EP Review: Blueprint

In their press Tamaki Makaurau trio Napoleon Baby, Daniel Jones, Jamie Leaver and Jesse Gush, boldly claim that their “sharp, unique musical perspective” will brew up a “potent mix of anthems that tackle life’s injustices, annoyances, and daily struggles head-on”. They take on the big modern ills, like idol worship, social media quacks, egomaniacs, toxic masculinity, self-delusion.

Inspired by snarling Brit rockers bands like The Jam, Oasis, and Arctic Monkeys, who turned everyday struggles into song material, and rebel alt pop-sters like Violent Femmes, Pixies, and The Stooges, Napoleon Baby’s songs focus on topics of disenchantment and defiance.

And it’s with that nu-punk attitude that they wear their messages loud and proud in their music and on their merch. My favourite, on their Bandcamp you can buy a t-shirt that states ‘F*ck Your Beach House’. That pretty much sums up their Kaupapa.

When I put on the first tune, the EP’s title track, I was immediately reminded of the Black Keys and The White Stripes. Raw, alone. A simple, deconstructed wall of twang, unfettered by studio wizardry. A single note riff and accompanying bass with imitating vocal’s listing all the lost and lacking moments, like a shopping list of disappointments and un-realisations: “25 years I want 25 more / 25 reasons not to walk in the door / I want something I want, not something I need / Education or a moment with god… What do I like, Baby, I don’t know / Where do I live, maybe a house on the coast?” The perfect detox, following no plan or ideology ambition, or dream. Yet the goal is to get everything you want b shedding everything you don’t need. A perfect blueprint for living. Get it?

Part of the inspiration for the song was also the blissful state of mediocrity. Jones says he kept meeting people who weren’t striving to be the best at every moment, and he became envious of that feeling, that missing out or disengaging was OK.

It’s a nice idea, that old mantra – unplug yourself, hide the phone, turn off the TV, stay away from the radio. Those of us that have just come back from beach and batch holidays are yearning for more of that right now, aren’t we?

Their first EP Unworthy Boys dropped last year, melding no-wave and new wave thematics from bands like Television and The Strokes, scatterings of jazz snatched from Nina Simone, and buffered, angular moments reminiscent of Queens of the Stone Age (especially on the blistering track Outlaws).

Confusingly, the actual song Unworthy Boys appears on this new EP – Blueprint – not the previous one.

Starting slow with a 50’s rock’n’roll swagger, the Unworthy Boys challenges modern small screen ‘stars’ and influencers who, despite providing very little real substance or holding genuine credentials, make overwhelming demands on our attention.

The lyrics examine the narratives crated by these ‘fake’ people, influencers and internet charlatans. Their dialogues, ways of speaking, the mesmerising word-salad magic webs they spin.

“I know all the words, they are big and dynamic / they poke holes in the right kind of media phonetics / made me feel I was wrong / But I know enough about social experiments / Prove me right, prove me wrong” 

Winding up in angst Jones spits it out “I don’t want to see you dancing!” The song literally cuts through the wall of noise that social medial creates these days – those false tans, posh un-affordable houses, glamorous holidays and endless streams of products we don’t need but must have to fulfil us.

Given the current political environment, I think this song goes deeper and asks why young men insist on placing their trust in unworthy demi-gods like Trump and Rogan or sports idols with dubious morals, self-proclaimed gurus, TV reality stars, or any other false ‘icons’ – “misplaced adulation in a society that often values entertainment over expertise.”

With a plethora of reality, home building and competition cooking shows, we are bombarded with false expertise. How often we value entertainment over real skills and advice.

It’s also refreshing to see a deliberate targeting, with the focus on young men, often left by the curb side in these debates. The song strikes for an identity that is real, not defined by social media ‘likes’ and digital validations.

Slyly, Sailors opens tenderly. Or does it? “Baby has convinced herself he loves her for her brilliant mind / Gives that look to no one else / then tells her to go F*ck herself!” 

The song is dripping in satire, stripping down those ‘self-centred egomaniacs’ we all seem to know. Those who think they are bigger than they really are. Think of high school kings and queens that belittled us once and now work at the McDonalds or the local gas station.

The band questions the authenticity people when they make claims about themselves. Jones, the band’s chief songwriter, says the song is “a homage and an awakening for those of us who only want to remain in the red, who want to always be in the fight…basically hipster arseholes who never leave their small town”. I couldn’t sum it up any better.

Musically, the song is held together by a chugging, thumping percussion and grungy guitars, in keeping with a classic 90’s Brit Pop aesthetic. I thought of bands like Pluto, who often trade in a similar sound.

The EP closes with an acoustic version of Blur’s classic Beetlebum. It’s a nice enough rendition. Although it sits nicely alongside the other songs it doesn’t really do anything more than provide a bit of a reference point for the musical inspirations of those other three. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just a good cover, and that’s plenty good.

I read somewhere that Jones won’t listen to vacuous music, songs with empty meaning or pointless lyrics. I’d agree. I, too, want music with a message, unafraid to challenge the uncomfortable truths of modern culture. I want my music to hold up a mirror to our toxic society and write obscene phrases of defiance in the breath fog. Forcing your nose up close to the glass, you can rely on Napoleon Baby for more than hot air huffs to blow your house down.