LAPTOP
@ Water Rats
27/10/03
Sardonic, sarcastic, bitchy, bitter,
cool, caustic. These are all words you will find being bandied around
when Laptop comes to town. There is however, one vital word lacking
in most critiques of this electro-pop ensemble: fun. “I'm more well-adjusted
and good-willed than most people who listen to my music think” defends
Jesse Hartman, lead singer and mainstay of the band. “We all have
a few dark feelings now and then. I just like to write about them
'cause most people don't and they can be quite funny. I’m not really
that bitter…I like to tease people. Especially when they're being
silly”.
After
various line-up changes, Hartman now surrounds himself with five
spruced up dominatrices. Yes, it’s the dream of every red-blooded
male in the world to live like this, but Hartman lives that dream.
Lucky guy. “One night, my wife and I were feeling bad that I might
have to tour and we'd be apart”, explains Hartman, “and I thought,
hmm, she plays keys, why not do the Robert Palmer thing and have
an all girl band?”. There are two notable differences, however,
between this purveyor of the savviest New York electro and Robert
Palmer. First of all, Hartman actually looks good in a suit. Secondly,
his band actually play their instruments, as opposed to just rocking
backwards and forwards and looking bored. These girls don’t just
stand there looking pretty; everyone on stage is part of a dynamic
live act, and unless you knew them personally, it would be hard
to pick out just which of the five girls is Hartman’s wife, bearing
in mind he looks like he’s flirting with just about everyone in
the room.
The danger is that it’s easy for an audience to perceive a line
up like this as boyish fantasy, and maybe it is, but it’s really
just part of the Laptop joke. You can take Laptop seriously, but
not that seriously. Imagine walking in off the street one night
and seeing a guy looking like John Travolta flanked by five strumpets.
You could be forgiven for thinking you had just walked into a burlesque
house.
Give yourself a few minutes though and you’ll see that Laptop are
more than well dressed, they’re a well-oiled
electro-pop machine, and watching the band play, you get a strong
sense of a spirit amongst the group as a whole. The electro-typical
picture of sharp suits, make-up and emotionless deadpan goes out
the window. Well, Laptop have got the suits, the make-up, and even
the deadpan, but they could never be accused of being devoid of
emotion. Emotional deadpan? I bet you never thought it was possible,
but its there, right in front of your eyes. Perhaps you could accuse
the band of not following through with the savvy NY image. Surely
the band shouldn’t be enjoying themselves so much? Shouldn’t they
be acting aloof and striking poses? Like in the Robert Palmer video?
But who made up the rules anyway? “Would it kill you to say how
you feel?”, as Hartman sings achingly on ‘Let Yourself Go’. The
point is that you can tackle serious subjects without being too
serious about it. Hartman’s relationship with the band and his audience
reflects the way that he is able to laugh at his own propensity
to take things too seriously. The suits, the make-up, the girls,
the smirks; it all fits into the idea that you can be light-hearted
about something without making it frivolous.
The trouble is a lot of people equate revealing their emotions with
being sad, and it’s fair to say that the vast majority of songwriters
use their bad experiences to create nothing but sad music. The list
of offenders is endless, but there are a select few who, rather
than stroll down the path to self-loathing, would prefer to beat
a new path to festive pastures. Hartman is one such path-beater.
His songs are largely based on the age-old subjects of break-ups
and make-ups but thrown in to the mix are a few spicier ingredients
such as malice, sarcasm and acrimony. “I’d have lost my mind at
the time if I was without you / But that is over now: you’re Yesterday’s
Muse”, declares Hartman on ‘Yesterday’s Muse’. But it’s all done
with good intentions, there’s no bad vibes in the place. “I want
to mock myself for feeling bad about stupid things. I want other
people to feel better about their problems by laughing at mine.
Lou Reed did this well. So did Jonathan Richman. And don't forget
Woody Allen”.
So
is Jesse Hartman the next Woody Allen? A spokesperson for the average
NY Joe? “No, I feel like an outsider, totally not part of any NYC
scene. But I used to think the UK got my music more than people
in the US. I'm not so sure these days. Maybe the USA folk are finally
catching up, getting the jokes, getting more ironic. Having a monkey
like George Bush as president will do that to people”.
Politics aside, tonight at the Water Rats, Laptop are again having
fun. You have to give respect to a guy who’s singing about getting
the boot, yet doing it with style. Songs about heartbreak, but sung
with joyful defiance. Service with a smile. There’s a tonne of influences
in there. Laptop is certainly nothing if not a nod to a hundred
different pages of popular music history. There’s Bowie, Kraftwerk,
Duran Duran, Beatles, Stones, Talking Heads, Beck, Devo and much
more. If we’ve heard it all before, how can a band like Laptop fare
in the 21st century? “For better or worse, I think the 21st century
is all about pastiche and quoting the past. We all know there's
nothing new to really say, so Laptop, with its Goddardian approach
to music fits right in”.
The night reached its crescendo with the charming ‘I’m So Happy
You Failed’ (allegedly aimed at the Strokes, but with hindsight
the less said about that the better), the anthem designed for everyone
who’s ever felt the bite of joyful bitterness in their lives. Its
pretty obvious at this point that this is a song that no-one will
forget soon, and is destined to remain a live favourite for years
to come. And similarly Laptop should be a band that no-one will
forget soon. “I hope the band heads into the stratosphere of fame
and fortune, but that ain't reality, is it? In the meantime, you
got any suggestions? I sort of know how to bartend”.
by Matthew Grundy
|