THE OLD ME vs. THE NEW YOU
Album.CD
Trust Me Records (2001)
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You”
The
last time we spied on dry wit Jesse Hartman, he was rolling Opening Credits on
a modern synth-pop classic that updated the ‘80’s croon of the Human League
with a quietly theatrical emotionalism—a spooky, dour vision that actually
derived its ha-ha-heart (and moodless deadpan) from the Human League’s darker
days of Travelogue. Fast forward to this second LP, and Hartman’s passionately
felt, pimply adolescence (his earlier ensemble, Pavement manqué Sammy, was his
childhood) has given way to a cattier adulthood, an undulating synthrawk with
lyrics that chide its protagonist into constant glowing growth whether he likes
it or not. Though I can do without Hartman’s chirpier background vocals,
densely produced anthems like “Myth America” and “The New You” aren’t thwarted
by syrupiness in his effort to reveal the possibilities of radical change using
media success as the yardstick for human potential. Lest you think his cause is
always so noble, Hartman is also a bit of a scam artist, albeit a romantic one.
His jittery, tin-disco take on Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide World,” the lonely
“I Can’t Say Hi” and the dippy “Back Together” are a cute as they are cutting.
For all this pop, it’s Hartman’s dirge-like finale, the mono-poetic “We Never
Made It to Venice,” that show his cinematic élan. Fuzzed-out, stark and
alarmingly poignant, Laptop show off a small-screen charm that makes you wish
the opening credits were rolling all over again.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You” (8/10)
By April Long
Like Zoot Woman without the suits, Jesse Hartman's
compass is locked on 1982 with a steely, unwavering certitude bordering on the
sinister. Hartman was once the uninspired frontman of New York nobodies Sammy,
and his reinvention as Laptop maestro has already surprised and impressed (with
the wonderful End Credits in 1997) those who thought he could do no better.
Further progress, however, has been scuppered by bureaucratic rigmarole - hence
the inclusion here of songs several years old, and the facetious commentary on
the music industry made in the Human League pulse of the title track.
Hartman's as dour as ever - attempting to crawl back to an
old lover in Back Together and imagining himself as ruler of the universe with
"a brood of schizoid children all my own" in 21st Century Word.
Indeed, in We Never Made It To Venice, he proves himself a master of sardonic
humour to rival Bill 'Smog' Callahan, reading a travel guide in deadpan over a
loop of the titles refrain. Hartman's stylized retro-futurism takes him
backwards and forwards at the same time. However, rarely has the sound of going
nowhere fast been so satisfying
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You” (4/5)
Hard-bitten, hard drive pop from America with added
irony. Half
expressive digital sound manipulator, half cynical street drunk, Jesse "Laptop" Hartman's sophomore release sees him sizing up
to take on the big time. Twelve solidly crafted synth-pop songs devoid of
fauz-naif retrodelicism give him the air of a slightly
thuggish Magnetic Fields. A one-time Voidoid (playing
alongside Richard Hell on a comeback tour), Hartman's
NY street-savvy punky post-modernism electronica is composed of pure pop hooks,
misanthropic lyrics, and no-frills production that heads straight for the feet
and hops, via the brain. Includes a cover of Wreckless Eric's "Whole Wide
World", and current single "Back Together".
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Sonja Zjawinski
With seductive vocals reminiscent of Roxy Music's Bryan
Ferry and a penchant for dark humoured lyrics, Laptop's second album continues
the themes of his first: mocking the music industry and confronting past
lovers. Theversatile rocker forms unusual sounds through the synthesis of a
slide guitar, Nord Lead 2 keyboard, and a White-hall organ. Mixed with cutting
verses, this release is bitter harmony.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By Anna Britten
We're mad about the boy. Laptop, AKA mischievous,
snarling, New York synth-pop genius Jesse Hartman, is one of the few artists
that the whole Time Out music section can agree on news of this latest album
and this week's live date was greeted with distinctly un-muso like glee. But
don't take our word for it: if you buy this, chances are you'll feel the same.
Imagine the Human League reborn today as wisecracking, East
Village flaneurs - fat, ramraiding melodies reminiscent of the great '80s
post-disco pop of Pet Shop Boys and the theme tunes of John Hughes films like
Ferris Bueller's Day Off; lyrics as sharp as a Woody Allen-penned episode of
Friends; served up on both the gadgetry of futuristic electronica (a Mac
PowerBook) and good, old fashioned guitar. If last year's brilliant debut
Opening Credits and its bitchy attacks on ex-girlfriends and rival musicians
was 'a users guide to your twenties', this sees Hartman moving on to his next
decade, getting older, more vulnerable, and thinking he should settle down:
'C'mon man, it's time to grow up/You're no spring chicken' he chides himself on
Not The Right Time. On the so-good-it-hurts Back Together he tries to win back
an ex and on Whole Wide World (a cover of the Wreckless Eric song) he imagines
his dream woman. It's like Sex And The City for boys. Only better.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You (4/5)
Are you ready for a musical bitch slap to kick off
2002? Well, plug into Laptop, aka New York musician, filmmaker, and actor Jesse
Hartman. The disc features 12-tracks laced with once-bitten, thrice-shy,
streetwise, New Wave synthpop, reflecting Hartman’s horrific experiences with
lame record companies and psycho ex-lovers. Bitterness and miserable
storytelling never sounded so damn sweet, sort of like Richard Lewis penning
lyrics (and faux British accent) for Gary Numan or the Human League. But while
Hartman slyly stabs you with these somewhat sardonic lyrics, he also serves up
pop hooks that pack a wallop. The disc’s no-frills production keeps the tracks
clean and comfy, featuring retro-sounding analog synthesizers, lo-fi clubs
beats, and some filthy guitar twanging. The title track is a huge winner, with
its lopping bass line and lyrics that cleverly espouse how everyone needs a
gimmick and a schtick (very Hollywood), while “Not the Right Time“ swaggers
along with a trip-hop vibe, espousing how love just never seems to arrive when
you expect it. His cover of Wreckless Eric’s “Whole Wide World“ transcends his
own cleverness and is entirely fitting next to his own compositions. Hartman’s
tunes will twitch on your brain and attach to your hips—simmering a ton of new
wave influences in a modern-retro stew. This Laptop is plugged in and ready for
you to log on.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You”
Totally
'80s synth-pop that makes you wonder, did the '90s even happen?
By Jimmy Draper
As the faux Brit brainiac behind the one-man band Laptop, New York's
Jesse Hartman has already put out two ridiculously infectious full-lengths in
2001 and is currently prepping a third for release in February. Few acts could
release three quality albums in under a year, but if his debut and its
follow-up, The Old Me vs. the New You, are indications, then Hartman's
got more than enough synth-pop tics and tricks up his sleeve to pull off one
helluva triple whammy. Laptop's influences are obviously British--Gary Numan,
Pet Shop Boys, Human League--but Hartman's charm isn't in his Casio keys and
rubber-band beats so much as in his sneering and searing sense of humor. On
this spring's Opening Credits, the ex-Richard Hell guitarist hilariously
tossed off so many entertaining and smart-ass one-liners (see "I'm So
Happy You Failed") that his retro-pop was anything but lost amid the
recent surge of nostalgic nob noodlers looking to the '80s for inspiration.
Thankfully, The Old Me is packed with more of the same Laptop charm,
with Hartman dishing witty wisecracks over insidiously catchy electro-pop
that--if the third time truly is a charm--hints at quite a treat to come in
February.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
One-man
band Jesse Hartman caused a brief sensation last year with his debut Opening
Credits. Since then, Hartman must have listened astutely to all those
early-80’s K-Tel compilations with Men Without Hats, Murray Head and the
Talking Heads, for the album is flooded with cavity-causing chords and synth
melodies. Focusing on broken relationships, songs like “Whole Wide World” and
“The New You” groove with a latter day INXS bass line. Hartman’s voice falters
occasionally between the two Davids (Byrne and Bowie). Even this is a small
price to pay for the overall strength of each tune with a slight exception or
two near the end, including “Social Life” and the monotone “We Never Made It To
Venice.” One might think Hartman still gazes at the Molly Ringwald pin-ups in his
apartment while adjusting his skinny leather tie. Is it so wrong with a sleeper
gem like this?
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
If
you haven’t heard Laptop before, welcome to planet earth, you’re obviously a weird
alien from a distant non-musical planet. Admittedly it’s not quite as up to
scratch as last year’s offering of End Credit’s was but hey, we all know how
hard that would be too top. Quoted as being like ‘Leonard Cohen, remixed by
Devo’ it’s a fairly accurate description. Imagine early Talking Heads with a
razor sharp wit and enough sarcasm to silence an eternal optimist, this is the
album that’ll end up on the multi-play of your hi-fi. It’s Disco, it’s Pop,
It’s New-Wave, it’s all of the above and a whole lot more. Musician, Filmmaker
and actor Jesse Hartman is a refreshing face in a world of choreographed and
false musicians. Open, honest and straight to the point about today’s tragic
state of the music scene, you come away from this album thinking how right he
is, that is, if you can bring yourself to turn it off. Genius, sheer genius.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
Four
out of five stars (Excellent).
By Andy Robson
It’s
cheeky monkey pop time as Laptop (born Jesse Hartman) goes 12 rounds with a
bitchy attack on the sham that is the music business while straining every
muscle to write the ultimate electro-pop song. Every self-respecting artiste
loves to bite the industry hand that feeds them, but at least Hartman has the
grace to write with a back-stabbing humour and an ear for an irritatingly
catchy riff while trashing the suits he obviously feels owe him a living.
One
time Voidoid, Hartman embraces the persona of a more world wise Gary Numan,
employing scrunchy synth sounds, unsubtle bass thumps and spoken-sung lyrics
that turn him into the bastard-mutant-offspring of M, ‘Low’-period Bowie and
Richard Hell. It’s not clever, not grown up, not fashionable – and it works
like a dream, from the exquisitely grooving “Social Life” to the spitting “The
New You.” Cynically, silly, irresistible, like all the best pastiches; Laptop’s
actually better than the originals. If you never danced to techno, you will
now.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Dave Simpson
In
an ideal world, Laptop's Jesse Hartman would be notching up royalties like
peak-era Human League. He would be grinning next to Bryan Ferry on Parkinson
while suave old Bry gushed that it's always nice when people do something new
with Roxy Music's sci-fi legacy. And he would be going out to dinner with Woody
Allen, while the film director enquired what drove Hartman to translate his own
vision of New York characters and nerd life into pop music. Sadly, it doesn't
look like happening. After being one of the most tipped bands of 1998 and 1999,
Laptop (Hartman and various accomplices)were dumped last year in the corporate
buyout of Island Records. Now he's effectively starting again.
Hartman has been chasing a vision for years, and seems unlikely to give up yet.
It began when he bought a keyboard and software for his old personal computer
at home, and he began his quest of combining deliciously dry,
Morrissey/Allenesque words to shimmering League-type synth pop. After all his
hard work, most tracks here date from the Island period and indeed deserve more
than the scrap heap. There's the Iggy-ish 'Social Life', which could have come
straight from an Allen character ("Everybody thinks I need a social
life..." - this theme of social inadequacy is further explored on 'I Can't
Say Hi'); old indie hit 'Gimme The Nite', and his inimitable deadpan version of
Wreckless Eric’s 'Whole Wide World'.
The scars of his industry dabble surface in the viciously humorous title
track("Let’s give him lots of money... sign away. What a gimmick, the kids
will love that...") but Hartman sounds anything but downhearted. This is
popfull of tunes and sizzling wit... if he ever does make it to Parkinson, the
show may never recover.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Irving Bellemead
You
had no idea who Beck was before "Loser" hit, did you? Oh, just admit
it. You got smacked in the head by a genius popster you'd never heard of. Well,
that was really dumb, and you don't want it to happen again, so listen up.
Laptop
is New York's low-key sample-synth-pop master Jesse Hartman. Yes, Laptop is one
of the worst band names ever, but damn if this isn't so so so good that you'll
soon forget about it. Beck references are certainly a reasonable starting
point, given Laptop's clever lyrics, confident, somewhat wise-assed delivery
and knack for writing incredibly catchy but non-stoopid songs, full of strange
sounds, amusing samples and respectably funky beats.
However,
just being Beck-like isn't really enough, since Beck pretty much has that angle
covered. Laptop takes it one step further: Bowie. Specifically, 1980s-loving,
but 1990s-living-and-dabbling-in-electronicaBowie, a la 1997's Earthling.
Hartman does a fantastic Bowie, particularly when he's going for that detached
and monotone, but strangely human android thing. Brilliant.
So,
Beck + Bowie + New York hipster. You could certainly do worse! The New York
side of things comes out most on the lyrics; I'm never quite sure when Hartman
is being a wise ass and when he's being sincere. My hunch is that he's not
always so sure himself. One thing's for sure -- these are some of the cleverest
songs I've heard in forever.
"Back
Together" is probably my favorite track on the disc. In it, Hartman tries
to convince an ex-girlfriend to take him back, using an endless supply of
sure-to-bomb lines and half-hearted apologies. "Just think it might be
time, to admit we were wrong. Okay, I was wrong." "I could not find,
anything better, so I'm crawling back to say, It might be time..." "I
won't be a jerk." You get the idea.
A
little backstabbing is the theme on "I Can't Say Hi", as Hartman
abuses the Cher-robot voice machine while mocking (?) downtown hipsters too
cool to acknowledge one another. "Generational Pattern" is lifted straight
from the Bowie songbook; flat, semi-spoken word verses are followed by a
raucous guitar-heavy chorus. On "We Never Made It To Venice", a
rather desolate loop of Hartman/Bowie singing "We never made it to
Venice" plays in the background as Hartman/droll-hipster recites mindless
passages from a tourist guide to Venice.
"Gimme
The Nite" highlights Hartman's fortunate habit of recording little skits
and inserting them into the middle of his songs. The lyrics come off as a nice
guy's half-hearted wannabe sleazeball attempt to convince a stranger to come
home with him for the night. Meanwhile, the actors in the background play out a
hilarious scenario in which a real live sleazeball is shot down by his
half-amused target:
Him: I
have something to drink at my place.
Her: I'm not going to your place.
Him: Why?
Her: Because you'll be there.
Oh,
he kills me. And I really can't do justice to these songs by describing them.
It's like saying Beck's masterpiece "Debra" is about picking up girls
at the mall. You've just got to hear this stuff to appreciate it. Hartman's got
it going on in all departments; he has a terrific, versatile voice, he writes
extremely intelligent and witty lyrics and he knows how to write super catchy
pop songs that will make you smile and move your bottom at the same time.
Laptop deserves to be huge. This is your chance for in-the-know hipster
stardom-- get this now. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
With
all the overwrought heartache of emo, the mind-numbing rage of punk rock and
the giddy smiles of pop, there’s obviously a surplus of emotion, both good and
bad, in the hearts of most songwriters. What happened to the days when artists didn’t
wear their hearts on their sleeves?
Anyone
who looks for the good old days of detachment and emotional understatement that
new wave perfected shouldn’t have to look much further than Laptop; there’s no
melodrama and no hysterics thrown over the top of Laptop’s synth pop. Instead
the one-man act (known in the flesh as Jesse Hartman) comes through with a
deadpan delivery akin to that of Gary Numan or White Town. While it’s an
approach to songwriting that makes this New York tech-head’s songs a little
less immediate as those overflowing with put-on emotion, it’s every bit as
engaging as anything of the more melodramatic variety.
Synth
pop’s a genre that usually falls through the cracks, though with Laptop around,
it’s hard to wonder why the style isn’t more popular than it is. While The
Old Me vs. the New You isn’t filled with hooks or any newfangled electronic
sounds (Laptop thankfully leaves envelope-pushing up to Depeche Mode and
Radiohead), there’s just enough quirk on this record to make it an interesting
listen.
Hartman’s
beats don’t get too wild, and many are simply warmed-over disco bumpers, though
most of the time they sound fresh enough to drive his songs. From the dense,
almost baroque, arrangements that pit a super-distorted guitar against
keyboards and Hartman’s utilitarian beats ("Back Together") to a
blippy electronic melody that checks classic techno ("Social Life"),
Laptop doesn’t fiddle around with anything that’s less than 100 percent pop. No
matter how pop this record is Hartman avoids sounding kitschy and trite, a
tough one to pull off with a sound that checks new wave as often as The Old
Me vs. the New You does.
Even
more charming than Laptop’s retro spin on synth pop, are Hartman’s vocal tracks.
Delivered with the utmost restraint, Hartman flitters between straight speaking
and the most effortless sing song that minimally serve up songs about
everything from the awkwardness of forgetting a casual acquaintance’s name of
"I Can’t Say Hi" or the tongue-in-cheek adoration of gimmicky
personalities of the title track.
Laptop
does carry a bit of ’80s flair, though it’s done with class and charm. So much
so that it’s hard to picture Hartman doing anything other than his beloved
synth pop. It’s not new, it’s not groundbreaking, but, man, oh man, it’s fun.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Matthew Moyer
The press kit was helpful in that it mentioned that
Jesse Hartman played in a reformed version of Richard Hell and the Voidoids a
few years back. Not only is that factoid pretty cool, but it added another
wrinkle to my brain. The press kit was unhelpful in that it included tons of
press clippings by hacks and non-hacks breathlessly likening Hartman's Laptop
to classic Gary Numan. Howdy, I'd just like to remind everyone who the last
hotly-tipped "New" Numan was -- The Rentals!?!? Blechhh. Do you
really wanna saddle our boy Hartman with that albatross? Do you really want
people digging out their old copies of "Telekon" and "Down in the
Park" and grooving on the cold physicality of Numan's analog keyboards,
and his dead whisper of a voice? No, no, no. That would distract from the fact
that Hartman is doing something pretty goddamn enjoyable on his own terms, and
just because he's bringing some affected poise and razor-sharp synths into the
mix, well…you know the rest. Jesse Hartman's a sarcastic bitch as well, which
is one quality I really admire -- he turns his scathing sneer on
"new" music trends (read somewhere that he's written a song bashing
The Strokes, heh heh), lovers past and future, New York City, and even (in the
spirit of true enlightenment), himself. All of this acerbic commentary is
delivered in a dead panned sigh that does at times, maybe, call to mind Gary
Numan, but it also calls to mind Bryan Ferry and even Drake Sather, so there.
The music is quite well-cultivated, sounding deceptively immediate and analog
even though it was assembled in the hated digital, pulling all of the right
poses and knowing the importance of a well-timed keyboard chime. But is he
really Phil Hartman's brother, or is that just a right good put-on?
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
(4/5)
By Jonathan Long
The name of Laptop's second album is quite apt, considering
that ex-Sammy man Jesse Hartman has one foot firmly rooted in the era of '70s
and early '80s krautrock, and the other perilously dangling over the world of
pop. After record company disputes held up the release of Laptop debut album
'Opening Credits', Hartman's been dying to get back in the hot seat and deliver
a gem of a follow-up. Imagine Beck meeting Roxy Music and you'd be close,
until, that is, you get to the vocodered vocals of 'I Can't Say Hi', which is
almost like Daft Punk knobbing Cher. In fact, this record is full of surprises
around every corner and will probably be criminally ignored by the masses. But,
that's just the way life goes. Investigate now.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Dominic Wills
The Old Me Vs The New You--the follow up to 2000's
critically acclaimed debut, Opening Credits--was completed by Laptop's Jesse
Hartman in double-quick time for a 2001 release, yet it doesn't sound rushed.
Combining the melodic keyboards of 80s glam-pop with tasteful lo-fi percussion,
a snaking bass and occasional floods of filthy electric guitar, Hartman creates
soundscapes that are both considered and invigorating. Vocally, he's mannered
and miserable, like a cross between The Cure's Robert Smith and Psychedelic Furs'
Richard Butler, while his lyrics are tinged with an urban (sometimes hilarious)
world-weariness that has already seen him compared to Woody Allen. The cover of
Wreckless Eric's "Whole Wide World" is entirely appropriate: subdued
yet strangely touching, it shares the quiet, slightly tatty romanticism of
Hartman's own compositions. Hartman is to electro-pop what Fountains of Wayne
are to guitar-pop--he manages to transcend his own cleverness to become
genuinely affecting.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Simon Williams
Stop us if you've heard us before, Elbow fans: intriguing new act releases dead cool indie singles and attracts attention from grown-up labels. Intriguing new act signs up to major record company and after promising start suddenly turns around to see that his A&R man has been sacked and the record company has been taken over by an even bigger conglomerate. Unhappy ending ensues: intriguing new act and confusingly reborn major part company and fight over custody of his debut album...
Very
occasionally referred to as Beck without the barking mad overtones, there are
many early '80s teases lurking within the Laptop oeuvre. It's in the way
Jesse's voice mimics the deadpan dramatics of Gary Numan on 'Generational
Pattern'; it's in the hint of A Flock Of Seagulls' synth crimes in 'Back
Together'; it's even there in his lavish cover of Wreckless Eric's post-punk
favourite 'Whole Wide World', where we find an enigmatic lady speaking French
very much in the style of Visage's 'Fade To Grey'.
In any language then, this is not an album for
nu-metal followers. Calculated of tone, dry of tune and debonair of trouser, 'The Old
Me...' is designed to be sold to a mythical audience
hankering after a past which barely existed, and even
if it did, your name wasn't on the guest list. Whether
or not it will help Jesse to pull off an Elbow-style commercial resurrection is open to conjecture. Whatever happens however, be sure
that Laptop will write a slightly twisted, politely aggrieved song about it.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
SB
Laptop is essentially one-man former indie stalwart
and New Yorker Jesse Hartman, who has spent a considerable number of years in a
variety of lo-fi, indie schmindie outfits like Sammy and Fire. In a nutshell,
Laptop is the electronic reinvention of himself, and the music is wry, literate
synth-pop with Hartman’s Bowie pastiche rounding things off. Hartman, like Beck or Jacques Le
Cont latest ’80s invention Zoot Woman, is certainly witty, self-deprecating and
at times cynical, and his music clearly flirts with ironic pop. Whether or not
he’s entirely serious is never made evident, but whatever his motivation, the
end result is a highly pleasing one.
‘The Old Me Vs The New You’ oscillates between the ’80s pop of Human
League to the more studied art of Devo and it’s certainly an interesting
proposition. Fans of both electronic gadgetry and quirky, intelligent pop will
be drawn to this record.
Laptop: The Old Me vs. The New You
By
Dan LeRoy
Returning with another blast
of sharp and sarcastic synth pop, Laptop, aka talented New Yorker Jesse
Hartman, wastes no time on his second full-length outing cutting everyone
(including himself) down to size. "The New You" is a winningly snide
take on reinvention, with multiple vocals murmuring discouragement in the
background -- something that's becoming a Laptop trademark. Meanwhile, on
"Back Together," Hartman asks an ex for another chance, but even then
can't resist insulting her, by admitting "I couldn't do better." And
the hilariously trivial "I Can't Say Hi" will strike a chord in
anyone who's ever crossed the street to avoid saying hello. However, while his
lyrics are spot-on, the '80s-style backing is more inconsistent here than on
the previous Opening Credits. There's increased emphasis on guitars, and,
overall, the album leans in the direction of Gary Numan (especially given the
exaggeratedly robotic vocals Hartman occasionally affects). But the repetitive
grooves of "Cool Scouts" and "We Never Made It to Venice"
succumb to the same sterility that gave synths a bad name the first time
around, and the entire second half of the album is rather static melodically.
Still, when Hartman puts it all together, he's tough to beat: on "Gimme
the Nite," the album's haunting standout, he tries out his pickup lines
but comes off surprisingly vulnerable, a truly lonely guy beneath the snappy
patter. There's enough of the latter on The Old Me Vs. the New You to keep
anyone smiling, but Hartman's momentary drop of the mask shows he's not just a
one-joke pony.