Geneva Jacuzzi

From Ze records’ roster of mutant-pop and No-Wave noise, Strawberry Switchblade’s intelli-pop nuclear war dread and even Bucks Fizz’s 1981 Margaret Thatcher-deriding ‘The Land of Make Believe’ the greatest pop music scales the peaks and scours the troughs, combining bathos with pathos, the obviously artificial presenting seemingly superficial intentions and pretentions, a visage of rehearsed rictus smiles obscuring palpable pent-up emotions. What lurks beneath is where the magic, mayhem and mystery manifests. If you’re prepared to dig.

On her third album (and first for Dais Records) ‘Triple Fire’ L.A. shaman-nequin Geneva Jacuzzi presents another potent cocktail of esoterica, exoterica and exotica that all adds up to an intoxicating experience. An apopalyptic discopia described by Jacuzzi as “the record that’s going to save mankind”. Dance away the art-fakes, dance away the fears.

At times coming across like peak Madonna (1985 – 1990 for this fan), Jacuzzi again adopts protective masks and defective costumes, inhabiting personas and nonchalantly exhibiting provocative perspectives augmented by pristine pop-poise.

Opener ‘Laps of Luxury’ details the findings of an expedition, ultravivid visions from the frontiers of perception, prophetic psalms forewarning of the portents of acquired knowledge. Take heed.

Authoritarian and totalitarian regimes have long attempted to censor, forbid or destroy artworks for their capacities to coerce and cauterise the sensibilities of the passive observer. An enlightened populace is a dangerous one. Especially when that mass is subjugated and drip-fed braindead-end product. However, on the electro-rock ‘n’ prole ‘Art is dangerous’ Jacuzzi outlines the inherent powers within, signposting how engagement can – and will - only lead to disengagement and emancipation from societal strictures. Trojan horses can take many forms.

Satire and the subverting of recognisable symbols is always the best – or only - way to circumvent all clampdowns upon the perceptible levels. The brilliant video features a cavalcade of peers and comrades who all exist to push buttons, test limits and break through boundaries (Ian Svenonius; Drab Majesty; Boy Harsher; Twin Shadow to name but four).

‘Speed of Light’ is co-produced by Drab Majesty’s Andrew Clinco (who also masquerades as Noel Skum from grit-glitters VR Sex) who brings his own subversive, subterranean sheen to proceedings.

The Weimar cabaret of ‘Rock and a hard place’ struts and strides across the stage, decadent and desirous.

‘Heart full of poison’ (co-produced with Roderick Edens and Andrew Briggs) is an echo from 1981, an aural time-capsule excavated for postmodern sensibilities.

Overall, this is superlative chart-friendly pop with serrated edges and soft burnishing. Exactly as it ought to be.