NEW SOUND MAGAZINE NEWSOUND_VOL_VII_2013 | Page 20

ALBUM
REVIEW

Wild
Nothing
BY K ATA R I N A BA RO N E

W

ild Nothing first started gaining
traction with a cover of
“Cloudbusting” by Kate Bush back in 2009.
Then came the requisite daydream sunshine
song, “Summer Holiday,” a strummy,
Brooklynite rooftop party anthem later
featured on the band’s debut LP, Gemini.
That first record was one of particular and
intentional understatement, populated by
songs like the quiet kids at the back of the
classroom, specimens of shy genius. The
follow-up LP, Nocturne, saw Tatum learning
to raise his hand and speak up. The songs
were just as intelligent as the former album’s
but more confident and demonstrative. Both
records were received with rave reviews.
When Empty Estate opens with crunchy
guitars and oscillating synths, you can tell
Tatum no longer has any time for the quiet
introspection of his first releases. On “The
Body in Rainfall,” the percussion is more
happy and snare-heavy, and so are the rest
of the instruments. That’s not to say this is his
“it might get loud” release because it’s still
punctuated by whispery tones. But these
punctuation marks have gone from run-on
commas to self-aware periods, and here he’s
heading for exclamation points.

the listener to attention. Bands like Wild
Nothing spend some time meandering as
part of their MO, so Tatum knows he needs
at least a couple straightforward tracks to
anchor and bolster the listener’s experience.
But third track “On Guyot” is a little too sure
of itself, a little too confident that “Ocean
Repeating” has us rapt enough to be able
to wander along with his swirling, where-arewe-heading synths with no North Star.
“Ride” is a little too close to Washed Out’s
sound, from synthesizers to vocals, to consider
this a success for Tatum experimenting with
chill wave. “Data World” is where the record
really picks up steam again, the run-along
bass stealing the spotlight. The guitar-synth
interplay here should put you through the
roof. The same goes for “A Dancing Shell,”
whose depressed meanings, “I’m not a
human / I’m just a body/ Just a dancing
shell,” are highlighted by a dance beat all
about defeating the melancholy its lyrics
perpetuate. “Hachiko” does its walkabout a
little better than “On Guyot” but still leaves
you wishing the record could have ended on
a more upbeat, decisive note.

“Ocean Repeating (Big-Eyed Girl)” has
the best qualities of many a second song.
There’s intensified riffing intent on snapping

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