When we last left them in 2015, JEFF the Brotherhood had released two radically different records in the span of eight months. The first, Wasted on the Dream, was a parade of pop-punk hooks that sagged under the weight of major label compromise. The other, Global Chakra Rhythms, harkened back to their Hawkwind-ian psychedelic roots with six-minute space-outs. Both records were distinctly JEFF, but veered off in wildly different directions.
That capriciousness is part of what makes the Bogus Bros so exciting: You never quite know what version of JEFF you’re going to get. Will it be the Weezer-worshipping guitarmonies of Hypnotic Nights? The thudding power punk of Heavy Days? The otherworldly psychedelic haze of The Boys R Back in Town?
On Zone, JEFF’s 10th full-length (out last week on Canadian indie Dine Alone Records), brothers Jake and Jamin Orrall manage a deft combination of all three, weaving in and out of three-chord vibes without making a big show of it.
That is perhaps best exemplified by “Punishment,” one of the songs that comes closest to “single” territory; it starts out as a driving punk pounder while skronky guitar tones creep inward, eventually taking over in a swirl of delay pedals that plays out for three-quarters of the song’s three-minute runtime.
The Brothers Orrall have always tended toward extended freak-outs (see also: Skyblazer), but with Zone, they’ve managed to have their cake and eat it too. Yeah, those six-minute jams are heady and mesmerizing, but they’ve found the sweet spot of how to grab that psychedelic vibe and layer it inside the straightforward punk rock of their past without losing anything in translation.
Zone also corrects one of the biggest sins of JEFF’s recent past: the near-exclusion of Bully singer Alicia Bognanno, whose backing vocals on Wasted cut “Mystified Minds” were rendered barely audible by a radio-friendly major-label-approved mix. Bognanno takes the lead on “Roachin,” a sludgy throwback to DGC-ere Sonic Youth and early-’90s experimental alt-rock. The song sounds and feels like a direct rebuke to the Orralls’ brief tenure at Warner Bros., defiant in whom they choose to perform with, and embracing the oozing aesthetics that their major-label-bankrolled LPs skirted.
But Zone isn’t all space-cadet guitar licks. What’s always been at the heart of why JEFF the Brotherhood works as a band is the vulnerability that beams from the center of their songs. That’s what hundreds of kids at an overflowing Freakin’ Weekend festival show latch onto, feeling those feels because they’re so utterly relatable. That comes through clearly on Zone’s most straightforward gemstones, like the self-deprecating “Idiot,” or “Bad,” a restless anthem that rates among the duo’s all-time best songs.
The real question is, where does JEFF go from here? According to their label, Zone completes the “spiritual trilogy” of records started with Heavy Days in 2009, and it feels like a conclusion. Over the past 15 years, the Orralls lived the lives of three different bands: underground teenage scuzz punks, major label pop hook generators, psychedelic space Sherpas. Now we’re excited for this JEFF: fully realized, and not holding anything back.
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