Released: August 8, 2024
Wunderhorse might have started as a solo vehicle for the former Dead Pretties singer Jacob Slater, but the decision to assemble a live band and hit the road has resulted in a sophomore release that is anything but a retread. Midas is the sound of a band coalescing in front of an audience, a collection of songs steeped in that unmistakable live energy that only comes from months of night-after-night performances.
Recorded at Minnesota’s legendary Pachyderm Studio (where Nirvana cut In Utero), the album-opening title track immediately sets the tone, pairing Slater’s near-shouted vocals with a bare-bones treatment that’s not dissimilar to the Cub standout “Leader of the Pack.” The raw energy carries through to tracks like “Rain” and “Emily,” where the soft/loud arrangements showcase the band’s growing cohesion as a unit.
Midas isn’t all fury and distortion–the album’s true strength is the way it seamlessly shifts between chaos and vulnerability. Songs like the soaring “Rain” and the downright infectious “Arizona” demonstrate Slater’s unyielding commitment to anchoring every riff to a memorable melody. Meanwhile, “Superman” stands out as a stripped-back, emotionally charged ballad that finds Slater embracing a palpable sense of resignation:
My friends and my family
They’d never believe me
They think that they know me
They don’t know me at all
From a sonic standpoint, Craig Silvey’s production successfully captures the band’s live energy. Tracks often end on dragged-out guitar notes, and there’s a looseness here that’s undeniably refreshing. This approach reaches its apex on “July,” a brooding, chaotic centerpiece that feels like it could fall apart at any moment. The song is the very definition of ‘epic,’ and I can’t help but wonder if this would’ve been a better choice to close the album.
A pair of noisy, mid-tempo rockers (“Cathedrals” and “Girl”) set a fitting stage for the nine-minute closer “Aeroplane,” a brooding quasi-ballad that rides a fine line between atmospheric and meandering. While the song lacks the immediacy that dominates the rest of the album, Slater’s understated delivery and a Neil Young-esque solo make for a compelling change of pace and a more than fitting finale.
Brilliant as it might have been, my biggest fear with Wunderhorse’s debut was that it had all the makings of a ‘one-off’ project. Fortunately, Slater had no intention of resting on their creative laurels. I still might prefer the refined, nuanced approach employed on Cub (a record I’ve raved about to anyone who will listen), but Midas is a bold, deliberate step forward nonetheless. In many ways, the album feels like a live companion to Cub. Most importantly, Midas solidifies Wunderhorse as a band unafraid to gnash their teeth and bare their soul. I can’t wait to hear what’s next.
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