By: Martyn Coppack
Wild Nothing | bandcamp |
Wild Nothing, or in reality Jack Tatum, is one of those artists whose music takes a long while to settle in. Both musically and lyrically, there is a denseness to proceedings belied by the chipper nature in which the songs float by. They almost sound simple yet under the surface is a bubbling cauldron of emotions that you can never quite get a grasp on. As such, it runs the risk of becoming a muso’s album which does it some disservice as what we actually have is a remarkable piece of pop music hidden beneath layers of American indie rock.
The US has a habit of throwing up bands like these and dependent on their own musical upbringing, they can range from blues influenced rock to esoteric dream pop channelled straight from the 1980’s. Wild Nothing falls firmly in the second category with his shimmering music produced to the point where you can never quite work out what instrument is being played. The end result is one of a clinical nature, yet surprisingly instilled with a sense of warmth like when the music breaks down halfway through ‘Lady Blue’ to create an ambient atmosphere before thrusting itself straight back on to the dance-floor. It’s the strut of life through a different lens and best served from a certain frame of mind.
Life Of Pause is very disjointed at first and as great as opener ‘Reichpop’ is, the following two tracks sound as if they are just added on without thought to flow and although there is nothing wrong with the songs, it serves to lead you to a sense of confusion. It’s not until ‘Japanese Alice’ with it’s wonderfully uplifting chorus that you can settle into proceedings a bit better. It’s a great moment and perks up interest just as the right time, the lead into the title track ‘Life Of Pause’ leading you over the edge.
Wild Nothing’s major problem is is ultimate cleverness and each song has a knowing slant that indicates it is better not just than other songs but better than you. It’s an aloofness which is a necessity of indie rock for it to work (that is indie rock in it’s true original sense, not the mainstream adoption post 90’s) and for a time when the artists needs the fan more than anything it seems like a strange thing to do. Of course, this is only an instinct gained and in reality Tatum is only doing what he knows best and that is making layered pop songs of the highest order.
Maybe Tatum sums it up perfectly on his own song ‘Alien’ which exudes a cold calm covered in shimmering synths. The guitar makes a return to the forefront and it becomes one of the more human songs here as the battle between the clinical and the warmth loses as the songs drifts more and more into dream pop territory.
From now on a new-found confidence arises out of Tatum’s song-writing with ‘To Know You’ really soaring away into regions hitherto not investigated. Coasting a wave of pure dreamlike pop, the album becomes a solid mass of cohesion which was lacking in the first half and completely turns Life Of Pause on its head. Almost as if a switch has been flicked, a light seems to come on musically and Tatum’s once wordy lyrics become much more elegiac as he stretches out.
‘TV Queen’ is the most American sounding song here with it’s driving bass linking into that ever searching drive down the highways of life. It’s a moment with sounds out of place yet allows Tatum to relax a bit before the more fussy ‘Whenever I’ which incorporates a dreaded 80’s sax sound without actually sounded that bad. It’s akin to Scritti Politti which may be a good or bad thing dependent on your point of view but at least here there are no aspersions to genius, simply a guy enjoying himself.
Finally ‘Love Underneath The Thumb’ manages to distil the entire essence of the album in it’s six or so minutes and still have some spare. It’s a thrilling coup-de-grace and leaves you bereft and forlorn as Tatum’s swiriling emotions pick you up, drop you then pick you up again. It’s a perfect end to a rollercoaster album of emotions which leads from the clinically cold to the beating human heart of love. They used to make music like this in the 80’s but they certainly don’t now. At least they didn’t until Wild Nothing showed up. It’s an album best served in multiple sittings with maybe a glass of two but once you have succumbed you may find it difficult to leave.
