Jungle

Jungle 2014 ★★★

British soul for nocturnal driving through the city while you’re half asleep—running on the last surviving fumes of caffeine and sugar you consumed an hour ago. The muted disco grooves are hypnotic and polished enough that the album threatens to become monotonous, but it does just enough to never quite get lost in the fog. Like Daft Punk put on a sweater and decided they needed more soul credentials. They’re warmer, not so robotic. The vocals float around in high, silky layers. The singers aren’t individuals so much as a stylish organism. Their music video for “The Heat” shows British roller skating duo High Rollaz wearing green jumpsuits. The sound is slightly processed, but a lot of care went into the instrumentation. New tiny rhythmic details keep surfacing. The soul grooves are laid-back funk, or maybe trance-ish quiet storm. Music for people who own very expensive sneakers, at any rate. At one point, I think I’m hearing people clink silverware in sync at an expensive dinner party. The whole album feels very clean—not sterile exactly. Compelling while it’s on—I enjoyed it the whole way through. Not any truly gigantic standouts, though, so I probably won’t get pulled back for constant revisits.

For Ever 2018 ★★

More of the same, except for the stuff I liked. Their debut had a low-key retro bounce that kept bothering my foot until it gave in and started tapping. This one has a few songs that do that, notably “Heavy California,” but the focus shifts more toward gathering different sonic textures. They come across a few interesting flourishes here and there—the sampling in “Cosurmyne,” the dead-eyed groove of “Casio.” But this just doesn’t give me the same warm, nocturnal vibe as the first album. When they find a hook, they’re fine. Too much of the record just glides around playing with samples, as if that alone would be enough. Their vocal styling—the very processed, high-pitched vocals—keeps floating through the album with the same silky expression, and after a while starts to feel less like a style than room temperature. Still, this isn’t a total wash. There’s enough surreal atmosphere here to keep it from turning into pure background. Still, the debut had infectiousness. This one is more vapor.

Loving in Stereo 2021 ★★★½

Jungle still don’t exactly remodel the house, but this time they open the windows. Loving in Stereo has a denser, more orchestral flavor that helps mask the sameness that thinned out For Ever. It doesn’t totally escape their usual formula—muted post-disco grooves, silky processed vocals, tasteful little rhythmic details—but it sounds brighter, fuller, and more colorful. The nocturnal road trip from their debut has moved into dawn, with light on the dashboard and more stuff outside to look at. A lot of these songs fade in through lo-fi synth haze, then open into small explosions of sun. “Keep Moving” does retro disco about as well as anyone in this lane can—polished, muted, catchy, and fully prepared to bully your foot into motion. The grooves are still there to bob along to, but the vocals feel more varied this time, including the rap turn on “Romeo.” The whole thing is beautifully mixed and arranged, with little sound effects and instrumental details popping in and out to keep the decoration moving. “Truth” even nudges into a pop-rock vein, giving the album another shift in texture. This was their COVID lockdown album, and it plays like an antidote: bright, mobile, eager to get fresh air back into the room. It makes a very persuasive argument for the post-disco form.

Volcano 2023 ★★½

Jungle seem to know what they’re doing when they title these albums. Loving in Stereo felt summery. Volcano feels hot. Not warm. Hot. Jungle’s usual smooth polish is still here, but now it feels blurred and pressurized, as if the sound is being seen through heat shimmer. Their voices, once made out of cool moonlight, now sound like fire sprites hovering over the retro grooves. The basic Jungle principle still remains: muted grooves, repetition, atmosphere. Mood over destination. You get the impression you’re listening to the stuff behind the song rather than the song itself. Everything is impeccably polished, though not always forming something I want to sit with. “Back on 74” is the best argument for the approach—a subdued funk groove that sustains itself beautifully. “Palm Trees” works for a while too, opening with a terrific disco bass line. But then it seems to forget about it halfway through, letting it get engulfed in thick, twinkly whooshes. “Dominoes” is an example where the formula doesn’t quite catch for me: a loop that feels dull almost immediately and never really climbs out before it abruptly cuts off. There are good ideas strewn throughout this thing. I’m just not convinced I like standing inside this heat long enough to blister.