At only 19, Jane Remover has no obligation to compose hour-long rock tragedies. That hasn't stopped her.
In my most recent article covering Underscores's album Wallsocket, I quipped that Jane Remover finally had competition in her exclusive concept of hyperpop-tinged indietronica. And yes, when compared to Jane Remover’s debut Frailty, that is certainly the case. Without taking sides, both Wallsocket and Frailty succeed at a similar goal: bridging the immaturity of hyperpop with the characteristic gloom of indie. That comparison is irrelevant, however, on Jane Remover’s second full-length release, Census Designated. It’s clear I have a penchant for hyperpop. But Census Designated is not hyperpop. Instead, it is a wonderful blend of shoegaze - though I hate to label it as such - and patient, post-rock inclinations. It is also Jane’s monumental achievement, which is especially shocking given my staunch adoration for her ‘dariacore’ series. Now I am duty-bound to put my awe into words.
Let’s begin with the cover art. Compared to the pixelated, suburban setting of Frailty, Census Designated is devoid of civilization, save for the decrepit shack that - relative to the plains surrounding it - appears to dominate the frame. The resolution is perfect; every detail is exposed. From the way the light hits the roof, I get the impression that the time of day is sunset. And yet Jane is the sole witness, staring off into the moon-like landscape in peace. Or introspection. Or anguish. Both of the lead singles advertised visceral covers in which Jane was either pushed against a window, lips full of blood; or sitting in the grass, holding a revolver. It’s safe to say that Census Designated is not meant to be a gentle experience.
That doesn’t mean Census Designated is a furious album, either. This is not a power trip, nor is it a desperate race to the finish line. In fact, a distinguishing feature of Census Designated is how jarringly slow it is. Discipline is rewarded. The opener, “Cage Girl / Cam Girl," exemplifies this approach. The yawning, low-seated guitar tone is the singular focus. Drums never make an appearance. Its sweeping ambience is the only indication of a linear progression as it methodically deluges the guitars. This is a bold choice by Jane Remover. While I was already familiar with this type of opening from “Goldfish," the first track off of Frailty, “Cage Girl / Cam Girl” is nearly double the runtime. Moreover, while the second track on Frailty immediately took a left-turn in tempo, Census Designated chooses to revel in its lethargy. For better or for worse.
I’ve seen a lot of polarizing criticism over Jane Remover’s shift in musical direction. Generally, they focus on two complaints: First, that the tracks are ‘drawn out’ and tedious; and second, that melancholy shoegaze is incompatible with Jane’s vocal style and she should stick to Frailty’s glitzy, blaring anthems. These are fair points. I had comparable reservations on my first listen or two. They are also incontestable: Census Designated is messy, entirely protracted, and monotonous. To go further, I would call these the defining features of Census Designated. But who in their right mind would consciously choose this? I don’t believe that Jane deliberately sabotaged her music; but I do believe that she did not proofread it either. The result is an album structure that is naturally unbalanced. The benefit is that it doesn’t feel contrived, or artificial. Instead, Census Designated is spontaneous. Musical entropy.
I will illustrate this within the context of the second track, “Lips," which was also a lead single. Off the back of 6 minutes of tension in “Cage Girl / Cam Girl," I would expect “Lips” to be a tonal foil, and provide a much-needed release. Similar to “Your Clothes” from Frailty. This ends up being half-true. If I didn’t know the trajectory of “Lips," I would likely be caught off guard by the first 3 minutes, which consist of basic rhythmic strumming. Of course, the blast of white noise at the end of the track is gratifying in every way possible, but it only occurs after 10 minutes of doldrums across two songs. No wonder some listeners dismiss Census Designated as tiresome from the very beginning. Over the course of the album, the truly thrilling passages are few and far between, but that’s likely the point. Jane requires her listeners to work for their reward - at least that’s one way to put it. Broken and jaw drop beautiful is another way.
It’s difficult for me to pick and choose which songs to spotlight on Census Designated. Each is an essay in its own right. My two absolute standouts, however, are “Holding A Leech” and “Idling Somewhere." The lyrical themes of both of these songs revolve around domestic abuse: “He can’t stop watching me / I dance, I dance, I dance / On the floor, claw marks - and the back of my dress.” Personally, I don’t regard the lyrics as a higher standard than any other noise-rock album. Jane’s over-produced, androgynous vocals betray enough emotion for me to feel grief, anyways. They’re even more effective in tandem with the instrumentation. As a sum of their parts, these songs are filled with dread. “Holding A Leech” is especially horrifying. Not in a ghost kind of horror, but in a stepping to the edge of a vast abyss and feeling your stomach sink kind of horror. There’s a distinct gravity as well, as if even the slightest movement requires the greatest exertion. Marching towards a certain end. In contrast, “Idling Somewhere” would be floating several meters above the ground - suspended in agony. Here, the genre of noise is not buried and suffocating but acute and unequivocal. Either way, there’s little escape barring the superfluous amount of ambient passages that comprise the back-half of the track. At this point, respite is welcome.
Honestly, if you listen to Census Designated with the expectation of indulgence, you’re going to be begging for scraps. Take a step back, and appreciate Census Designated’s vastness from a macro-perspective. Jane Remover has curated a remarkable landscape of rich textures and soaring harmonies. Set aside an hour of your time, grab a warm drink, find a proper listening spot, and press play. I promise you won’t regret it. Census Designated has no time for the hustle-mentality of urban life. That’s fine. For me, I could appreciate far more music if I simply slowed down. I consume too many albums weekly to fully register more than a surface-level understanding. But that’s why I have this blog, so that you only need to listen to the albums that will provide a first-rate experience. Census Designated is one of those albums. What are you waiting for?
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