V is not a whimper. V is a bang. V is the sound of JJ wrestling with their past successes, a “fuck you” to the haters and a love letter to anyone who’s ever had a summer soundtracked by n° 2.
Though scattershot emotional mayhem, this album is a resounding triumph.
On V, they play the magpies once again, but the fragmentary citations augment the songs rather than drive them, setting the emotional tenor but never standing clearly in the spotlight.
V (confusingly, the duo's third album) works, and works rather well, on the strength of its ability to cultivate a woozy, needy mood.
The songs are still soft as snow, with new age fantastic synths shimmering in the mist and hip-hop influences intruding like party crashers. JJ don't have another trick up their sleeves and that's fine; they haven't worn this one out yet.
Though it does often feel like JJ have hit a wall on V, when they're able to scale that wall and dance with the stars, the album's a treat.
You have to admire the experimentation and musical audacity demonstrated on this album - it’s a shame that it doesn’t always work in jj’s favour.
The change comes down to a sound that has been scrubbed to within an inch of its life, removing JJ's insular mystery and emerging like Coldplay without the singalong choruses. The result is not just unimaginative and lyrically anodyne – it’s boring.
With maybe one exception, each track on V comes across as confusingly empty, with the juice of the song either coming right before the end or never at all.
#32 | / | Pigeons & Planes |