The visual world of Jerkcurb’s new album is made with inherited paint and a touch of magical realism

Jacob, an only child, was born to two artists. His London-born father met his mother, an American studying illustration, while he was studying painting in New York. After spending a number of years living in the US together, the pair moved back to London, where Jacob was later born, as his father’s chronic condition would be better treated with the support of free healthcare. Naturally, as two creatives, Jacob’s parents were always supportive of Jacob becoming an artist, giving him a wide ranging cultural exposure. But it’s not only references and a passion for the arts that Jacob was given by his father; after his death, Jacob inherited his studio, and everything that lay within it.

The studio, a space he now shares with fellow artist and friend Jack Marshall, is where we meet to talk about the new album. Nestled in the back of an old church, it’s packed with paintings, tools, pieces of sets from music videos, mugs repurposed as paint pots, sketchbooks piled high and the odd threadbare chair. It has a comforting, lived-in way about it that makes it feel like the perfect place to hole yourself away and make art. Before he took over the space, Jacob says he’d always been a straightforward illustrator, but being faced with his father’s old tools (he points to a tray brimming with half-used oil paints) he decided to try them out for himself. “I was very fortunate to have them,” Jacob says. “It’s been a very nice way to reconnect.”

Tonal restraint is nothing new for Jacob; his work has always been defined by bold, uncompromising and carefully selected colour palettes. In fact, on whether he’s seen any massive changes to his style from one album to the next, Jacob simply summarises: “I used to be defined by one set of restrictions, and now I just think I’ve got a new set.” Restriction is, for the artist, one of the most important facets of his creative process. “The freedom from choice is almost more creative,” he muses. “We think, what with the internet, that infinite possibilities are super creative, but you just end up in decision paralysis. I get more inspired going to a library and looking at books than looking at the web, which is an infinite abyss.”

Day to day, Jacob practices this offline restriction by taking out a few pens and sketchbook (he never leaves the house without one on his person), and fitting whatever comes to his mind within their A6 pages. Taking me through them, Jacob shows pages of grimacing faces, figures peeing down a drain, as well as an early sketch of a woman staring into a mirror, which later became the Larchmont single cover. “I suppose that’s the main difference,” Jacob says, surveying the sketchbooks in front of him, “my art is quite goofy but my music is quite serious.”

If there’s one thing that’s persisted from one Jerkcurb album to the next, it’s the niggling sense that his creative work is a portal to a world distinct to the ones we spend our lives living in; from the Lynchian sensibilities of the Air Con Eden and Night on Earth videos, to today’s Night of the Hunter inspirations. On his gravitation toward surrealism and magical realism, Jacob seems to put it down to his nature, and the fact he’s lived and worked in south London for his whole life. “I’m not very adventurous, I don’t really like heights, I don’t really travel much,” he lists. “I’m actually just quite a homebody. But I love escapism through media and through art – I like to be taken away as far as possible.” This idea of satisfying a sense of wanderlust through art is echoed in another figure Jacob cites as an influence – the Bolton-born Denis McLoughlin, a pulp artist practising in the 1940s, whose heavily American-inspired comics of cowboys and gauche-heavy book covers belie the fact he never once stepped foot in the country, despite his career-long fascination. A monograph of his work sits in Jacob’s studio, and flicking through the pages, you can see how elements of his style – flat, bold colour combined with deep shadow, and sweeping, hand painted lettering – have been borrowed from and revived in Jacob’s works.

Hearing Jacob speak about his work, influences and processes firsthand, it’s not hard to see how important this escapism has been, and how much solace it’s provided him over such a tumultuous and life-altering six years. It just feels incredibly lucky that he’s created something so beautiful and personal from it for all of us to escape into too. Jerkcurb is a welcome reminder that music is so rarely a solely aural experience, but visual and transportive, something that touches multiple senses to take you out of your immediate reality – even if it’s just for the two minute run of music video, a two hour gig, or the 40-odd minute length of an album. This latest from the multidisciplinary artist makes you want to plug in, open your eyes, and enjoy.