Alright, let’s dive into Jingles by Stephan North — a wild ride through genres that feels like someone handed him the entire musical universe and said, “Go nuts.” Released in 1996 via Dennis Music (Netherlands), this album is tagged under basically every genre known to humankind: jazz, classical, funk, soul, rock, folk… you name it. The style leans ambient, but don’t expect anything predictable here.
The first track that stuck with me? "Down The Chimney." It's got this sneaky little groove that creeps up on ya—kinda jazzy, kinda electronic, but not fully committing to either. Like when your cat pretends to ignore you but secretly wants attention. There are these playful synth bleeps mixed with what sounds like an upright bass just vibin’ in the background. Honestly, I kept humming it for days without realizing why—it’s catchy as hell, yet somehow still chill enough for lazy Sunday mornings.
Another standout is "Funkster," which lives up to its name big time. This one’s got swagger. Imagine if James Brown met Daft Punk at a party hosted by Mozart. You’ve got tight drum loops, slap-bass lines so sharp they could cut glass, and these weirdly hypnotic keyboard riffs layered over everything. It’s funky, sure, but there’s also something almost cinematic about it—like it should be playing while some undercover spy dodges lasers in slow motion. Or maybe while you're trying to parallel park under pressure. Either way, it works.
Photography creds go to Angeline van Neerven, whose work perfectly matches the vibe of the record: artsy but approachable, kind of like finding treasure in a thrift shop. And props to Stephan North himself—he composed all these tunes, which must’ve been no small feat given how many styles he crams into one project.
What really makes Jingles stand out is how it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Tracks like "Eat Bananas" and "Leather Jacket" have titles that sound more like doodles than deep artistic statements, but once you hit play, you realize they’re legit earworms. Same goes for "Dance Away"—it’s impossible not to move to, even if you’re just bobbing your head awkwardly at your desk.
Reflecting on this album now, it feels like a love letter to experimentation. Sure, some tracks feel a bit scattered, like Stephan couldn’t decide whether he wanted to make a movie score or a dancefloor anthem. But isn’t that what makes it fun? At the end of the day, Jingles reminds me of those chaotic family dinners where everyone talks over each other—the result might not be polished, but damn if it isn’t memorable.
And hey, fun fact: listening to this album feels like eating a bowl of Lucky Charms—you never know what you’ll get next, but it’s probably gonna be good. Who knew Dutch musicians could pull off such a smorgasbord of sound? Cheers to that.
