Jun. 09, 2010 - Issue #764: Hot Summer Guide 2010
Gemini
/ Supplied
Wild Nothing {recordings_bands_mg} Gemini {/recordings_bands_mg}
Captured Tracks, 2010
4
On album opener "Live in Dreams," Wild Nothing's creative force Jack Tatum almost coos the chorus, "Our lips won't last forever / And that's exactly why / I'd rather live in dreams / And I'd rather die." As encapsulations of an album's mood goes, that's pretty much perfect: a little bit of downtrodden romance, a little bit of introspective solipsism, a little bit of mopey '80s melodrama sung in plain and plaintive, but poppily sweet, melodies.Speaking of the '80s—Wild Nothing had its breakthrough with an incredibly on-the-mark cover of Kate Bush's "Cloudbusting"—Tatum wears his influences very firmly on his sleeve, and this is obviously a man who has combed the back catalogues of just about any Brit-pop label that was giving studio time to sad-eyed loners who escaped into long walks with headphones on during the Thatcher era. Tatum's fully ingested everything from the jangly guitar hooks and washed-out synths to the spacious arrangements and the airy melancholia of his heroes and pours it out into glistening modern sweat and tears.
There's always a bit of danger with revivalism, but any doubts about this being a Crocodiles-ish, nostalgia-only act of recreation are dashed by the second song, the stunning "Summer Holiday." It has that magical mix of feeling like it might be some dusted-off gem found at the back of a record store without actually getting mired in its roots; reverby guitar lines mix up with vaporous sighs and eventually a from-the-hills, ethereal "ooooo" while Tatum sings about some perfect summer fling in a voice whose appreciation is tinged with just enough distance to suggest that summer always ends (and lines like "You've got some charm I must admit / Don't let me wreck myself again" suggest this is no normal summer).
For an album of delicately pretty pop, there is an awful lot of downer sentiment—"Boys don't cry / They just want to die," Tatum sighs out at the beginning of "Pessimist," and then there's the heartbroken confliction of the title track, kind of an ode to a love that's slipped away—but it's balanced as much by the music as Tatum's couched sentiments, which do have a distinct scent of well-this-is-life-but-it's-what-we-got resolution. "Bored Games" is downright sweet, old-fashioned drum machines and lazy guitars filling out the sound behind lines like "Where are you going? / Can I come with you? / I just don't feel right, when you're not here" and even the mournful wails of "Confirmation" hides lines like "Fuck being perfect," sung in an airy but affirmed falsetto.
The end is a downright dreamy, bittersweet little album, perfect for, say, wandering through the drizzle on a June evening, or maybe just thinking about that girl with a shelf full of brit-pop records with whom you spent a summer—whether it's happened or not. V vueweekly.com comments: powered by Disqus
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