While I was in England last week, I had some really good cheese. It wasn’t special, expensive cheese with mustard seeds or beer in it, or even fresh-grated parmesan in a fancy restaurant. It cost 55p in Tesco (for the uninitiated, that’s the British 7-11), and it was a soft, sharp cheddar with the consistency of Velveeta. As I was eating it, I had an epiphany: This is what the new Jarvis Cocker album — Jarvis — sounds like.

That’s not to say Jarvis Cocker’s eponymous solo album is cheesy,
though it is in large part. It’s hard not to laugh at the epic chimes
of “Black Magic” or the absurd romp that is “Fat Children,” and
Cocker’s crooning in “Baby’s Coming Back To Me” or “Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time” could earn him jeers for sounding like a lounge singer. There’s also the Morrissey-esque “I Will Kill Again” and plodding “Disney Time” to complete the effect; it’s clear Jarvis is poking fun at anything within reach.

But it wasn’t just its potential for bad puns that led me to link the
cheese to Jarvis. This is a sharp, poignant album, but the production is smooth and creamy — needless to say, a hard balance to maintain. Consider the scathing bonus track, Internet hit “Running the World.” The jangly piano sounds like it was sampled straight from U2’s “Window In the Skies,” but the refrain, which I won’t repeat in mixed company without a few drinks in me, is a shot of defeatism in stark contrast to the uplifting chords.

Likewise “From Auschwitz To Ipswich” could fit in nicely at a backyard luau, at least until you bother to listen to the words. The music may be incongruous, but Cocker sounds dead serious about how messed up the world is. He seems to have discovered the most effective way to spread what would otherwise be considered hopelessly depressing, protest-esque lyrics: hide them in cheery pop songs.

Occasionally the lyrics match the accompaniment, as in the sweeping closer “Quantum Theory” or first single “Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time.” These snatches of straightforwardness are a surprising touch, particularly when Jarvis repeats, “Everything is gonna be all right,” just a few tracks after telling us we’re all evil and doomed. What? Beleaguered optimism? What a strange way to end an album like this. But you can’t help but believe him, just the same.

While I would have loved to bring some Tesco cheese home with me to drizzle over my American-style chips, I have no idea what kind of grief I would have gotten in Customs. Likewise, Jarvis is a treat that can’t currently be found in the States, and it’s our loss. This is a rich and multi-layered album light enough to snack on regularly, but simultaneously challenging if we listen close.