V

Though scattershot emotional mayhem, this album is a resounding triumph.

It’s all bolder, fuller, and, well, better.

V is a solid, dream-inducing, quietly dramatic step forward for JJ.

JJ's sound may be nothing special anymore, but their songs and vibe still stand up.

V is almost cinematic, conjuring up rich, kaleidoscopic vistas as the band transforms from stoned-out beach bums to wide-eyed globetrotters.

So 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--i’s a shame that it doesn’t always work in jj’s favour.

The duo's intoxicating sense of endless sonic possibility remains, but the many lovely moments rarely amount to memorable songs, and several shout-outs to its still-enchanting debut fells like cruel teases. [No. 112, p.57]

Despite V’s evidence of growth and energy throughout the first half of the album, excitement drains during the latter half. Kastlander’s vocals are still emotionally pinpricking on each song, consistently dwelling on the subject matter of relationship/post-relationship difficulties on tracks like Full and Be Here Now. Eventually though, just like hearing a friend complain about their ex for three months straight after the split, it gets tiresome.

The whole album is tinged just as much by melancholy as it is by hopeful optimism.

The result is not just unimaginative and lyrically anodyne--it’s boring.