Every so often, one is plagued by the question: How difficult is it, really, to craft a hit? It is a query that arises not from personal ambition, but from observing the mechanics of modern music—specifically, how much credit is due to artists who create tracks that are simply inoffensive enough to exist in the background of our daily lives. In this landscape, there are two paths to a hit: creating something so undeniably brilliant that it demands attention, or producing something so unobtrusive that it becomes the sonic wallpaper of a playlist, a store, or a radio broadcast.
Broadly speaking, the London-based trio Jungle—comprising Josh Lloyd-Watson, Tom McFarland, and Lydia Kitto—finds themselves firmly in the latter camp, and their fifth album, Sunshine, serves as a testament to this creative stasis. The group has clearly discovered a formula that functions reliably, and they appear to have little interest in deviating from it. While the tracks are undeniably pleasant—perfect for background noise during mundane tasks—they rarely rise to the level of compelling art.
The Evolution of the Jungle Sound
Sunshine continues the group’s reliance on familiar collaborators, instrumentation, and thematic ideas. A notable shift, however, is the increased presence of Lydia Kitto. Since officially joining the group in 2023, her role has expanded significantly; she now handles the majority of lead vocal duties, while Lloyd-Watson and McFarland provide harmonic support. This change is a welcome one, as Kitto’s tender, smooth delivery injects a sense of sincerity into the material, even when the lyrics themselves feel somewhat hollow. The lead single, “Carry On,” highlights this vocal chemistry, showcasing a synchronicity that recalls the Bee Gees and adds a necessary layer of color to the record.
A Lack of Variation
Despite these vocal refinements, the album suffers from a pervasive sense of uniformity. The latter half of the record shows flashes of potential; “Natural” stands out as a sleek, neo-soul track that hints at what the group might achieve if they ventured further from their established path. Similarly, the closing track, “Heavy on my Soul,” utilizes a minimalist approach—anchored by a pitched-down classical guitar and a lush string arrangement—that feels more deliberate than much of the preceding material.
However, these moments of depth are the exception rather than the rule. The group’s pivot toward a more relaxed, “lo-fi” aesthetic has stripped away the dancier, more energetic elements that defined their earlier work. Without that kinetic energy, the limitations of their songwriting become more apparent. Tracks like the title song, “Sunshine,” and “Move Like You Do” feel like collections of familiar Jungle tropes—repetitive vocal phrases, walking basslines, and chopped samples—that fail to evolve or build toward a meaningful climax.
Ultimately, Sunshine leaves the listener with the frustrating sense that a more adventurous record is buried somewhere beneath the surface. While Jungle has proven their capability for greatness in the past, this latest effort suggests a comfort with the middle of the road that leaves the listener wanting more.
