Wild Beasts are very much a Marmite band. Mention of their name either elicits fervent enthusiasm or snorts and hoots of derision. There is, of course, the third response, i.e. “who?”. However, the exposure they’ve received of late, with this album receiving almost universal acclaim, (the BBC described them as ‘perhaps the most inspiring, intriguing band in Britain’) means that those ignorant of the band are reducing in number rapidly.
In this day and age, it helps a band to have a sound that’s a bit different or even unique in order to stand out from the endless sea of identikit indie acts clogging the Internet and the airwaves. There’s no denying the fact that Wild Beasts don’t sound like anyone else. The trouble is, sometimes, there’s a very good reason why no other bands are doing the same thing.
With Wild Beasts, the thing that sets them apart from the pack is Hayden Thorpe: specifically, his vocals. It’s not surprising, either, that they’re the very thing that’s so divisive. As a reviewer, I find myself in a difficult position here. By slating an album everyone’s raving about and I risk looking clueless and out of step. But equally, I stake my reputation on being as objective as possible and providing honest reviews. Sticking one’s head above the parapet is a 50/50 gamble, and equally could be perceived as foolish or brave.
First track, ‘Lion’s Share’ is exemplary of precisely why I find Wild Beasts so difficult to deal with. Musically, it’s an intriguing and atmospheric composition that features a delicate piano motif and beats that are used sparingly, imaginatively and to subtle yet strong effect. But then Hayden warbles all over it and the moment’s rather spoiled. Believe it or not, I write as someone who really rates The Associates, but the difference between them and Wild Beasts lies not so much in the execution but the character that emanates from the songs. With Billy MacKenzie, there was a keen sense of self-awareness regarding the preposterous nature of his operatic vocals. Hayden Thorpe comes across as all too serious in his overly dramatic histrionics and... it’s a love hate thing. I want to listen to hear what happens next. I can barely believe my ears. It irritates me so much that I need more. I feel the same way about their previous albums. Only this time around, the frustration is amplified because the compositions are so compelling in their subtle and nuanced formation: I really do find it hard to find fault.
There’s a mist of melancholy that drifts across the spare, spacious instrumentation that sits well with the rhythmically inventive drumming that dominates ‘Smother’. While many of the tracks may seem rather polite and mannered in their instrumentation and on first listen seem to simply drift, there’s no denying the crafting or composure of the music. But moments of brilliance are so easily and quickly marred: the noodling guitar and restrained washes of synth on ‘Loop the Loop’ require a more commanding focal point than the sing-song vocal melody which sees Thorpe ponder, ‘don’t you ever think people are the strangest things?’. ‘Plaything’ builds a brooding tension around a rhythm that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on New Order’s ‘Movement’, while ‘Reach a Bit Further’ is almost hypnotic in its loping rhythms and looping guitar lines. And yet I can’t surmount that one great obstacle. It’s not so much an elephant in the room as it is like being served a magnificent roast dinner with custard poured all over it instead of gravy.
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The final track, ‘End Come Too Soon’ is, then, rather inappropriately titled. Nevertheless, it shimmers and stretches out into the distance, the guitars restrained over the measured beat, towering over the rest of the album and casting a long shadow over its irritant factors. Yes, it’s stunning.
I find myself still in a quandary. It’s not that I don’t ‘get’ it. It’s certainly not that I haven’t tried or persevered. Having played the album relentlessly for days, I really have. It’s absolutely without a doubt not that I can’t appreciate the album’s superb, smouldering, slow-creeping appeal. I really can: and that’s why it’s all the more frustrating that it’s one of the most irritating albums I’ve heard in an age. So let me put it to you straight. Forget the tide of critical opinion and the band’s recently acquired status as being nigh on untouchable: this is pretentious bollocks of the highest order.
Now, let’s review the critical verdict in another, say, ten years and see how things pan out...
Wild Beasts Online
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