The Canadian shoegazers of No Joy are releasing their long-awaited fifth album, Bugland. It is now the solo project of Jasamine White-Gluz, their first new material in five years, and also their debut for Sonic Cathedral. On Bugland, Jasamine White-Gluz collaborates with producer Fire-Toolz (aka Angel Marcloid) to create the auditory equivalent of the front and back cover of a late ’80s i-D magazine, paired with a trouble-free National Geographic. At least in part, it was inspired by White-Gluz’s move to a more rural part of Quebec, something that also explains the gap between albums.
“The wait wasn’t intentional,” she explains, “but I think living in the countryside encouraged me to tune out the hustle of the music industry and focus more on myself—writing and taking my time.” The collaboration with Fire-Toolz proved inspiring. The renowned future-fusionist not only adds magical co-production, but also other sonic touches/dances/sounds/mysticism. “The collaboration felt truly boundless,” she says enthusiastically. “It was easy for me to connect with, because Jasamine and I liked a lot of the same music, and I could be creative in ways that felt liberating—like I was making my own album.”
The two spent days driving along empty country roads, listening to the mixes, and you can hear that in the final product. With an open ear, the listener can detect many “influence eggs.” Garbage Dream House is Zooropian without the ego baggage of U2. The epic closer Jelly Meadow Bright even manages to combine the unrestrained saxophone of The Stooges’ Fun House with the relaxed cheer of a luxury spa.
It’s not easy to touch on respected, well-known genres and sounds while also refining your own style—but Bugland succeeds. What genre is it, anyway? Is it even shoegaze if it could just as easily sit on a shelf alongside Boards of Canada and Autechre? The correct answer is “yes.” And what a wonderful shelf that would be. Bugland is proof of White-Gluz’s evolution and her ability to channel a wide range of influences into something cohesive—something that can descend into refined chaos and then effortlessly emerge again.
