There’s a smooth vibe which drapes itself over the album’s production, from the soulful, easy vocal style to the laid-back instrumentation. Chilled brass slides effortlessly over nagging, funk-infused basslines and clean guitar sounds. The first word that springs to mind is ‘vintage’.
The stripped-back ‘Chelsea Gun’ is hazy, breathy, reflective, and there are some neat changes of pace, but in the main, Sarakula’s creative process is centred around the creation of myriad layers, and production values built around the use of reverb and a sort of soft-tone sonic edging reminiscent of Phil Spector. It’s fitting, given his clear drawing on 60s and 70s pop tropes, from the trilling keyboards to the insistent drumming that’s straight off so many Motown classics.
In much the same way that Mark Ronson has an ear for replicating and repackaging retro in the most marketable of packages, so ‘The Imposter’ shows Sarakula is a keen observer and an adept composer and musician. But there’s something absent from the songs that’s as hard to define as what it is that’s appealing about them. I’m reluctant to use the word ‘authenticity’, but it’s close enough. In other words, ‘The Imposter’ is appropriately titled: in drawing on influences and recreating the sounds of a past that doesn’t belong to him Sakarula may on the surface appear as an artist out of time, but ultimately, he’s a master forger rather than a master in his own right.
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Joel Sarakula Online
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