Why does nobody reference Jamiroquai?

As I was trying to describe new group Juce today, a phrase sprung to mind that I’ve previously denied myself mentioning in public for fear of ridicule, discrimination and possible egging. That phrase, I can now reveal, is “it sounds a bit like Jamiroquai”.

In 2014, it feels as if almost every other genre of music from the 90s is basking in a rose tinted revival: whether it be the recent reformation of Slowdive, pop’s Big Reunion continuing to drudge out more anaemic looking and insecure figures of fun for their tour or the Britpop revival churning out chintzy indie in form of Superfood. Only yesterday, rapper Iggy Azealea decided to pay homage to the 90s with her single Fancy, copy-catting cult teen movie Clueless for the video.

So what did happen to Jamiroquai? It’s the question on nobody’s lips except mine and maybe Denise Van Outen’s occasionally, when she’s in a wistful mood, wearing a hat and driving fast down a country lane. He’s still out there making money of course – his last gig appearing to be at Sandance in Dubai in November - but as a reference point, the music of Jamiroquai is still something of a profanity. It’s as if the continual regurgitation of smug funk and his unrelenting use of the didgeridoo will forever tarnish the astral grooves we once helped to get to No 1.

Despite Pharrell Williams declaring in a recent BBC interview “I can’t give this away but I’m a huge fan of Jamiroquai” it seems unlikely Jay Kay will ever be an acceptable name to drop. I think I realised this even as a child. The Return Of The Spacecowboy was one of the first albums I owned, but I remember listening to it very quietly in my bedroom and enjoying it only when alone. Even back then, at the age of 10, I was slightly wary of someone catching me vibing out to Didjerama.