(Credits: Far Out / Camille Jansen)

THE SKINNY: The concepts of being an “old soul” or claiming to be “born in the wrong generation” are eye-roll-inducing at best. So often, nostalgia becomes a bore or an excuse to roll out something tired and done before. But in the case of Camille Jansen’s debut album, The Loose Screws, it feels like a time machine back to better days when simplicity was beauty, and the scrappy heart of artistry was still intact.

I say scrappy because, at moments, that’s how this collection of songs feels. Nothing about it is polished; the vocal takes feel raw, the production is so minimal that it feels more like a collection of demos, and sometimes even the song itself, especially ‘Rocky Revolution’, feels like a spark of an idea being hashed out. But when that is delivered with Jansen’s enviably cool that exudes this kind of 1960s Greenwich Village folk scene style, the rough and ready spirit of the record becomes its charm.

There are elements of so many of the 1960s and ‘70s greats here. Collaborating with her friend and fellow vintage-loving artist Devon Ross, the duo have clearly had a lot of fun melting all their life-long favourite musicians into this project. There are some classic Rolling Stones-esque bluesy guitar parts. Some doo-wop toned spoken word moments, some spirally folky rhythms a-la Joni Mitchell or Joan Baez, or even some more hazy, psychedelic moments like on ‘The Right Time’. The references are all clearly plucked from Jansen’s deep love for decades past, making no real effort at all to modernise or engage with current trends or tricks that new production technology could afford. Instead, she’d made an album that sounds like she’s gone to the studio and made a record, just her and a band, her influences and her inspiration. It’s an LP for an audience longing for a release based solely on good, honest talent.

There’s something intrinsically linked with Bob Dylan that pervades the tracks. Maybe it’s Jansen’s sprawling melodies that sometimes meander off as if following a train of thought, or maybe it’s the simple finger-picked guitars that lead so many of these tracks. But I think mostly it’s the kind of compromise-less vision that coloured Dylan’s early albums and endless love for music heard across his Bootleg Series. The Loose Screws feels reminiscent of The Freewheelin Bob Dylan or his first, folky releases — full of unique stories told only in his own language of lyrics and musicality. 

As she launches her debut album, Jansen boldly does the same. It feels weird to claim that an album this simple is brave and bold, but it feels that way in this day and age. Clearly not caring at all about making a quick hit, but instead being dedicated to honouring her musical heart and spirit and saying what she wants to say in her way, the result is a cohesive snapshot of who she is, shared in a good old fashioned way that will never go out of style.

For fans of: Claiming music was better back in the old days

A concluding comment from the Woodstock 1969 bookers: “Hey Camille, wanna come play?” 

The Loose Screws track by track

Release date: July 5th | Producer: Zach Tabori | Label: Independent

‘Loose Screw’: Jansen launches into the album with a bluesy anthem that sounds like a full-band jamming in a garage in the best way. Powered by nothing but pure vibes, her old-school voice paired with Devon Ross’ guitar needs no added bells or whistles. [3.5/5]

‘Rocky Revolution’: Reminiscent of tracks like ‘Bob Dylan’s Dream’ or any other meandering folk-blues track, ‘Rocky Revolution’ feels more like a spiralling monologue on the state of the world than any modern song. But with Jansen’s stunning vocals, it’s captivating. [3.5/5]

‘Was Always You’: Ross’ guitar playing, inspired by all the blues-rock legends, returns in full force here for what feels like the most thorough and realised track on the record. Placing Jansen in the position of a swaggering band leader, her angelic vocals move between spoken word power into gentle crooning. [4/5]

‘The Right Time’: Things switch up for something sleazier and more seductive, as if you can smell the smoke clouds billowing in a dimly lit room. Diving into the more psychedelic sounds of the 1960s, we’re in the same era of influence but a distinctly different side of things, adding texture and colour to the release. [3.5/5]

‘Reggie’s Lullaby’: This sweet little musical interlude feels like it belongs on a twee, coming-of-age soundtrack. Cinematic and blissful, it’s a welcome addition. [3/5]

‘Take A Little Off My Plate’: Keeping with the slightly twee vibes, ‘Take A Little Off My Plate’ feels like the kind of song a character would sing in a song if they just happened to grab an acoustic guitar. Each of Jansen’s performances feels like a whole tale or emotional world, and this is no different. [3/5]

‘Mimi and Moe’: They let it rip here as Ross’ guitar roars to life, and Jansen returns to her role at the helm of her bluesy troupe. Tackling the end of a relationship with a razor-sharp edge and timeless style, this song feels like it could have existed for decades now, as its swaggering spirit is classic. [4/5]

‘The Ballad Of The Missing Woman’: For the final track, Jansen presents her most adventurous outing in the form of this true crime-inspired romp. As the narrative rolls on, the instrumentation swells and soars around it with a scale reminiscent of The Beatles’ White Album. [3.5/5]