Jack Name's real name is John Webster Adams, but he doesn't care what you call him. The enigmatic L.A. artist has recorded under a lot of names, like Muzz, Fictional Boys, and John Webster Johns. He says that's because he's "sort of anti-identity." "I like the idea of destroying identity... We’re all the same underneath it all anyway." His moniker, then, feels appropriate—"Jack Name" somehow manages to sound even more anonymous than "John Smith." Throughout his album Light Show, his voice shifts pitch and timbre. Sometimes it's high and squeaky, sometimes he goes deep, and sometimes it's completely unintelligible and unrecognizably warped. It's as though he's intentionally making it difficult to pin down one easily definable character behind the music.
Perhaps his elusive nature is there to place stronger emphasis on Light Show's narrative. The album's world is so fully formed and linear, it seems preferable to refer to it is a "rock opera" instead of a "concept album." Name has said the record is inspired by his aversion to "the way kids are put on drugs for educational purposes." It's easy to hear this theme in his symbolism-addled lyrics. Throughout Light Show, there's an implication that one must conform to societal norms, though at the expense of "diluted feelings." The central character, however, learns to embrace his "shadow"—the thing that makes him love dreaming in color and rock'n'roll. These themes are all presented in a world featuring characters that are cartoonishly similar to those from Tommy, The Point, and Yellow Submarine. But Light Show's overall arc follows a sort of Brave New World logic—sometimes it's better to be an individual than to medicate and become a neutral-minded pod person. "I’ve always questioned the whole idea of ‘chemical imbalance,’ because I don’t think there’s anything wrong with those kids," Name said. "There’s something wrong with the world."
It's an ambitious idea, to write an album-length parable about how attention-deficit medications, antidepressants, and other pharmaceuticals are capable of crushing someone's creative spirit. It's a potentially resonant topic, too, as artists have shared stories about antidepressants' negative (and positive) effects on their artistic drive. And although Name follows this theme with some consistently intriguing and at times abstract poetry, it's the music accompanying his words that makes Light Show a compelling listen. There's a kinetic rock'n'roll drive to "Do the Shadow" and cheeseball melodrama in the soaring riffs of "New Guitars". When he eases up on the "guitar rock" elements of the record, there are moments where he pairs glowing synths with mutant voices for a haunting effect. And since it's not a high flyer like "New Guitars" or anthemic like "Pure Terror", the buzzing drone of "Puffy Cheek Town" keeps the album's soundscape diverse.
"The shadow" is a pervasive theme in the album—a ctrl-F search of the lyrics sheet brings up 29 matches across six of the album's songs. In this context, especially in the songs where he references dreams, it's tempting to consider the Jungian definition of "shadow"—the unconscious elements of one's personality. On "Do the Shadow", the narrator realizes he was "born a rocker" and embraces his alter ego. "Trans-America", a somber track, features two characters (both voiced by Name) who sing about a hollow, sort of anonymous existence that comes with "painting all my shadows white." It ends with a simple line about conformity and how it can stifle emotions: "You care what they say about me."
This long narrative about status quo, the shadow self, and so on culminates in "Killing a Shadow", which (spoiler) is an unsettlingly quiet track where the main character has his coveted shadow sucked out of his body and replaced with light. It's an ending that serves Name's "there's something wrong with the world" outlook. But it ends the album with a trudging pace. This downbeat final note, along with the album's chaotic array of voices, require for the listener to be fully invested in the record's narrative. Even though it's got some catchy, immediate songs ("Pure Terror", "Do the Shadow"), this isn't incidental music. It's an album that asks for focus and thought. It's the sort of thing where you could spend a substantial amount of time teasing out the symbolism behind these songs. Name might not care if you know who he is or what he calls himself, but he's put a lot of effort into his dystopia. You should consider spending some time there.
