- how do you vote against a movie whose subject is Gandhi, for chrissakes? Well, sorry, but the meaningful original songs on the first disc of The Bruised Romantic Glee Club do fit rather poorly with the covers of '60s and '70s art rock classics on the rather short (35-plus-minute) second disc, vintage numbers from King Crimson, Soft Machine, and Henry Cow, performed with help from such cult figures as Dave Stewart, Hugh Hopper, Mel Collins, and Ian Wallace (Robert Fripp and Ian MacDonald show up on the first CD).

In a clear case of the tail wagging the dog, the all-covers disc might very well be the most interesting stuff here for the type of listeners Jakszyk seems interested in attracting in the first place -- so the second disc is likely to hit the player first. And right off the bat, Stewart (just like during his own good old days) does his best Ratledge on "As Long as He Lies Perfectly Still" from Soft Machine's Volume Two. King Crimson's "Pictures of a City" is transmogrified into "Pictures of an Indian City" (thankfully Jakszyk went the In the Wake of Poseidon route instead of attempting something along the lines of "21st Century Sanskrit Man") and emerges as an overall highlight, complete with all the requisite tight ensemble passages but now featuring Pandit Dinesh on tabla and Jakszyk on "sitar guitars." Henry Cow's "Nirvana for Mice" includes all the tricky parts a Leg End fan could hope for, thanks to Stewart's programming, and Jakko's David Torn-ish guitar is impressive in a new middle section, although Gavin Harrison's drumming (noted in the liners as being in 21/8) could, as elsewhere across both discs, benefit from a lighter touch. Thankfully, King Crimson drummer Ian Wallace brings just the level of subtlety many of the other tracks lack in a reworking of the title track from Islands, featuring Mel Collins on beautiful soprano sax where Marc Charig soloed on the original -- this actually improves on the Crimso version, and there is genuine poignancy when one realizes that "Islands" is one of the late Wallace's final recorded performances. The first disc is not without its pleasures that would have fit nicely on the second, particularly the instrumental "Catley's Ashes," with its intricate arrangement of saxes and guitars over a cruising 7/8 rhythm; it is reminiscent of "Mederno Ballabile," a killer tune from Italian avant-prog band Picchio dal Pozzo's Abbiamo Tutti I Suoi Problemi, which itself sounds like a warped mix of Zappa and Hatfield and the North. The mood turns a bit toward new age in the somewhat overly embellished piano/acoustic guitar instrumental "The Things We Throw Away," which has its lovely aspects particularly when viewed through the Canterbury-esque prism of a tune like Alan Gowen's "Arriving Twice" as performed by Gilgamesh or National Health. But elsewhere the influences -- echoes of David Sylvian and Peter Gabriel, for example -- are more polished and slickly "atmospheric" than any material Jakszyk might draw from Volume Two, Poseidon, and Leg End. Ultimately, Henry Cow's "The Citizen King" and Jakko's "When We Go Home" really are from different musical universes. But rather than give The Bruised Romantic Glee Club a thumbs down, let's just diagnose a case of split-personality disorder. After all, its bruised heart is in the right place. Not unlike Gandhi, perhaps. ~ Dave Lynch, All Music Guide