This is the Scatman’s world and we are just living in it. Thirty years of Scatman John and, even now, the relatively light and loose fun of Scatman’s World lives on. In those opening moments of Welcome to Scatland, John tells us where to head. It feels idyllic, a tad silly, even, to suggest Eurodance and this voice as a weapon is not a CD but a place of true joy, but Scatman’s World is a dated trip down memory lane. An endearing and ongoing charm lay on Scatman’s World, the electropop fury still as surprising now as it would have been thirty years ago. But therein lies the problem of Scatman’s World, a piece of work thoroughly living or dying on how many Super Mario 64 YouTube shorts you watched as a kid. A firm favourite of Windows Movie Maker users, and as a standalone piece of music, still charming.
Removed from the context of Eurodance and electrified pop of the times, Scatman’s World feels unique because of its eponymous character. A balding, well-moustached man who looks more like a stern lecturer than a walking instrument, is all part of the fascinating sounds found throughout. They are no different to the everyday electronic noise of the times, the hook, line and sinker for any listener depends on how they feel about Scatman John as an artist. He is not doing anything particularly unique other than the worldbuilding heard on Scatman’s World or the posthumous viral nature of his hit, Scatman (Ski-Ba-Bop-Ba-Dop-Bop). Beyond those, there are obvious connotations of love and devotion on Only You, blind positivity infects the rest of the album. His adept lyrical statements are better developed on those songs which are almost forgotten in the wider social conscious. Quiet Desperation holds no secrets, its title is a dead giveaway, but the conviction from Scatman John makes it a real treat.
With heartfelt bits like that, the likes of Scatman (Ski-Ba-Bop-Ba-Dop-Bop) feel more like minutely popular filler than anything. A chance to hear Scatman John blend his vocal stylings, unique as they were, with a not-so-interesting instrumental experience. His poptimism styling is genuine but tiring. If the Scatman can do it, so can you. Yet each song is a variation on this standalone message. His vocal work, the tempo and interjections he can make are wonderfully impressive but feel borderline novel in this Scatman’s World form. Part of that comes from the jazz influences found earlier in John Larkin’s career, and his Scatman John front remains endearing, optimistic, and sounds like a helping hand to the downtrodden. That much is admirable, and it provides a constantly pressing positivity.
Even in its repetition and fairly basic adaptations of electropop, there is much to enjoy about Scatman’s World. Thirty years on from its release and the encouraging demand for universal happiness lasts on. Scatman John thought we were, truly, close to peace and comforting optimism was his route through. What a relic of the past it has become, not because Larkin was wrong, but because we rarely see hope like this in the modern day. It is hard, if not impossible, to hear an artist with the depths of optimism, to continue on with a defiance in the face of hardship. Perhaps that is because it is hard to get much else from an album filled with spots of constant happiness, like Sing Now!, or the relatively dire Popstar. It may be because there are no more heroes as that aforementioned song highlights. Nobody plays the fool, and nobody does the job, because the world is still going around but the hope Scatman John had is lost.
