Weekly Release Spotlight: Wye Oak
Posted on 3/06/2011
Wye Oak
Civilian
[Merge]
Civilian
[Merge]
It is both appalling and understandable how underrated the Baltimore duo Wye Oak has been since their first release in 2007. There is no denying the quality of their output, capped with last year's pristine, almost-breakthrough EP, My Creator/ My Neighbor, which ranks among the best releases of 2010. But with a sound that can best be described as patient and mildly experimental, it is unsurprising that they have not galvanized general excitement from blogs and the alternative public in general. I mean, they are named after an old tree.
It's almost as if they've fast tracked to the point in their career in which they are spoken of with backhanded compliments like "consistent" or, God forbid, "dad rock". So their new album, Civilian, is potentially dangerous territory. It would be upsetting to see them abandon their unique and true sound entirely for something more initially ear catching. It would also be a disappointment to see them retreat to the safer corners of their aesthetic. It is a treacherous middle ground, but Wye Oak has reached it with this latest release, and in doing so has made what is possibly the best album of the year so far.
Album opener "Two Small Deaths" begins with the sounds of a crowded room while a cinematic synth drone builds. It dissolves quickly around the 40 second mark, but sounds like a statement anyway. The less organic sounds that they slipped in at the end of the folk-rock opener of their last EP are now front and center. The song that ensues is straightforward enough: solemn electric guitar pulses behind minor harmonies and piano occasionally flutters in the background. But there is an experimental air about it. The impart the sense that there is more happening here than meets the ear.
That feeling sticks with the album all the way through. After "Two Small Deaths" comes "The Alter," where the synth changes from a drone to a stutter. Electric guitar lines bend a little out of tune on "Dogs Eyes" and "Fish," sounding like The Moon & Antarctica-era Modest Mouse.
This is all clinical speak though. What really makes these songs work is a bittersweet emotionality and reality in Jenn Wasner's words and voice. The album closer reduces the sound to just her and the soft electric guitar that is found on every track. At first, it may sound like they've retreated to the aforementioned "safer" sound. But recalling the mastery of a more complex sound they've already shown on the nine tracks prior, it's clear that this is not the case. In it, she sings, "I had lied to you if I believed it was right to do." On Civilian, the emotions always match the sounds, and both are real, earned, and beautiful.
It's almost as if they've fast tracked to the point in their career in which they are spoken of with backhanded compliments like "consistent" or, God forbid, "dad rock". So their new album, Civilian, is potentially dangerous territory. It would be upsetting to see them abandon their unique and true sound entirely for something more initially ear catching. It would also be a disappointment to see them retreat to the safer corners of their aesthetic. It is a treacherous middle ground, but Wye Oak has reached it with this latest release, and in doing so has made what is possibly the best album of the year so far.
Album opener "Two Small Deaths" begins with the sounds of a crowded room while a cinematic synth drone builds. It dissolves quickly around the 40 second mark, but sounds like a statement anyway. The less organic sounds that they slipped in at the end of the folk-rock opener of their last EP are now front and center. The song that ensues is straightforward enough: solemn electric guitar pulses behind minor harmonies and piano occasionally flutters in the background. But there is an experimental air about it. The impart the sense that there is more happening here than meets the ear.
That feeling sticks with the album all the way through. After "Two Small Deaths" comes "The Alter," where the synth changes from a drone to a stutter. Electric guitar lines bend a little out of tune on "Dogs Eyes" and "Fish," sounding like The Moon & Antarctica-era Modest Mouse.
This is all clinical speak though. What really makes these songs work is a bittersweet emotionality and reality in Jenn Wasner's words and voice. The album closer reduces the sound to just her and the soft electric guitar that is found on every track. At first, it may sound like they've retreated to the aforementioned "safer" sound. But recalling the mastery of a more complex sound they've already shown on the nine tracks prior, it's clear that this is not the case. In it, she sings, "I had lied to you if I believed it was right to do." On Civilian, the emotions always match the sounds, and both are real, earned, and beautiful.
Stream: Wye Oak - "Civilian"