Reviews
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Mike Davis BRUM BEAT: Headed up by Ash Hemming, JJ ASH are a reformed incarnation of a trio that first made waves in the 90s, announcing their return with Irish Lover, a terrific moody and menacing stomp and clap folk rock persuasion single that moves from opening acoustic strum to the steady drum beat and electric guitars as the first person narrative tells how a young lad unwisely hooked up with an older woman (“she was the age of my mother/16 when I met her/Oh, quite a man when I left her”) who happened to be married to someone away with the Irish army (the IRA, one assumes) who is now back and looking for payback. It’s a hypnotic listen, though perhaps a more emphatic ending might have been better than the gradual fade.
ILLUSTRATE MAGAZINE
Review by: Naomi Joan
There’s something deliciously old-school yet quietly rebellious about J. J. ASH’s return, and “Irish Lover” slips right into that sweet spot between nostalgia and spunk. With roots stretching back to the early ’90s, the band leans into their years, spinning a tale drawn from youthful recklessness and the love that leaves fingerprints on your entire life. Recorded in a home setup, the track carries that raw, close-to-the-bone intimacy, with no frills, no fuss, just story and sound doing the heavy lifting. It’s folk, rock, a little bluesy around the edges, and honestly, it wears all those influences like a well-loved leather jacket.
Right off the bat, “Irish Lover” opens with a glistening acoustic strum, shimmering alongside the soft jingle of percussion, like a memory flickering back to life. Then, in comes the slow, steady drum. And the singer comes in singing with his high, husky voice, just a little haunted. He confesses how helpless he was in the whole ordeal as if he was spellbound, in the line, “She sunk me in and made me suffer.” The electric guitars slide in, melodic and slightly biting, giving the track a sharper backbone.
Lyrically, it doesn’t beat around the bush. The narrative is messy, taboo, and unforgettable, and it unfolds honestly, owning up to the audacity. He sings “Oh my Irish lover, she was the age of my mother/16 when I met her/Oh, quite a man when I left her,” the lines hitting like a curveball, bold and unapologetic, while the chorus circles back with a hypnotic, almost spellbound refrain. But it really gets you wondering at the reliability of the narrator, because were they really “lovers” if he was just 16? Seems like sexual assault and exploitation to me. But I guess the times and places differ. You see how messed up the story is, especially when it brushes against danger, and the absent husband in the army chases after the boy when he might have been the victim.
Despite the toxic dynamics, or because of them, “Irish Lover” is a contagious song, with the music as feisty as the lover herself.
Radio Armazem
Editor
There are songs that simply tell stories; others, a few, possess the rare virtue of becoming the very setting where affective memory decides to reside. “IRISH LOVER,” the latest single from British artist JJ ASH, arriving on streaming platforms on March 27th, is a work that perfectly fits into this second category. It's folk, it's rock, it's one of those sepia-toned portraits that you swear you saw in an old family album, even if it's the first time you're listening to it.
The track emerges from a place of almost confessional intimacy. Conceived in the comfort of the band's home studios, far from the aseptic spotlights of large studios, the production carries an authentic breath, an organic warmth that only the raw and true recording of emotions can provide. It's as if the melody, bathed in a vaguely melancholic folk sound, were sculpted from wood and guitar strings, while the sober and precise rhythmic base anchors the song to the firm ground of roots rock.
The narrative, inspired by the band's teenage experiences, is a poetic study of the nature of the loves that colonize our souls. It's not just a summer fling, but a spiritual possession. The lyrics weave the saga of a young man bewitched by an Irish woman, a figure who, like a modern druidess, binds him with an invisible knot. The genius of the composition lies in how it transforms this fleeting episode into a benevolent ghost, a "ghostly thread" that traverses time and ties all the protagonist's future loves to that first, overwhelming encounter.
The emotional complexity is amplified by the accompanying music video. By using artificial intelligence tools to bring evocative photographs of the band to life, the director creates a dreamlike and slightly disturbing visual universe. The images are not mere illustrations; they are the visual echo of the song, showing the betrayed husband's pursuit as a metaphor for the idea that certain choices will haunt us forever. It's a tale of desire and danger that unfolds in digital brushstrokes and grainy portraits.
With “IRISH LOVER,” JJ ASH proves that age is not a stopwatch for creativity, but rather a still that distills experiences. The band, which carries the resilience of those who saw Britpop born and die, and who flirted with electronic music in the 2000s, returns with a vigor that is not youthful, but rather perennial. The song flirts with the narrative elegance of a Dylan, the pop melancholy of a Bowie, and the folk rawness of a post-Beatles Lennon, but without ever sounding derivative. It sounds like a reckoning with the past and a warm embrace of the present, an irresistible invitation for the listener to also revisit their own memories and let themselves be carried away by the echo of a presence that refuses to disappear.
