“I was wondering if you could play that song again, the one that goes, ‘Beep boop boop bop/boop boop beep’…”
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[5.25]
Scott Mildenhall: It’s the return of the return of the man with the hat, and it’s fitting that such a faintly ludicrous figure should mark it with a faintly ludicrous song. Not many British musicians seem so popularly maligned (and yet historically, so popular), and this won’t change it: it is all over the place. For a man who’s often shown an ear for a tune, the verses are disappointingly directionless; if more of the song were like the chorus section (if you can call it that), it would be in the ballpark of his best. Add in that Sugarhill-style rap, and it’s as if he’s so excited to return that he cannot concentrate.
[6]
Iain Mew: An overfamiliar melody doesn’t bode well for an inspired comeback, and almost loses me. Their new and surprisingly fresh-sounding commitment to clean synthetic lines (just) keeps me hanging on.
[6]
Micha Cavaseno: The odd world where Jamiroquai learn the lessons of their evil progeny Maroon 5, attempt go for Daft Punk, end up going further, bypassing Jamie Lidell’s Self-Titled and hitting Cybotron territory, but still manage to pop out of it sounding like themselves? It’s moments like this you forget for the novelty of the hat and how easily acid jazz became elevator music that Jamiroquai were a phenomenal group with an eclectic personality. It takes a lot for me to find a middle-aged white Brit doing a old-school rap breakdown charming, but there you go.
[8]
Alfred Soto: The thought that twentysomethings would consider exhumations of Curtis Mayfield and Stevie Wonder signifiers novel in 1996-1997 said much about the state of music, and not much has changed. Now Jamiroquai needs no exhumations — why would he when Daft Punk still bump into walls wearing their helmets? Don’t even mention Bruno Mars.
[4]
Cédric Le Merrer: Makes a compelling case for Jamiroquai as will.i.am predecessor.
[3]
Natasha Genet Avery: I’ve always preferred Jamiroquai’s smarmy funk homages to their shallow social critiques. “Automaton”, which was inspired by “the rise of artificial intelligence and technology,” feels particularly empty, the laser synths and Jay Kay’s outdated vocabulary (“digital android!” “cyber lounge!”) a poor substitute for an actual understanding of AI.
[4]
Ramzi Awn: Cut the track at three minutes and it would be a perfect anomaly. The rap breakdown is cringeworthy but Jamiroquai’s Supremes-era sensibility is impressive, and the bold synths don’t hurt.
[5]
Ryo Miyauchi: Though Jamiroquai ditches fluffy jazz chords for spiky synth bleeps, “Automaton” still hinges upon a sense of nostalgia. He navigates electronics like the funk heads of the past just discovering Kraftwerk; he channels the man machine for the title like them too. The result is a rather outdated view of a robot-filled future, but the innocence of his imagination makes this worth its time.
[6]