New York’s cult electro-rock project Laptop is back after two decades of silence, rebooted by its creator Jesse Hartman — this time with his son Charlie on board. Blending sharp wit, emotional detachment, and biting social commentary, Laptop returns with new singles “Weirder,” “Additional Animals,” and “I Don’t Know”, ahead of the 2026 album On This Planet. Myth of Rock caught up with Hartman to talk about technology, irony, fatherhood, and rediscovering humor in modern alienation.
by Dimitris Zacharopoulos
Where, how and under which circumstances was Laptop founded? Give us a short biography of Laptop.
Laptop started in New York City in the late ’90s, when I realized I could be an entire band with just an IBM ThinkPad and a mix of self-awareness and self-deprecation. I’d just come out of my previous band, Sammy, and wanted to make something weirder, funnier, and more direct about how detached modern life felt. The songs were like little social studies with drum machines. We made three albums, then I sort of retired from music — turned to filmmaking — and raised my son and daughter. Twenty years later, he’s in the band, and she, six years younger, sings on a few tracks. So, it all loops back, like a perfect glitch in the software.
Why did you choose the name “Laptop” for this project?
Because it sounded ridiculous and faux-futuristic in 1998, then wonderfully pathetic as time went on — and now just weirdly perfect, threading the needle through all of it. Laptop is a sort of instrument, a hated object, a loved object, and a drug addiction, all in one word. I literally spend all day on it – for better or worse. What could be a better band name?
How does it feel to bring Laptop back after so many years with the new singles “Weirder,” “Additional Animals,” and “I Don’t Know”?
It feels “pretty pretty good” as Larry David would say. Laptop was always about technology and alienation, so coming back in the age of TikTok feels like stepping into my own prophecy. The world finally caught up to the paranoia. The new recordings are a fun mix of old synthy Laptop, new organic world-music Laptop, with the same humor and new topical explorations in the lyrics.
The song “I Don’t Know” was written years ago with your son when he was only four. What made you decide that now was the right time to release it?
Because now he’s nineteen and can actually perform it with me without getting distracted by Thomas the Tank Engine. This particular song was always funny to me — a kid refusing to answer test questions because he’s already onto way bigger ideas. It fits the theme of the new album: confusion as a form of wisdom and how do we fight this authoritative nonsense? But there are even bigger ideas running through it too — like, what the hell is going on with this planet right now? We need some serious help.
“I Don’t Know” follows “Weirder” and “Additional Animals,” both with big reactions online. What connects these songs musically and thematically?
Simply, these songs are all about these bizarre times we’re living in. “Weirder” was about an alien landing and not understanding or liking what he’s seeing here. “Additional Animals” was about consumption — just throwing our arms up like, what can we do? And “I Don’t Know” is a kid bucking authority in these semi-fascist times. Musically, they share the same DNA: electronics meeting guitars meeting world-weary sarcasm. It feels like a very now record.
How would you define the music style of Laptop?
Emotional detachment but with actual feeling and jokes. Post-Bowie, pre-therapy. Basically, a mix of electro-pop, indie rock, and dark comedy.
Which were your favorite artists/bands while growing up? What do you listen to now?
When I was young, I loved artists who mixed comedy, intelligence and melody — Bowie, Lou Reed, Modern Lovers, Roxy Music, The Kinks. Now I’m checking out younger bands who accidentally sound like these past heroes: Yard Act, Shame, Fontaines D.C. History repeats, and I’m realizing, that’s not always a bad thing.
Where do your lyrics refer to?
They used to be about relationships falling apart. Now they’re about the world falling apart — but always giggling your way through it.
Laptop has always had a satirical side. Do you think irony still works in pop music today?
I hope so. It’s all I know how to do honestly, and I can’t help myself. Too much of what I see out there takes itself too seriously. I think artists need to lighten up and get more complicated at the same time. And maybe listeners will meet them halfway.
How has working with your son Charlie changed your creative process compared to your earlier albums?
Charlie brings a wild, hallucinogenic quality to the songs — they’re literally more dreamlike, more kid-like. He pulls me out of writing revenge songs about the past. I’ve always thought about generational patterns and dual identities (old Laptop songs like “Generation Pattern,” “The New You,” and “Want In?”), and now that’s actually happening. It’s fun and strange collaborating with both your past and your future at the same time.
The upcoming album “On This Planet” arrives in 2026. What can fans expect from it?
Big choruses, strange topical stories, and definitely, no auto-tune on the truth. It’s an album about living now — on this increasingly bizarre planet — and trying to find connection amid the noise.
Your London headliner show is coming up soon. What can people expect from Laptop live in 2025?
Energy, humor, and a few breakdowns — musical and psychological. The new band is big and powerful: two guitars, dual keyboards, sax, some fake drums, some real drums. It’s like a Talking Heads film scored by aliens who loved glam rock.
Looking back at your early Island Records days, what’s changed most about how you approach music now?
Back then we made albums and wondered if the world would listen. Now we make songs and wonder if the algorithm will. I can’t tell which is worse — or better.
How do you feel about the current wave of ’90s and 2000s nostalgia in pop culture? Does it influence your new work in any way?
In the ’90s, we were obsessed with the ’70s — punk, new wave, hard rock — so it makes sense. Now I’m from the generation people are nostalgic about, which is both hilarious and surreal. There’s even a book coming out next year about Sammy and Laptop by Jeff Gomez — what the hell? So yeah, it’s fun to be the older voice in a conversation that’s come back around. And luckily Charlie is along for the ride, with the newer voice.
What do you hope listeners feel when they hear “Weirder”, “Additional Animals” and “I Don’t Know” for the first time?
A mix of laughter and recognition. I hope they laugh, then cry, then dance — just to stave off the fear and confusion of living “On This Planet.”
Many artists today write with social media in mind. Do you ever think about how your songs will resonate online, or do you try to ignore that?
I try not to think about it but it creeps in. I will say this – as a filmmaker I don’t mind how visual music’s become. I always thought each Laptop song was like a little movie. Now I can literally make a movie every few days about these cinematic songs. It’s exhausting but kind of perfect.
If you had the chance to collaborate with a famous musician, whom would you choose? And why?
Maybe Tom Waits. A. He’s still alive (many of my heroes aren’t). B. He taught me how to tell cinematic stories in songs. C. He’s funny as hell. In case you couldn’t tell, I like funny.
After everything Laptop has been through, what keeps you motivated to keep writing, recording, and performing?
I’ve always loved the Ponce de León “Fountain of Youth” story — hence the old Laptop song “Fountain of Youth.” Rebooting Laptop has been that for me. And I get to do it with my son Charlie and a bunch of inspiring twenty-something London musicians. And honestly, I think I’m improving with age. This new album is the best thing I’ve done (isn’t it?).
Describe Laptop with three adjectives!
Deadpan. Cinematic. Ridiculous.
Please send your special message to our readers!
The world might be weird and disturbing for a while — and might even get worse — but we can still share some groovy, funny, mind-bending music together. I think “On This Planet” might actually make you feel better. Or at least help you laugh through the pain.
