JR JR writes irresistible pop songs—the kind that so delicately toe the line between ingratiating and
charming, between cloying and clever. The group recently dropped the “Dale Earnhardt” section of their band name, but the name change has not resulted in any appreciable difference in sound, no blatant attempt at reigning in their penchant for lighthearted grooves and playful melodies. Their latest self-titled effort is even more buoyant and slick than the group’s preceding records, an obvious reflection of their major label prominence and the band’s astute attention to prevailing pop music trends.
This sensibility was in full view Friday night at the Bottleneck in front of a very small crowd of about 100. The band’s overwrought stage show, complete with giant flashbulbs and glittering lights, seemed at odds with the Bottleneck’s modest confines and dive bar aesthetic, an odd juxtaposition that seemed to suggest the audience take the band more seriously than maybe they should. JR JR’s songs are complex to be sure, they are elaborately layered with electronic flourishes, odd triggers, jarring movements, and an impeccable sense of timing. This night’s set list borrowed heavily from their newest self-titled release, as songs like “As Time Goes” and “Caroline” were faithfully recreated on-stage with all of the verve and pep fully intact.
At times, however, the songs sounded a little thin, the vocals a little off-key, and the bass a bit too
overpowering. JR JR’s songs are so meticulously crafted that one subtle change or quirk—the kinds that are unavoidable in a live setting—can cause things to sound a bit fractured. These moments were rare but noticeable, as the band sometimes struggled to sing their harmonies with the flawlessness that comes so easy in a recording studio full of manipulations and effects.
There was also a languorous monotony that began to settle in after awhile, especially after songs like “James Dean,” a stab at auto- tuned slow-groove R&B that failed to convince. Groups of young 20-somethings seemed distracted with their cell phones, side conversations, and selfies, an object lesson in how sugar-high confections eventually lose their sweetness. Luckily, the band rewarded its most devoted fans—those whose rubber-armed dance moves never wavered—with a barreling, satisfying finish. The night’s last song, “Gone,” is an impossibly joyful song complete with whistle effects, sweeping electronic drums, and the soaring, elevated harmonies of multi-instrumentalists Joshua Epstein and Daniel Zott. The last song of
the evening, “If You Didn’t See Me (Then You Weren’t on the Dance Floor),” should be a dance-club classic, a song with such fervid bounce that Zott decided to join the dance floor himself, a move that brought the show to an exultant conclusion. At this point even the most cynical—myself included—had found the energy to join him in doing the same.