III2 by Jupiter Featuring Jonas Kullhammar – A Jazz Odyssey That Kicks Ass
Alright, let’s get straight to it. If you’re into jazz but sick of the same old predictable noodling, III2 by Jupiter (featuring Jonas Kullhammar) might just slap you awake. Released in 2007 outta Norway on Bolage Records, this album doesn’t mess around. It’s raw, unfiltered, and kinda feels like someone threw a bunch of insanely talented musicians into a room and said, “Make something wild.” And holy hell, did they deliver.
First off, credit where it’s due: Jonas Kullhammar kills it on tenor saxophone, owning tracks like he was born for them. Håvard Stubø shreds guitar with attitude, while Steinar Nickelsen lays down some organ grooves so thick you could spread ‘em on toast. Magnus Forsberg smashes his drums like he’s got a personal vendetta against cymbals, and Are Simonsen’s mixing ensures everything sounds tight without losing that live chaos vibe. Claes Persson mastering? Spot-on. This crew didn’t half-ass anything.
Now, onto the tracks. You wanna know why this album sticks? Let me hit you with two standouts:
1. "Snake City West"
This one hits hard right outta the gate. The bassline slinks along like a sneaky alley cat, and then BAM—Jonas comes in wailing on that sax like he’s channeling John Coltrane after six cups of coffee. By the time the synth kicks in, courtesy of Steinar, your brain is already spinning. It’s jazzy as hell but has this gritty edge, almost like it wants to punch you in the face…in a good way. Every time I hear it, I’m reminded why jazz can still surprise us when people actually take risks.
2. "Slow Fox"
Don’t let the title fool ya—this ain’t no slow jam. It starts smooth, lulling you into a false sense of chill before ripping open with these insane drum fills from Forsberg. Then Stubø jumps in with this bluesy guitar riff that makes you wanna grab a drink and stare moodily out a rain-streaked window. Halfway through, Kullhammar takes over again, blowing notes so sharp they could cut glass. This track stays stuck in your head long after it ends, trust me.
So yeah, III2 isn’t perfect—it’s messy, chaotic, and sometimes feels like it’s trying too hard to break rules. But damn if it doesn’t work. There’s something refreshing about an album that refuses to play nice, that dares you to keep up instead of spoon-feeding you catchy hooks.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to this record feels less like hearing music and more like eavesdropping on a conversation between geniuses who forgot anyone else was in the room. Maybe that’s what makes it special. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it because my ears are still ringing. Either way, go listen to this thing. Just don’t blame me if it ruins other jazz albums for you.
