Shayfer James has a history of being known for darker, vaudeville-type arrangements. So color me surprised when the first proper track on his latest record features programmed drums and the je-ne-sais-quoi of Justin Timberlake. Even the video for “Devils & Rebels” is draped in neon paint. There’s still the core of James’ trademark sound, most assuredly, but there’s a fair bit more of the modern era as well. I’m not sure what prompted the change-up here, and in some ways it’s similar to when Taylor Swift dropped Reputation (quite possibly the only time I’ll reference Tay in a review). James abandons some of the macabre for a bit of steampunk take on 90s and early 00s pop, and it frankly just works. But just as easily, he calls to mind more amorphous artists like Nova Amor. It’s a big switch, but I’m certainly not complaining one bit.
Rest assured, the album is still interspersed with narrative tricks that help cement the cinematic tradition James is known for. Misery is introduced as a main player early on (as a nod to “Have a Seat Misery” from Counterfeit Arcade), and the segue tracks have AM-radio narration. And there’s plenty of variety between tracks, ranging from fast-paced club hits like “Devils & Rebels” to the vocal-layered balladry of “Must We”. “Ferryman” brings an almost-humorous look at betrayal to close out the record.
There’s still a certain spookiness to behold: “First Date” is a prime example, with references to kissing in cemeteries and befriending otherworldly spirits. Still, the new approach to production is more bombastic and immersive, and even songs about pain and darkness feel so beefy and verdant. Bass is punchy. Percussion is snappy. I’m not normally a fan of over-programmed songs, and thankfully I would never dare to describe these arrangements as over-programmed. “Learning to Be Lost” is perhaps the prime example of the full spectrum of James’ sound, where strings, auxiliary percussion, and fat bass all weave together for a beautiful, haunting effect. Then there’s “Built to Burn” which feels like it could have been on the Hamilton soundtrack with its clapping and vocal rhythms. Add in a Will Wood guest appearance on the final track (with a sort of “Sexy and I Know It” vibe) and you’ve got quite an interesting combination of weirdness.
Interestingly, even with the more commercial pop approach, I found myself enjoying almost every track on first listen. Each track certainly has its own personality, but the album never feels like a pastiche of two or three disparate extremes. “Ferryman” is an outlier – the instant LMAO comparison definitely threw me off a bit, but Will Wood’s backing vocals and lyrics about how selfishness tends to trump friendships and relationships definitely help redeem things. But even excluding this, Shipwreck is likely the most consistent album I’ve found this year (something I was definitely not expecting, even as a fan of James’ previous work). If you’re interested in an album that finds the common ground between the past and present, you will not be disappointed.
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