In the space of a mere nine months or so, Memphis native JAY REATARD has established himself as something of a golden boy and put himself into the (un)enviable position of the 'guy most likely to' in the months preceding the arrival of his debut album proper.
Thus, you don't need to have Mensa membership to work out that the self-explanatory 'Matador Singles '08' isn't Jay's debut album. Instead, it rounds up all the A and B-sides of his singles thus far, all of which have exhorted the critics to go into raptures of the most ecstatic kind. Its' arrival is also most welcome to would-be members of his fan club, because the five original 7” releases came in seriously limited editions (3,500 being the largest run) and Reatard has gained instant notoriety courtesy of the fact fan downloading frenzy has brought down the Matador server twice in recent times.
All good for the image, of course, but it's actually when you get down to business and listen to Reatard's wares when you realise there is indeed something quite special going down here. Yes, Jay may broadly be operating within a 'power pop' field and hail from Memphis, but if you're about to make the inevitable Big Star comparison, then don't bother, because it's well wide of the mark. Actually, you only have to catch the brunt of the frenetic opener 'See/Saw' with its' scrubbed, Wedding Present-style guitars, abrasive vocal delivery and weirdly catchy kiss-off line (“she creeps me out, she crept me in again”) to realise Reatard has something deliciously idiosyncratic to call his own.
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And so it proves across the feverish brevity of the next 22 minutes or so, when Jay can be everything from cranked, melodic and snarly ('Screaming Hand', the petulant 'Always Wanting More') through to dramatic and leery ('An Ugly Death') and simply patently odd ('Fluorescent Grey' with its' echoed chorus of “patiently, patiently!”), though crucially he's never less than compelling whatever he seems to turn his hand to: even the short bursts of seriously hard pop-punk rocking he conjures from the depths on 'Hiding In My Hole'. The production is usually mid-fi at best, but the slightly grimy feel and gnarly edges suit Reatard's bug-eyed modus operandi and even the little touches (especially that cheesier than cheesy organ) just seem absolutely damn right in these scuzzy surroundings.
It's all over bar the shouting after a boisterous 25 minutes, but with a sixth single ('No Time') ready to hit the racks (featuring a track written in the style of Tall Dwarfs and featuring the word 'c**t' apparently) and that debut album proper due early next year, it looks as though a Jay Reatard feeding frenzy will dominate pop's shark-infested waters next year. Watch where you're dipping your toes in the near future.
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