You can see why Jacob Slater decided to abandon his old band The Dead Pretties. With all due respect, it didn’t have the depth or intensity that he brings with Wunderhorse.
There is an authenticity that can only be brought when someone is doing what they really believe in, whether that is currently a la mode is neither here nor there. This is definitely Jacob doing what he wants to do. As anyone who has seen them live will attest.
I once described a live show of theirs as if Bruce Springsteen was fronting The Verve circa 1993, which is certainly true of the most visceral cuts from the record but there is more to the classic rock to certain songs. His Telecaster rings and crackles like those Springsteen albums but Jacob can drop into a Nick Cave like deep register and the end result is a mash up of so much that is familiar but equally undeniably Wunderhorse.
There is certainly an element of the 90’s indie coursing through this, which is never not welcome, unless it is done badly or its Hootie and the Blowfish. This isn’t, and is more akin to someone like Headswim.
Enter ‘Butterflies’, a simmering and brooding opener that you feel could have that big drop into real heavy alt rock but restrains itself in an almost Shoegazey kind of way. You don’t want to blow your load too soon. But then ‘Leader of the Pack’ appears and is firing angular hooks everywhere, like if Bloc Party had the edges smoothed off and the metronome turned down a few notches. This is their moshpit starter.
There must be something about songs called ‘Purple’ that are brilliantly observed and executed. Certain bands like Drug Store Romeos think there is something magic about the colour and it does seem to inspire beauty and exulted song writing.
‘Atlantis’ comes in like the beginning of ‘Good Vibrations’ by The Beach Boys and maybe the surf in his home town Newquay had something to do with this, but it then drops into those familiar chunky Tele barre chords, Jacob in a higher register, with huge soaring chorus to boot.
‘17’ is delayed reverb soaked slacker, almost indecipherable vocals in the verses that, naturally, spirals into a rock opus that has overtones of Jeff Buckley if he had added a bit of overdrive to things. Often on this LP it feels like his guitar is on fire and he’s playing in the flames.
‘Teal’ does begin with a riff that is quite close to the opening of ‘Mr Brightside’ but then slides, literally, into something more understated, with one of the more impassioned vocal performances about an ill friend.
‘Poppy’ is perhaps the best thing on this record, a slow burning minor chord heaving beast as he reminisces about a time long since past that appears in fleeting moments. An elongated coda bypassing every great touchstone along the way sends us home.
‘Morphine’ does what it says on the tin, it calms things down, adds a layer of late night haze. Many songs have been written about opiates and this is up there with them, it’s a blissed out lullaby to oblivion, but also perhaps a subtle warning to her powers.
Strangely, the most fierce and powerful song live, ‘Epilogue’, has lost some of the intensity. On stage, the combined dual guitars and bass make for ear splitting volume and hypnotic whirling and thrashing, but on the LP it seems pared back, restrained. Possibly this wasn’t quite able to be replicated in the studio, as is often the case, but it still manages to crackle like an electricity pylon in the rain.
Whilst Wunderhorse started as a solo project for Jacob he said recently they were very much a band now. On his own he’s a thoroughbred, together, they’re champion.
