‘I believe more than ever in the collective power of the underground.’ An interview with Jazz Lambaux

Jazz Lambaux is a composer and performer currently based in Paris, France. Refusing to choose between instrumental composition and pop music, he collaborates with Breton piper Enora Morice, blending the bagpipes with heavily computer-processed samples and vocals. He has performed multiple times in Europe, Asia and the USA, sharing the stage with A.G. Cook, John Zorn, Clarissa Connelly, Worldpeace DMT and Lord Spikeheart. His first album, Music for Fools (2022-2024), was released this year on French label Editions Gravats.

What is the genesis of your project? How and when did you get into actively making music? What is your background? 

I wrote the first Jazz Lambaux song in October 2021. I knew it was part of something different from what I’d done before, because the song had midi bagpipes in it and I wanted to have a real person playing them. Then I found Breton piper Enora Morice online, and we started playing shows together. 

I started learning the electric guitar at the age of ten, studied blues in a small music school in the south of France, played a lot of metal at home, and then my twin brother and I and my two best friends formed an indie punk rock band called The Dodoz in 2006. I spent my teenage years playing shows with that band. It was great—right in the middle of the Myspace era, which felt new and exciting. After that, we dived a little deeper into the music industry thing—bigger labels, booking agents and all that. Then in 2018, I started releasing music solo under the name Jazzboy, in a more intuitive way. I’d been writing and recording solo music at home on GarageBand since 2004, but I’d never really thought it was made for anyone except me. Then I started releasing stuff online and really loved the feeling—it was incredibly freeing. I’ve stuck to this DIY, bedroom-style process ever since, and I feel like it truly saved my love for music.

America seems to feature a lot in your albums and across your songs. What is the reason for incorporating it ideologically and sonically? 

Like everything in my lyrics, the America thing isn’t 100% conscious, to be honest. But like a lot of French teenagers, I grew up listening to American music—The Velvet Underground, Fugazi, Television, Blink-182, Marilyn Manson. I spent a lot of my teenage years in my room, listening to that kind of music, and reading the lyrics in the CD booklet. So, then you start to hear so much about a place, the people there, the cities, their imaginary worlds, their everyday lives… Thinking about it now, I’m sure it did shape my imagination a little bit, but I think I also tweaked it to fit my own world—the south of France. 

Years later, I played my first solo show as Jazzboy in New York City in 2018, at this crazy venue called The Glove. It truly changed my life, because I felt a real connection to the underground music scene there (thank you, Simon). Since then, I’ve kept going back to play shows and started collaborating with a piper from Montclair, New Jersey called Drew Mullins, who became a true friend. 

But the more I returned, the more I started seeing the darker side of America, meeting people who were (and still are) really struggling, getting destroyed psychologically, physically and financially by the city. And I’m noticing the same thing happening in France, just with a few years delay. There’s something about America that feels kind of cursed and monstrous, but also prophetic. And I think it’s a fascinating setting for any fiction (be it film or songs or whatever), because it’s like the core of horror, yet people still have to shine through it. It’s so morbidly interesting, you know? The way this translates to France, how it clashes with our more traditional way of thinking… I also just like the contrast of the grotesque French medieval jester singing songs and telling jokes to the biggest imperialist power that’s ever existed. But again, that’s just me talking about it now. There might be plenty of other reasons I still don’t fully grasp, which is why I love the act of writing in the end.

Your release Music for Fools (2022-2024), which came out on Editions Gravats in January this year, is described as “an elegy for a demographic with little-to-no property ownership prospects, entangled in a never-ending culture war and a meaningless consumption race—a meager solace for a generation raised on Green Day’s American Idiot and Marilyn Manson’s Portrait Of An American Family.” Can you elaborate? 

Ahah, I actually didn’t write that text—my friend Pam did—but it really spoke to me. I can’t really elaborate on his words because that’s his own perception of the music, but it does make a lot of sense. Then again, if someone else had written something completely opposite to this, that could also be very relevant. There’s no fixed meaning in anything I write, there’s just what I meant at the moment I wrote the song, and then, most importantly, whatever anyone makes of it. The more different meanings it has for people, the better for me.

Your new release, “War”, came out on 26 September. Can you talk about it? 

So “War”is a song that features 300SkullsAndCounting and Lucie on vocals and Enora Morice on Scottish smallpipes. It was released in both plugged and unplugged versions on City Links Recordings in September.

The story behind it is that I went to see a show at Les Instants Chavirés in Paris and saw the 300SkullsAndCounting set without previously knowing his music. Seeing this kid in his pineapple shirt, turning his back to the audience and doing grindcore voice memo skits between songs made me laugh, smile, and almost cry. Two days later, I hit him up and asked him to scream on the song I’d just written. We ended up shooting an unplugged live performance in the very same venue where I first saw him, just a week after that show. The collab happened like a flash—so fast and instinctive and fun. It was the same with Lucie; I live with her, and it was all done very quickly. But this song gave me the idea of forming an unplugged band with three megaphones, one bagpipe and one resonator guitar. Now the band is going on tour this winter for 20 shows all over Europe, with no PA system and with 300SkullsAndCounting opening each show with a 15-minute set. So, this is the longest joke I’ve ever made, but it truly feels like a dream come true. I want us to be the French Pogues—but DIY, ahah.

There is an interesting juxtaposition between the almost slapstick-like music & vocals and many of the themes you touch upon. Can you talk about it? 

I just really like contrast in general— clashing ideas or tones. That’s where things become more interesting, because they’re taken out of their usual context and become either silly, ugly, or sometimes just more real. It’s like telling someone a big joke, but there’s something so real inside that joke that it reaches a weird state of absolute truth. I just like this zone, and I try to reach it in different ways— through sound, lyrics, image or performance. It’s a really fun quest because the path is always different, and I have to channel some very childish feelings to get there. I think humour is so precious when it comes to something as serious as music or songwriting.

What is the role of irony in your work? 

Honestly, I don’t even know what’s ironic anymore. I don’t feel like I consciously use irony, because I’m more inclined to aim at authenticity or naivety. Irony often feels very self-conscious, and I try to distance myself from that as much as possible. But I understand that some of what I do could be perceived as ironic, which is interesting because it gives everything a double meaning. It’s like, everything is real and honest, but also maybe absolutely not. And I’m totally fine with that.

What power do you think artists have in terms of changing something in society, especially in times like these?

I believe more in artists, promoters and audiences as one collective thing rather than just artists alone. I don’t think a single artist can change the world, but I do believe music scenes can. Look at what punk rock, reggae or hip-hop did to empower people who aren’t part of the elite. I believe more than ever in the collective power of the underground, and the influence it has on a lot of people, how they grow up and the paths they choose in life. Like learning how to organise, create and produce something positive together that isn’t about dominating other people. Setting your own rules, basically. That’s not an easy thing to do, but I guess I still really want to believe in it. 

Interview Lucia Udvardyova
Photo Justin Sagalow