Will Schube is too weird to die
Rob Jacob’s biography recalls that of a student who “found himself” while traveling throughout India. There’s something inherently mockable about the story Jacobs is pushing across. But doing so, especially in the face of such powerfully optimistic music, is reducing Jacobs to a stereotype he transcends. His music is weird. This is evident throughout all of his self-titled record, but “Walking Outside And It’s Dark” feels particularly odd. It’s electronic blips and Indian-inspired vocals are occasionally interrupted by floating guitar chords and a distant woodblock. The bass line is nothing more than a two note accent (with occasional flourishes), but its simplicity, especially in conjunction with cymbal flourishes that somehow don’t recall the darker side of the texture (Rush! You dicks ruined it for everyone.), make for an engaging listen.
It’s particularly hard to pin down Jacobs’ sound, mostly because not too many folks are approaching his territory: the marriage of experimental meanderings with a firm foot on the ground–always one or two toes digging deep into the dirt. He never lets his music get ahead of itself in its various wanderings and experimentations. There’s always an eye on a goal, an aim. Jacobs’ record is certainly an odd duck, but tracks like “Walking Outside” perfectly encapsulate the oddities as more than ideas that are weird for the sake of being weird. There’s an underlying playfulness to the whole thing, which lends a feeling of accessibility. Jacobs refuses to take himself too seriously, despite what his biography may suggest.
