Jazz Bumps by Andrew James Davis & Anthony Richard Barnard – A Wild Ride Through Sound
Alright, buckle up. Jazz Bumps is one of those albums that doesn’t just sit in your playlist—it punches you in the face with its weird genius. This UK & Europe-born beast from Deep East Music straddles Stage & Screen and Jazz like it owns both genres. It’s not perfect, but damn if it ain’t memorable.
First off, let’s talk about “Bugging Out (60")”—this track slaps HARD. From the opening notes, you’re hit with this frantic energy, like someone dumped a bucket of live wires into your headphones. The rhythm jumps around so much it feels illegal, but somehow Davis and Barnard make it work. You can tell these guys weren’t aiming for "safe." No way. They went full throttle on this one, and I respect the hell out of that. What sticks? The bassline. It’s nasty, dirty, and completely unapologetic. If you don’t bob your head to this madness, check your pulse—you might be dead.
Then there’s “Casual As Yeah (60")”, which flips the vibe entirely. Smooth as butter sliding off a hot knife, this tune sneaks up on you when you least expect it. At first listen, it feels chill, almost too easygoing. But then BAM—the layers kick in. There’s some sly percussion lurking beneath the surface, teasing at something darker. By the time the horns swell in, you realize this isn’t just background music—it’s storytelling without words. And yeah, maybe I’m reading too much into it, but fuck it, that’s what good jazz does. Makes you overthink everything while pretending you’re cool as hell.
Let me get real for a sec: this album ain’t for everyone. Some tracks drag their feet longer than they should (cough “Serendippydown” cough), and others feel like unfinished sketches. But here’s the thing—it doesn’t matter. Jazz Bumps thrives because it refuses to play it safe. Every track has personality, even if that personality occasionally pisses you off.
And hey, isn’t that what art’s supposed to do? Piss you off or blow your mind? Or both?
Reflection time: Listening to Jazz Bumps felt like walking through a funhouse mirror maze where every turn showed me a weirder version of myself. Honestly? I kinda loved it. Fucked-up, unpredictable, and bold as hell—that’s how music should be. Now excuse me while I go figure out why I suddenly want to write poetry about basslines.
