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Wunderhorse thrill on purposely raw second outing ‘Midas’

It may be filled with disillusionment and a raw sense of imperfection, but Midas is rarely anything but perfectly enthralling.

Wunderhorse are a band defined by second chances. After the premature demise of punk outfit Dead Pretties in 2017, Jakob Slater retired from music altogether to work as a surf instructor in Cornwall. Over the years the creative itch would gradually return, rekindling his love as his focus shifted from fury to personal reflection in the form of his Wunderhorse project.


In 2022, the band’s introspective debut Cub arrived as a collection of hazy, sprawling psych-rock numbers and grunge moments. Two years on we have Midas — a purposely raw and no frills follow up that’s more chaotic, vulnerable and gravel-voiced. 


Recorded at Minnesota’s Pachyderm Studio with producer Craig Silvey, ‘Midas’ captures the visceral atmosphere of Wunderhorse’s live performances.

 


This is best encapsulated by ‘July’, a track so uninviting and heavy you have to admire the courage behind its release as the album’s second single.

Throughout, there are echoes of In Utero-era Nirvana (another record cut at Pachyderm) in the distorted guitars and Slater’s self-destructive proclamations. “I’m ready to die,” he cries to end the song.


‘Silver’ has Slater confessing to ugly personality traits, contrasted with an emotive-yet-soothing singalong chorus: “Hush now, baby, don't you cry / I know you're singing deep inside / I broke your wings so you won't fly.” 


Ironically, the main weak point on Midas is the opening title track’s annoying repeatability and sense of ambivalence. That leaves the ensuing ‘Rain’ to fully grab our attention, which it does by coalescing into a surging anthem brimming with paranoia.


Wunderhorse also excel when turning the temperature down. ‘Superman’ keeps the listener on tenterhooks through an intimate build-up of tension, while the nine minute acoustic-led closer ‘Aeroplane’ replaces anxiety with warmth and a sprawling, intricate guitar finale. It may be filled with disillusionment and a raw sense of imperfection, but Midas is rarely anything but perfectly enthralling.

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