You always know what you’re getting with The Wombats. An unwavering selection of indie-pop ballads, bangers and bops – their artistry may be formulaic, but when it clicks (and it does on most occasions) it leads to fantastic audial results.
The triumvirate of ‘If You Ever Leave, I’m Coming with You’, ‘Ready for the High’ and ‘Method to the Madness’ are as strong as any Roman one. The former is a short-yet-sweet pop ballad that rejects splitting up (in a slightly stalkerish manner, mind); there’s a blend of uplifting synths, persistent acoustic guitar and interplay between lead and backing vocals that results in an infectious, progressive track.
The opening 30 seconds of the middle track seem to echo their pop-punk roots before it delightfully slows down towards the contemplative chorus. This oscillation between frantic and smooth provides the cut with real energy, and that’s before the treat of brass arrives after the second chorus. You can imagine a summer-festival-hands-in-the-air moment, before returning into a mosh.
The last of the three, meanwhile, retreats into a more melancholic acoustic dream-pop; ‘Method to the Madness’ has a real saunter towards it in the opening two minutes, before the atmosphere changes in the middle. There’s a lengthy, tense build-up towards an exciting drop. Yet, The Wombats subvert the accepted model, with no headbanging chorus the result but rather a more industrialised version of the build-up. Murphy ascends an octave and guitars become much more active before distortion somewhat belatedly arrives right at the end. All in all, these three songs make an excellent eleven minutes of music.
That said, there are always going to be some duds as well. After the sonic high of ‘Flip Me Upside Down’ representing a strong start to the record arrives the flat ‘This Car Drives All By Itself’, a song as forgettable as its title is long-winded. There’s nothing keeping me gripped at all. Matt Murphy’s vocals seem (ironically) pedestrian, and the repetition is just numbing. A bit of a car crash, this one.
A similar case occurs with (takes a deep breath) ‘People Don’t Change People, Time Does’. Again, it’s the pedestrian vocal style here which puts a lot of focus on the lyrics. The problem is, then, when the lyrics are so basic; this is compounded by the intonation of the title as the climax of the chorus, where it’s difficult to decipher how the six words work in a phrase. There are twelve songs on this record, so perhaps the track listing could have been cut down a bit further – because, beyond these two, it’s a very strong record.
Towards the end of the record (where song titles are reduced in length by about 50-75%), there is a return to form. ‘Wildfire’ is a fun, inviting boogie driven by a bouncing bass riff. “She is wildfire” is a great, simple singalong chorus. The trio even descends into a deep house B-section before a return to the final chorus which masterfully mixes verse and chorus structure. ‘Don’t Poke the Bear’ has a crunchy, distorted bass line, though the Merseysiders veer from going anywhere near ‘heavy’ until the final eight seconds of the track (when suddenly they perform their best Muse impression).
This distortion provides some edge to a track lyrically referencing setting and abiding by boundaries, with Murphy providing yet another great animal-based metaphor to everyday life. In the penultimate track, ‘Worry’, the band riff off with two vocal melodies, which are interplayed with lengthy verses ruminating on anxiety and paranoia. Musically, the band mix their electric guitars and penchant for synths to perfection whilst introducing a few intriguing vox-pops. The album then ends the title track, half a synthetic daydream and half a call for having personal self-belief.
Overall, then, this is yet another strong record from the Liverpudlian trio. It won’t shock anyone, but similarly, it won’t disappoint fans of their dependable, soulful indie-pop away in the slightest. It’s par for the course for The Wombats.
Words by Matthew Prudham
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