Wed. April 15th, 2009: Wavves @ The Echo, Los Angeles
May 23, 2009
Written By: Cleopatra Calypso
If “Wavvves”, the speedily churned out follow-up disc to Wavves’ eponymous debut album (one more “v” equals sequel, get it?), was intended to compound the initial Nathan Williams hype into enough fire power to shoot the dude right into the center of today’s DYI punk statusphere, well, it did. And guess what? Today’s eclipse of no-fi obsession has got little to do with it.
Yeah, sure, all twelve tracks on Wavvves have got enough grime, fuzz, noise and chugged-out/choked-out drums recorded in a typical lo-fi garage tape production style to be rightly classed along the ranks of present fascinations like No Age and Times New Viking and Lovvers (damn those hip kids and their V’s). Yet the noise is not to be solely credited for the wavve of buzz. Of course, all that scathing feedback is undoubtedly a part of why Triple-V is so delectably action packed. But whereas No Age can’t help but to inoculate their punk with ethereal Zen meditative tendencies, and Times New Viking often don’t travel far from their reckless garage punk humor, Wavves is bringing in the punk that is SoCal youth: Harmony! Sun! Girls! Drum kits!
Many have compared Wavves to Sonic Youth, but it’s simpler than that… dude. The noise ain’t to be dissected, ain’t to be carried too far. It isn’t meant to throw you off… just to get you off. Brian Wilson meets Black Flag? Now that’s more of an accurate comparison. Because at the end of the day, I’m not so sure lyrics like “I am a perfect, I am a catch” and “I’m so bored” and “I got nothing, nothing, nothing” and imagery like weed demons, Goths, guns at the beach, and vintage surf photography attempts to win ironic endearment. Instead, the record feels quite clear and genuine on at least these three counts: Nathan Williams is young, he thinks punk is fun, and he’s got very very catchy hooks for miles and miles and miles. Miles!
So it’s not a surprise that Williams, with a drummer in tow, didn’t trick out the Echo stage with tons of gear or any of those neat little distortion mics (in fact, Williams didn’t have tech help setting up the gig; he and his drummer set up sans crew. That’s DYI fer ya). What was surprising, however, was how cleanly Wavves translated into what could be described as an open mic night situation. Gone were the heavy fuzz drag inundating “So Bored”. Gone were the chant-like distortions on the vocals of “Wavves”. Gone was pretty much everything on “Sun Opens My Eyes”. One would have a difficult time imagining Times New Viking ever performing so naked, or No Age putting less effort into seducing their crowd with some jangle tricks up their sleeves. But Wavves never tried to match the fullness of their recorded works. Instead, we heard the songs.
And there it was: garage punk singer songwriter? Oh the delicious soda-pop core of all Wavves ditties. When they started “Summer Goth” with a quiet mouse-like anticipation, only to follow it by a bouncy explosion, they transformed the antsy, almost angst-hued song into a small private bedroom dance party. When they belted out their hit “So Bored” without its signature clang, they didn’t lose a single ounce of its anthemic kick while still highlighting its innocent surf charm. And when Williams’ 22 year old voice crackedwhilst crooning the lyrics to the balladic “Weed Demon” with only the accompaniment of a cymbal clank here and there, we got a pleasant glimpse into a softer side of Wavves that’s been there all along.
And really what is the harm in losing some edge? Because the brave risk bore some astonishing result. Not to amplify its weight, but the show was a bit of a welcome refresher on what it means to be a punk in America: hopeful, celebrational, and simple. And killer. Take that Wipers.
