A clever bit of observational witticism holds that teenagers love sad songs so much because they’ve never experienced true grief or pain- they ‘try on’ such emotions in the same way they try out personas before deciding who they are. As a thirteen-year-old who used to mope around to ‘Ex Factor’ for hours despite having exactly no experience in matters of the heart, this is something that always struck a chord with me, and something that came strongly to my mind when I listened to thirteen-year-old singer JoJo’s self titled debut. For ‘JoJo’ is a manifestation of the same phenomenon- except, this time, rather than a never-been-kissed girl sitting up in her room crying to break-up ballads, that girl is making the ballads. Whilst it’s inevitable that many will snort at the intrinsic ludicrousness of someone so young singing ‘inappropriately’ mature material, it honestly doesn’t bother me in principle. But why ‘JoJo’ so fails is because she never truly convinces you that she’s feeling what she’s singing, that her bawls and wails are ever anything more than a slick performance, as opposed to genuine articulation. There’s something empty and plastic about both her voice and the album. Her vocal delivery is the aural equivalent of the Vegas strip- it’s outwardly impressive façade is just that- a façade, masking a hollow, soulless interior. It’s not that JoJo isn’t convincing as an older girl or even as a singer- it’s that she’s not convincing as a human-being.
Let me elaborate. It’s not that I think singers should only sing about things deeply personal to them, or even things they can relate to. All I ask is that they make you feel what they’re singing. JoJo, for all her desperately trained, desperately superfluous adlibs, just doesn’t that have that power or ability. Take ‘Weak’- a cover of the SWV hit that should be better than the original. It’s far more vocal-orientated, and once clunky, overly-synthed early-1990s production has been stripped down to sparse handclaps and a tasteful arrangement that approximates acoustics. The thing is, her voice is technically flawless, but there’s absolutely nothing behind it or about it. SWV’s version might sound dated and imperfect but there is a raw, animal passion that has the sheer clout of a gut punch. JoJo’s version, by contrast, is so immaculate, so professional, so perfect, that it loses any sense of personality.
This lack of personality is also true of her voice, which is nigh on impossible to describe- apart from a ‘ghettoised’ lisp and a somehow unlikeable sharpness to it’s tone, it’s totally devoid of character, subtlety or warmth. Look at the aphrodisiacal velvet and gospel sass of Joss Stone (16), the Michael Jackson wryness of Rhianna (15), the scat audacity and thick charisma of Amy Winehouse (19). All are, or were, precociously young soul singers like JoJo when they recorded their albums, and all blow her out of the water despite possessing voices nowhere near as technically proficient.
'Yes Or No' is a good illustration of this. On this run-of-the-mill, watered-down dance song, JoJo attempts ‘shu-be-doo-da’ ad-libbed scats. Whilst her control over them is impressive, its painfully clear that their sole purpose is to impress the listener with her expertise. This is in direct contrast with Winehouse’s scats on ‘In My Bed’- she is occasionally dreadfully off-key, yet still leaves you exhilarated because it feels like celebration- self-indulgent, vain celebration of a powerhouse voice, expressed solely because it can be and isn’t that great? JoJo’s voice is thus the ultimate proof that, sometimes, having the basic kit and talent just isn’t enough- she may have the pipes of, if not a great, than a very-good. But, crucially, she just doesn’t have the soul or even the transcendent ability to pretend at soul (see Joss) to make her music compelling. Even on ‘Weak’, the best song on the album, there’s an almost creepy emptiness to what you’re listening to.
I don’t even think it’s her age. Aaliyah’s first album was recorded when she was fourteen, but ‘At Your Best’ was mesmerising sensual, the fruits of a voice soaked in an evasive charisma that JoJo simply doesn’t have. So ‘perfect’ sounding is her voice, it only has a distancing effect. Aaliyah was sex and smoke, Beyonce (and most of the other notable RnB chicks) is passion and panache, Joss is smooth and sly, Brandy (!) is, at least, rasp and sass. Even someone like Jamelia –who isn’t even a third as vocally gifted as this young lady- has personality to her voice, something that tells you about who she is as a person and a performer. JoJo is just there, singing her heart out, desperately inhuman. She doesn’t put a foot wrong in terms of key, pace, or delivery, but she doesn’t invest anything other than such learned skill into the words, either.
Boosting my gut feeling that such emptiness isn’t about her age is her eerily adult demeanour. This is someone barely out of their pre-teens who proudly declared in an interview, “I’ve gotten this far while still keeping my clothes on,” as if an achievement rather than a given. Watch ‘Leave (Get Out)’’s video and you see an expertly posturing woman almost freakishly glinting within the body of a child, like Kirsten Dunst’s character in ‘Interview with the Vampire’. There’s a dead look in her eye that screams ‘all ambition, no depth’ and the sort of stage school polish that deadens all idiosyncrasy. Indeed, she strikes me as the Hayley Joel Osment of the singing world- her ability is amazing, but there’s something deeply creepy about it, as if a God with a sick sense of humour has taken the voice of a woman and implanted it in a girl, without also taking the emotional context of that voice with it. It’s not even that she’s sexualised or sexual- in fact, what makes the whole enterprise so jarring is that she’s the opposite- there is no sexuality to the girl at all. This is expected…normal…right even- she is, after all, a thirteen-year-old. But watching this totally asexual creature prance around wiggling her neck telling a flagrantly non-existent guy to leave is genuinely quite unnerving. It really isn’t an issue of age so much as an issue of specific emotional depth- whether she is deriding a boyfriend, confessing passion or calling out to the streets, there is just no sincerity there at all- it just sounds like something more to sing. The most telling part of her debut video is a gesture she repeatedly pulls when hitting the high notes- a balled-fist juts in front of her face like Madonna in ‘Evita’, a theatrical tick that carries strongly into her voice.
And what of the song? Well, ‘Leave (Get Out)’ starts of promisingly enough, with it’s breezily melancholic Spanish guitar blending smoothly with JoJo’s crisp vocal. However, the chorus is a total flop- it’s monosyllabism doesn’t gel at all with the surging, busy production, and the raucous ‘LEAVE!’ shouts in the background feel crow-barred in. Whilst one can assume their designated purpose is to convey rage, they’re barely audible and hopelessly wet. Also, the song, despite her booming voice, is oh so out of her league. It would benefit massively from some world-weariness and palpably worn experience- instead, JoJo’s too-strident pipes borrow no sense of refinement or intricacy, and trivialise the subject matter. When she cries, ‘Because my heart is breaking, with every word I’m saying,” it should be the emotional crux of the song- instead it just becomes another excuse to ostentate her voice. On a lesser note, the song’s content is tired- the clichéd lyrics about a no-good man are so 1999 it hurts. The one good thing about the song is, rather than do the obvious and make it blaring and brash all the way through, a more thoughtful, reflective quality is woven through the verses that I’ll admit is a sophisticated and superior touch. However, despite the extremely well-pitched, well-made video, the song just doesn’t work.
"Leave" aside, there are surprisingly few mid- to-up-tempo songs on ‘JoJo.’ ‘Breezy’ is easily the best, being as it is extremely catchy and blessed with sunny –if extremely bubblegum- production. However, the lyrics are unbelievably lame (‘I get shoppin’ sprees off da heezy, I get towed up low please believe me’), and it’s crammed with forced slang. It’s also extremely oddly pitched- it’s so immature that it could only be sung by a young teenager, but the references to driving cars and f!ck buddies are just unnecessary and sound pretentious in the true sense of the word. Not only that, but JoJo, as usual, totally oversings the song, boasting her voice rather than interpreting the words, and reminding me of everything Christina Aguilera as a vocalist can be at her worst. Also, JoJo comes across as a total snot on it- the bitter aftertaste in her voice really comes out here and you just want to slap her. Despite all this, I can’t deny the guilty pleasure of ‘Breezy’- of all the tracks on ‘JoJo’, it’s the only one I actually wanted to listen to more than once.
Conversely, 'City Lights' is worthwhile only because of some woozy production touches, and it’s blatant desire to be a dancefloor filler is dampened by the fact that it’s about as rousing as an indoor firework. Worse, at nearly five minutes long it far, far outstays it’s welcome. 'Yes Or No' has a nice skat/beatbox breakdown but otherwise just sounds like a really cheap, energy-deficient version of Brandy’s ‘What About Us’ or Aguilera’s ‘Can’t Hold Us Down’ (which ‘Breezy’ also resembles).
‘Baby It’s You’ also reminds me of another rhythm-pop star's material- only this time, one of Jennifer Lopez’s sappy Bennifer songs. Unfortunately, whilst it’s cantering beat and Bollywood abstractions are compelling, it goes absolutely nowhere with it’s sweetly sung chorus. In fact, it’s so one-note, it feels almost like an interlude despite being over three minutes long. ‘Not That Kinda Girl’ is just incredibly boring and cookie cutter- indeed, the piping little beat sounds like it could be the theme tune to an edutaiment show for toddlers. However, no-one seems to have informed JoJo of this- she sounds like she’s just been informed of the death of her only child despite the fact that she’s actually singing lines like, “Everytime I be up at the spot, chilling with my crew, we'll be hanging out, get in a little late; You start bugging out.” Like so much of the record, her entire performance feels geared towards making you think, ‘Damn, this girl can sing,’ not, ‘Damn, I feel what she’s saying.’ For all the (lack of) emotional engagement she displays, she might as well be bawling the telephone book.
'The Happy Song' is so shiny and cookie-cutter and boring you’ll want to trash your speakers, scratch your face, snap the CD; anything to get rid of the satiated little sh!t nagging ‘Ba da da da da. ba da da da. Ba da da da da. You make me happy’ over, and over, and over again. The backing track is so nondescript it would surely be considered too bland even for elevators. The song would be less bad if there was even the slightest sense of actual elation in the music or voice- instead, it comes across as the sort of vague contentment that plagues ambient jazz wrongness. I can honestly say, without hyperbole, that it’s one of the most shockingly insipid, directionless, uninteresting pieces of muzak I’ve ever heard in my life. 'Sunshine' and 'Keep On Keeping On' continue on this tip; there’s absolutely nothing to say about them- they’re wallpaper for the ears, and listening to them feels like watching paint remain wet.
'Homeboy' is less of a crashing bore, but the shrill, plinks of piano trickling through the song are niggling and obnoxious. The lyrics have clearly been written with JoJo’s age in mind but -and this is the Catch 22 situation with this girl- her voice sounds way too mature to pull off this kind of stuff. There’s not a lick of innocence about it. Lyrics like “Shorty’s a little taller now, into big things, he’s a baller now” just sound wrong coming from that voice. This is a shame because, despite their insipidness, such lyrics are still ripe for a singer to fill with hurt, confusion, innocence, loss...JoJo just trills away, oblivious to the small matters of nuance and vocal intelligence.
This problem is most aggravated (and aggravating) on ‘Use My Shoulder’ and, most teeth-grindingly, ‘Fairy Tales’. On these again musically tedious songs, her focus on over-enunciation and ‘impressive’ inflection is so overbearing that any meaning becomes lost in a sea of arias. Indeed, her singing is so needlessly frilly on the chorus of ‘Shoulder’ that emotion seems to be an abstract concept, overshadowed by the might of mechanical technique. ‘If things don’t go yoh-ah way, ah-use my sholla to ah-cry, ah-awn’ she bleats, not even trying to translate or express what the lyrics actually mean. On 'Fairy Tales', meanwhile, she seems far more occupied with her ‘da-dee-dee’s and ‘uh-ooh-uh’s than even bothering to actually sit down and think about what she’s supposed to be conveying. Indeed, the sole reason to appreciate staid Walmart soundtrack ‘Never Say Goodbye’ is that, for once, she actually sounds like she means what her vocal chords are being sprayed at.
JoJo the singer, then, falls firmly into the try-too-hard category. ‘JoJo’ the album, however, doesn’t even try at all. Perhaps even worse than any vocal failings is the consistent lack of any ambition or adventure yawned throughout this music. It never flirts with danger or risk, either lyrically or musically, and its safe, tried-and-tested commitment to watered-down RnB is disappointing and inadequate when compared to, say, the Sugababe’s records, or Christina Aguilera’s ‘Stripped’, which flit around genres like a nymphomaniac on a dance floor. Even stuff with more modest goals, like Girls Aloud’s ‘Sound Of The Underground’ or the Spice Girls’ first two LPs, have an infectious, raucous energy about them that makes up for a myriad of sins. Compare this to ‘JoJo’’s predictable, generic muzak and you realise how bloody monotonous the entire exercise really is. ‘JoJo’’s crime, then, isn’t that it fails as art, but that it fails as entertainment. After all, we all know that manufactured pop-records are ultimately just products to be sold. What really annoys about ‘JoJo’ is that it doesn’t even try to justify or even hide it’s cynical intent- it’s bland, cookie-cutter lyrics and shockingly unmemorable rhythm-pop generics are so by-the-numbers I’m surprised anyone could even be bothered turning up to record it.
Honestly, though, I’m probably a bit too hard on JoJo. Perhaps I wouldn’t hold singers I knew to be older to such scrutiny, and if I thought she was nineteen or twenty-three, I might well be more receptive. But even ignoring her age, this album feels so corporate, so slickly calculated, so BORING, that it’s impossible to enjoy. Part of this is JoJo's Catch 22 sitch- Aaliyah’s ‘Age Ain’t Nothing But A Number’, for example, wisely focused on upbeat, silly party songs with age-appropriate lyrics. It sold Aaliyah’s voice in ‘just wait to see what she’ll do when she’s grown’ kind of way, the musical equivalent of, ‘they’ll be a looker when they’re older'. When JoJo's go for the same tack, however, it feels wrong and fake because of that total lack of innocence or inexperience implicit in JoJo's voice. Equally, however, she doesn't have the depth to pull off more mature songs- thus her demanding an apparently long-term, live-in boyfriend to ‘get out’, hissingly informing another girl she’s just a ‘jump off’, and singing about clubbing all night long, feels just as unsuitable.
It's not just this profound lack of ability in making material convincing that makes "JoJo" and JoJo such a bad listen. Another failing is that JoJo can never let the songs be in the spotlight- she has to be the focus and thus indiscriminately invests passion into everything she sings. Kaci, Duff, S Club Juniors and the rest of the ghoulsome tween stars sing ‘love’ songs in a disengaged manner, accepting their fate as mere outlets for catchy pop tunes, which are always the stars. But JoJo has that whole slushy American ‘singing with conviction’ vibe- this is a great quality in a soul singer when there’s something behind it or when it suits the songs in question, but in this case neither is applicable. Thank the Lord, then, that she wasn't actually given any good songs- this could really have ruined some great pop material. As it stands, it just makes cack worse.
Whilst some might explain away such mistakes as youthful folly, JoJo's young age is no real excuse for this album’s failings. The Sugababes made their album ‘One Touch’ when they were fifteen, and that album is a prime example of how the young ages of the performers in question can be integrally incorporated into the album’s themes and lyrics, without dumbing down or patronisation (it was one of the most critically acclaimed albums of it’s year). Soul singer Rhianna was just fifteen when her 2002 debut ‘Get On’ dropped, but her declarations of love, lust and bitterness never felt anything other than intoxicatingly genuine. Amy Winehouse wrote all of the material on ‘Frank’ in her mid to late teens, but her album is deeply personal, entrenched in experience, and thus a fascinating listen that shows youth is no real excuse for inarticulacy or even emotional immaturity. Joss Stone, perhaps a fairer comparison, is a winner because of that previously mentioned transcendent quality of voice- even if she doesn’t really feel what she’s singing about, she can sure as Hell make you do so. These might be taken as unfair comparisons- after all, Winehouse, Stone et al are seen as ‘artists’, whilst JoJo is generally considered nothing more than a ‘pop star’. However, JoJo’s delivery is clearly the product of a desire to be accepted on the level of a ‘soul’ or RnB singer, and the album’s pushing of such a direction does warrant such evaluation.
At this point, I don't think it would be too much of a shock for me to reveal that I hated this album. However, I’m not quite ready to dismiss JoJo. Her voice is technically brilliant, and if she actually picks up some discernible personality (let’s hope so- English popette Rachel Stevens is 26-and-counting and Britain is still waiting) other than snake-necked disdain, she could well make a great little poppy soul record. Unfortunately, the pessimist in me can only see a keenly-eyed, all-too-honed stage school belter who is all about the craft of singing without having a clue what’s behind it. She has a great tool but has nothing to use it with- she affects affects affects, and it’s so obvious it’s horrible. The nail in the coffin, however, are the songs themselves. Not only do they sound cheap as chips, but for the most part they are lacklustre, unexciting nothings. Whilst ‘JoJo’ might not be the worst album of 2004, it is most certainly the most dull, filler-packed and vacant. To sum up? Toe-curlingly drab.
Track Listing (and Rating)
Breezy- 2.5/5
Baby It’s You- 2.5/5
Not That Kinda Girl- 1.5/5
The Happy Song- 1/5
Homeboy- 1/5
City Lights- 1/5
Leave (Get Out)- 2.5/5
Use My Shoulder- 1/5
Never Say Goodbye- 1/5
Weak- 3/5
Keep On Keepin’ On- 1/5
Sunshine- 1/5
Yes Or No- 1.5/5
Fairy Tales- 1/5
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