You know that feeling when your stereo’s been collecting dust, and suddenly a track comes along that demands you crank the volume until your neighbour starts banging on the wall? That’s Jetlag’s debut, “Prozac Nation.” These London lads aren’t messing about. They’ve cooked up a slice of indie-rock maximalism that hits like a double shot of espresso and a cigarette stomped into the pavement.
From the first grind of that rhythm guitar—yeah, that loose, Keith Richards-style strut—you’re locked in. It’s the kind of riff that doesn’t ask permission; it just takes over your hips. Then, BAM. The brass stabs punch through like a horn section that’s had one too many pints and loving every second of it.
Lyrically, the band taps into that Dylan-esque stream-of-consciousness vibe, but don’t expect any folkie hand-holding. “Prozac Nation” is about the modern mess—heroes turning into zeroes overnight, folks walking around like zombies while the world burns. It’s chaotic, sure, but that’s the point. These cats aren’t pretending to have answers. They’re just holding up a cracked mirror to the noise, and damn if it doesn’t feel good to dance in the rubble.
What makes Jetlag stand out is how they balance that old-school rock ‘n’ roll attitude with fresh, experimental indie grit. You can tell they’ve been sweating it out in some tiny London rehearsal space, feeding off each other’s energy.
If you dig The Rolling Stones’ bravado, The Black Keys’ fuzz, or Primal Scream’s rave-up chaos, Jetlag is your new fix. “Prozac Nation” is a mission statement. Play it loud. Play it twice. And for the love of rock, don’t sleep through this.