by Conor Lochrie (@conornoconnor)
Jarrow is the pseudonym for Dan Oke, a prolific member of Melbourne’s DIY music community. He’s acted as drummer for several noteworthy outfits, including the excellent indie-pop band House Deposit but his Jarrow vehicle feels like him as his truest self - Oke belongs as the front man, pouring out his quirky pop hooks and irreverent storytelling.
The self-titled LP was released with much of the album being recorded in bedrooms around Melbourne and the sound has a decidedly homespun and earnest quality. All of the album was written and performed by Oke himself, aside from a saxophone solo from his dad David on “Product x Prodigy”. This being his third album, though, means that the production is slicker and finer now, while still maintaining the spirit of his previous releases.
His sound is a refreshing outlier, not adhering to the prevailing punk and jangle pop tendencies that permeate Melbourne. Jarrow hums with the playfulness and vivacity of experimental bedroom pop antecedents. Oke has previously spoken of his admiration for David Byrne before and the striving for individuality that shines through on the record makes this connection clear. On “Easter 2012,” for instance, Oke delivers a strange spoken word piece (“As I follow this angel/To my bladder oasis”) that relays a funny misunderstanding in a Philadelphia bookstore when the staff member thinks he wishes to be directed to the Twilight DVDs rather than the bathroom.
The third single “Keep A Tab (On All My Friends)” is the record’s highlight, a contemplative but upbeat indie-pop colossus. In a darkly ironic twist, the track was actually written by Oke several years ago, when he was going through some big life changes, but it feels so fitting being released in 2020, a sad anthem for everyone currently missing seeing their own friends during the COVID-19 lockdown; watching the accompanying video, as Oke takes a Zoom conference call with friends of his in the Melbourne music scene and they place sections of the song alongside him, it’s not difficult to feel its timeliness and relevance.
It’s another strong release from the young independent Melbourne label Spoilsport Records, who have a good recent track record, including works by Eggy and Dragnet, and Jarrow would do well to remain in their company. On “Keep A Tab (On All My Friends),” Oke sings “Sinking down a cocktail of self-deprecation is wearing me out” and perhaps nothing better surmises the aesthetic of Jarrow than this: it’s irresistibly unserious, irreverent, fun, and certainly doesn’t sound like he’s too weary yet.