25 Odd Songs, Jumble Hole Clough (Jumble Hole Clough)
Colin Robinson (aka Jumble Hole Clough) is nothing if not prolific. His latest album, 25 Odd Songs, is the fiftieth in a series that began back in 2012. It takes the form of a compilation album, a collection of twenty-five songs from the previous forty-nine, chosen by Robinson with a little help from his fans and friends. The first nineteen albums – many of them live – chart him evolving what Roger Trenwith describes as an ‘ambient improv kraut funk-prog’ style (other critics name-check Robert Fripp). There are signs of things to come (the short, whackily-titled tracks, for example), but the most significant stylistic turning-point comes with the twentieth album: the first of three volumes of ‘music for imaginary puppet shows’. There always was an element of quirkiness, but the sound-world here expands and the music becomes more urgent, taking on the eldritch quality anyone coming to JHC now would immediately associate with it. These are followed by A List of Things That Never Happened, the first JHC album – someone will correct me if I’m wrong – on which Robinson sings. There are further innovations to come – explorations of dream-worlds, generative music and longer musical forms, for example – but, from that point on, the distinctive JHC sound has been established. The earliest song on 25 Odd Songs is taken from that first vocal album and finds Robinson involved in a typically surreal, oneiric project, ‘building a bridge to [us] from the roof of a disused supermarket in Budapest’ (I’m guessing Corvintető). He describes how it ‘was written on the roof of [the said supermarket]. Using pataphysics and glue. On another part of the roof, someone was making a porn film.’ For those who don’t know, pataphysics, a whimsical parody of science which admits absurd conclusions, was the invention of Robinson’s kindred spirit, the French symbolist Alfred Jarry. The most recent song on the album is from L’agent leve son baton blanc, which was released in August this year (2025). In an interview in IT last year, Robinson talked a bit about his titles and song lyrics: ‘A quote from the late Richard Knutson: “Titles are of the utmost importance. They’re a window into the soul of the composer.” I hate going round an art gallery and seeing paintings called “Untitled”. I put a lot of thought into the titles of my songs and albums, and make sure I choose a cover photo which matches the title and the feeling of the album. People have said that some of my pieces are humorous. That’s not the intention, although most of my songs will make me laugh at some point during their construction. The lyrics and titles are not gibberish, although some may well be nonsense. There’s a big difference. … I keep a notepad by my bed, and write down any interesting dreams. These form a basis to quite a few of my lyrics. There is often a puzzling quality about these, which I like a lot.’
And there’s a lot here to like. Everyone will have their favourites. I have a few. There’s the heavy, hilarious ‘Here Come the Bears’, the attention-grabbing first track of the album Don’t Say Nowt. Then there’s the surreal ‘You’re filling the back of my car with riot shields’: it’s weird and hilarious, but, at the same time poignant, when you know that the person loading up the car in the dream that inspired it was the late Richard Knutson, who died in 2020 and who had collaborated with Robinson on some of his earlier work (I know this as there are brief, but really useful notes on the origin of each song). It makes you realise, if you hadn’t realised already, that there’s a dark side to all the Dada/surrealist playfulness. Indeed, humour, if I understand Robinson right, is – much as the best humour often is – merely a by-product. ‘Afternoon in Morningside’ is the first track of the album Up the Wooden Hills to Heckmondwike, an album which set out to explore the building of longer forms (JHC numbers are typically quite short). Not only does it succeed structurally, but it’s also very evocative (and, attentive listeners will notice, the bears put in an appearance). Perhaps I’m a little bit biased: I used to have a mate who, like Robinson’s aunties, lived in Morningside; I’ve spent many – if not quite so eldritch – happy afternoons there myself! I say that but, come to think of it, I do have a memory from decades back of walking down the pavement outside a pizza-place on the edge of the Meadows, trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement. The disturbing strangeness of JHC is not far below the surface in all of us. Therein lies part of its charm.
I could go on and name-check a few more tracks, but I’ll leave them for the reader to discover for themselves. Suffice to say this is a strong collection of songs from a strong body of work – the strongest of the strong, if you like. Not only that, but for anyone unfamiliar with JHC, it’s a great place to start – just find your way back from the songs here to the albums they came from. And Robinson has said that he’s thinking of putting together a similar compilation album of instrumental tracks, which is something to look forward to.
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Dominic Rivron
LINK
25 Odd Songs: https://jumbleholeclough.bandcamp.com/album/25-odd-songs
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