Joyeria: 'FIM' EP — Yuck Magazine

Oct 14

Oct 14 Joyeria: 'FIM' EP

Today sees the release of Joyeria’s debut EP, ‘FIM’, released on Speedy Wunderground. You’ve likely not heard of Joyeria, but he’s been lurking in the bowels of London’s music scene the last few decades, at times flirting with the mainstream before ghosting it, deciding an on-off relationship with small venues and bars was a more fitting lifestyle. He is at once a chess player, maths genius, father, Canadian, and painter. A true Renaissance man. Songwriting is another string to his bow.

The songs on the EP are not about maths or chess or fatherhood, as far as I can make out. They’re not even about Canada. ‘Performance Review’ has a line about painting, but there’s no deep dive into the topic, really. Overwhelmingly, the songs on this EP are about depression and society. At times the EP seems to pay homage to songwriting as an art form. Many of the songs' lyrical content nods to the humorous though introspective lyrics of Morrissey or Jarvis Cocker. More often though, their tone might be better defined as Jonathan Richman-meets-Ian Curtis.

As EPs go, the tone of ‘FIM’ moves freely through registers. It’s quite listenable, provoking both laugh-out-loud moments and concern for the writer. ‘Death’ is one of the most enjoyable songs on the record, encapsulating the EP’s defining dark humour. The refrain, “My Face has changed / not in a good way!”, jar against the hilarious line: “In the final words of The King / I’m off to the bathroom to read.”

Underlying all this is the discordant blowing of reed instruments to flavour the familiar post-punk guitar riffs. Colouring this song is a Rick and Morty-style mock advertisement about credit card debt, framing the song as a derivative of Father John Misty’s ‘Pure Comedy’. That the song is sung in a sort of Western-drawl, like (and I’m about to make a reference so old here that you’re going to have to ask your parents to ask their parents) Lee Marvin in Paint Your Wagon adds to the complexity of this ambitious and colourful track.

‘Decisions’ and ‘Performance Review’ err on the EP’s more depressing side. Beginning ‘Decisions’ is a kind of Darren Aronofsky-inspired riff on plastic surgery, and links to the piece in ‘Death’ referring to credit card debt. ‘9 to 5’ is a little more exciting, though still sung with the same mournful tone Joyeria assumes throughout. The wry observations like, “My headaches coincide with my screentime”, will appeal to anyone feeling overwhelmed by modern living, and wishing to wallow in the burnout.

‘Colour Film’ is the most exciting track on the album, sung with a sort of Kurt Vile-esque drawl. This is the kind of indie-rock which will appeal to the fans of the late 90’s independent bands by whom Joyeria is inspired. It’s almost like this song has reached us from a time capsule buried deep in the ground, before Blur released ‘Thinktank’, to be dug up by a race of genderless lizard warriors to whom the sound of men with guitars telling you what they think is a thing of the distant, distant past.

I like these songs: they fit snugly into a brand of indie-rock currently being resurrected by bands such as The Bug Club, Courting, and ‘The Big Moon’. It’ll likely find a faithful audience in devotees of the genre.