With a rollicking guitar sweep, like a walker’s gait, “Civilian,” by Wye Oak shuffled itself into my life on a playlist from a well-meaning ex. A little bit somber, with a hint of twang, Jenn Wasner’s muffled vocals reverberated into me and planted a little seed. The song and the album Civilian didn’t change my life in a burst of fireworks and gravity, but boiled slowly, to ensure that I wouldn’t jump out.
It wasn’t until Wye Oak’s fourth album Shriek that I felt a new voice coming out of me, trying to match Jenn’s, deepening with age. A quick YouTube search of their KEXP set deepened my awe. As Andy Stack mastered the drum kit with one hand and a keyboard with the other, Jenn’s fingers flew over her guitar, bass, and synthesizer with deft precision. As I watched them play, I felt something settle within myself. Here was a woman who could play every instrument, who had an incredible voice and a knack for abstract lyrics, who was beautiful and original and maybe a healthier role model than the manic pixie dream girl I would never be.
I memorized all of Shriek, my vocal cords healing into a voice that was more my own, not as pinched, not as thrown. Their next album Tween, a collection of songs written in between Civilian and Shriek, produced my favorite Wye Oak song, “Better (For Esther)”. The guitar solo is powerful to play on the steering wheel. I can only imagine what it feels like to play the real deal.
Around the release of Tween, Jenn released a solo album under her moniker Flock of Dimes. A fast-paced romp in mixed meter time, it is a true exploration of how far music can be pushed while attaining accessibility. She was discovering the sound Wye Oak has now become eponymous with, bright but melancholy, complicated but catchy.
Their sixth studio album The Louder I Call, the Faster It Runs feels like a true mastery of their evolution, harkening back to their roots occasionally, but covering Jenn’s aching lyrics about loneliness and insecurity with patchwork sparkles. Trading in the muffled twang for bright sine waves, the album bounces along meshing the best of their oeuvre into one excellent album.
When the new Flock of Dimes album was announced earlier this year, it was these sounds that I anticipated. Titled Head of Roses and set to release in the dawn of Spring, I eagerly awaited for more toe-tapping tunes to bloom. With the first single release of “Two,” I was not disappointed. A beautiful song about the struggle for autonomy and connection, Jenn’s lyrics are at the forefront, asking the tough questions and not hiding behind synths. “Can I be one, can we be two?” If anyone learns the answer, I would like to know as well.
“Price of Blue,” the second single from Head of Roses showcases her immense instrumentalism and mastery of effect, delving into a two-minute guitar solo that roils with grit. When played in order on the album, it leads into “Two,” the soft opening notes a slow outtake of breath after a controlled tension.
The third single, “Hard Way,” harkens the stripped electricity of Bon Iver’s “715-CR∑∑KS,” possibly inspired by their tours together. And it is this sound that, after hearing the album in its entirety, I associate it with. Instead of bursting with life after a year in lockdown, Head of Roses tip toes back onto the scene introspective and layered, but still teeming with sentience. Maybe not the album I wanted at first listen, but now the album I know I needed.
A heavy hitter from the back half of the album, “One More Hour,” longs for lost time and second chances, a theme that is heavily resonant as the prospect of a year lost hangs over all of us. “If I could have anything, I’d have one more hour,” she wishes, a foreign thought to many of us who have felt like we’ve had too many hours over the last few months, but maybe for a few of us, the strength we need to take our hours back in this new world that’s about to flower.
Head of Roses is out now via Sub Pop Records.
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