jj n° 3

We knew next to nothing about Swedish duo jj when their debut arrived last summer, but it hardly mattered because the music communicated so much on its own. jj n° 2 was a cosmopolitan record that took its cues from a variety of genres-- Balearic dance, bookish indie pop, and hip-hop-- but put them together in classic Swedish fashion with loads of hooks. It was breezy without being drifty, humorous without being goofy, and even tender and romantic when it needed to be. Th e production was effortlessly bouyant-- its tropical synths and stuttering beats propping up cooing vocals-- and even during a season that saw no shortage of balmy sounds, the album still felt like a warm gust of Mediterranean air.

In music, there's something romantic about being faceless, something easy to love about a sound you can't attach to a portrait. The cloak of mystery allows an artist to do what she does best: use the materials of art to evoke senses, memories, or moods in her listeners, without having to weather a hailstorm of premature and uninformed judgments. Unfortunately, like the haze of infatuation in a love affair, mystery is difficult to sustain; most artists who first appeared out of nowhere end up exposing their true face after a couple releases. For fans, the revealed knowledge doesn't kill the thrill, but it makes it hard to get caught up in new ones. What was achieved by stealth has to be replicated under the watching eyes of a fickle and jaded audience.