Better late than never to the party thrown by Wunderhorse. Their second album, Midas, made up most of their set when opening for Sam Fender. Frankly, their performance nearly overwhelmed the show, a spirited style talked about long after the gig ended. Wanting another shot of their impressive work is easily done and, on those cold winter mornings, warming yourself with the crash and cool style of some industrial, post-punk revival is easily done. Midas offers just that and the band, now scaling the cultural ladder, has a few tricks up their sleeve. The vocal intonation is crucial to the separation of Wunderhorse from the rest of the dreck in the indie-rock genre. This is the key. Midas survives through a slick set of songs that are not content with the lack of ambition heard in the genre.
Jacob Slater leaves no moment unturned here. Midas feels like an endless rock boom, filled with the slick and well-mixed instrumentals expected of a revival sound. But it takes just two minutes to surge through it. Every second counts for Slater and the band. Wunderhorse blurs the practical with the promise of making every beat and lyric an experience. There is no filler here. Respect for themselves and respect for a listener is the reason. Midas into Rain keeps this compact attitude whirring, a necessity when Wunderhorse plays up the crowd with a few tricks, much like the horse which gave them their name. Gene Autry and his influence is nowhere to be found on Midas but the golden touch nod in its title is a confident step for the band, one which is not misplaced. They certainly rise to the occasion, and those threads of punk found in Slater’s musical past are made good on.
Small pockets of Silver lend those punchier, feral tones which are then collated and streamlined for the sake of consistency. Midas is an exceptionally consistent project. All the heartbreak and hopes expected of the genre but overhauled, evolved further than most are managing. Wunderhorse is based on an inherent respect for the listener. You may not find much in their style or sound but there is a consistency, a commitment to keeping their instrumental tones and lyrical perspective, as heard on Superman, to experimental choices. These are in the subtle choices, the slowed-down moments which allow Wunderhorse to break from the maddening stage image of punk rockers with a hot streak. Superman could not be further from it. That extra layer of depth is crucial for whatever is next.
Leave those notes to hang a little too long. Feel for the discomfort brought on by the feedback and distortion. Horror-like experiences for July provide a crucial counter to Superman. A memorable clang, a sincerely devastating bit of guitar work and the crunch of punk foundations come through. Soft grunge tones on Cathedrals give Wunderhorse the extra layer needed to make for a thoroughly entertaining and surprisingly nostalgic album. Anyone brought up on those pop-rock tones of the early 2000s and not, say, The Hoosiers because it was the only artist on your parents’ iPod, are in for a treat. Wunderhorse works those post-punk and indie-oriented, guitar-led works well. Enough variety to keep returning to, and enough consistency to brandish a unique angle in an oversaturated genre. There is room for one more. Midas fills a void few are trying to hold their own in.
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