jj – n° 3 (2010) [Secretly Canadian] // Grade: A-

Lest you worry that the rampant acclaim of jj’s last album put them in a more somber, austere sort of place, rest assured: n° 3‘s opening track is essentially a Game cover. They’ve shoved it into a real boozy little ballad—Frida Hyvonen on Dilauded or something—but it’s still Game. It’s still jj.

But we don’t really know jj, do we? Be it aesthetic decision, run-of-the-mill social awkwardness or some combo of both, the Swedish indie-pop duo (meets modern soul and ambient twee and whatever else) are clearly fond of operating under a lead cloak of mystery. It’s a ghostliness that made n° 2 even more immediate: a discovery, an unearthing. The kick of digging into an album that had few discernible roots. And though we understand them a bit more now—thanks in part to their signing with Secretly Canadian—n° 3 has that same sense of unreality. I mean, I know the pair’s from Sweden, but these songs could very well have come from, like, Atlantis or something.

“Let Go”. All baroque twinkles; an underwater boardwalk dream. The hasty new-age bossa “Voi Parlate, Io Gioco”. “And Now” and its ballooning strings, the danceable glitter of “Into The Light”. There’s not a corner of n° 3 untouched by a sort of teal enchantment, even while Elin Kastlander—what a throaty, red-wine sort of girl—croons heartbreak and reluctant happiness, the endless hope for escape. Thematically, or at least sonically, the album is little more than a second leg to n° 2. But listen again: it’s fuller, more immersed. If n° 2 was the sound of kids forced to grow up way too fast, n° 3 is those same kids actually growing up.

Of course, that doesn’t kill the the occasional bout of  rough and tumble whimsy, if such a thing is possible. See: Game’s “My Life”, the Knife-like thump of “Golden Virginia” and a whole bunch of jaunty rhythms that giggle at themselves just as often as they evoke melancholy. Still with the sense of humor. Still so tough and lovely. Still jj.

- Rue Sauvage