Pitchfork

In Jesus of Cool's iconic cover image, Nick Lowe appears decked out in a smorgasbord of over-the-top rockstar getups. These images are perfectly considered, down to the facial hair stylings and thematically appropriate guitars-- but Lowe comes off goofy and unconvincing in every guise. The cover images are apt not for their evocation of "cool," but rather for their combination of impeccable artifice and raw, gawkish charm. Indeed, Jesus of Cool sounds more like the work of a crafty fan than that of a self-serious auteur.

Thankfully, Lowe's fandom was quite broad; Jesus of Cool is equal parts shimmering disco and dingy pub, with frequent surprisingly coherent stylistic asides. That this record came out in 1978 is nothing short of a small miracle; while punk rock and disco were battling it out in an all-too-familiar dialogue of authenticity and reactionism, Lowe cut the crap and made a clever, fierce, and far-reaching record. Chalk it up, perhaps, to the degree and nature of Lowe's experience; by the time he set about recording Jesus of Cool, Lowe was already a veteran of the decidedly more populist pub rock scene.

Though Jesus of Cool is technically his debut, Lowe was already the elder statesman and in-house producer for the fledgling Stiff Label, positioning himself as the clever and detached pop craftsman to protégé Elvis Costello's angsty, spittle-flecked firebrand. Fans of Costello's early records, or those of the Damned, will find the sonics of Jesus of Cool immediately familiar. Recorded largely on borrowed studio time at a variety of locations, Jesus of Cool covers a lot of ground fidelity-wise, but is aptly produced throughout. The album's more polished cuts are studio-immaculate, and its rockers are gritty and packed full of energy, demonstrating the production style that earned Lowe the nickname "Basher".

Lowe certainly knew well enough to avoid trying to make a straight-up pandering pop record, and his experience in the record business is written all over Jesus of Cool, in the words of songs like "Music for Money" and "Shake and Pop", and in the album's overall feel and conceit. These flip-offs at the record industry underscore the album's unerring ease and strength. Perhaps Lowe's deep familiarity with the ins and outs of the business cured him of the something-to-prove overzealousness that kills many records this ambitious. Indeed, Jesus of Cool comes across with little to no agenda; it draws from a wide and diverse pool of influences, but never in a way that seems showy or forced.

Backed by an all-star cast of friends and contemporaries, many of whom shared time with Lowe in pub rock legends Brinsley Schwarz, Lowe tries on many different vocal personas on Jesus, cooing the ballad "Tonight" and barking the new wave stomper "Music for Money". Early singles "So It Goes" and "I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass" are highlights, remarkable for both their strength and for their disparity. "So It Goes" is driving, chiming melodic rock, while "I Love the Sound of Breaking Glass" is piano-tickled disco-pop. The diversity of Jesus of Cool helps keep even its weaker tracks sounding unique and interesting; the slightly reggae-toned "No Reason" and dark, synthesized "36 Inches High" would be distracting detours on a more myopic record, but make perfect sense in this context.

Jesus of Cool has been sadly out of print for years, and Yep Roc's reissue is impeccable. The complex digipak fold-out is beautiful, and Will Birch's liner notes do a great job of explaining the record's origins without falling into hyperbole. The bonus tracks here are generally quite good as well, not surprising considering the singles-y feel of the album itself. "Rollers Show" and "They Called It Rock" (a reworking of "Shake and Pop" that lacks the album cut's gritty force) were both included on the U.S. release of Jesus of Cool (retitled Pure Pop for Now People for more sensitive U.S. audiences), and their inclusion here is welcome. Other highlights include an early version of Lowe's sole U.S. hit "Cruel to be Kind", the hilarious "I Love My Label", and a cover of Martha Sharp's "Born a Woman" from 1977's The Bowi EP.

As guitar pop music comes back into fashion among indie rockers, more and more albums are sounding like awkward and self-aware approximations of the very thing that Jesus of Cool does so effortlessly. In a sense, Lowe's unpretentious inclusiveness may have stopped Jesus of Cool just short of becoming a huge record in any one world; the album is far too unabashedly admiring of pop music to be seen as a punk rock classic, but too gritty and ramshackle to be considered a seminal new wave pop record. Thankfully, Jesus of Cool is a rarer thing still: a timeless and bullshit-free masterpiece.