Too many artists are reliant on their memories as a source of escapism. Yes, times were better when you were younger. A time when there was less responsibility in your life is always going to feel like a better period than now, when bills and commitments are at play. But Whomp Whack Thunder doesn’t have that perverse nostalgia to it. Whiskey Myers may use the imagery of freedom, running through rainy streets with no care in the world, but he uses it in the same way a fisherman uses bait. Hook a listener with a potentially comforting piece and reel them in with a harsh look at life, which by extension, is a questioning of theirs. It’s the opposite of the projection pop musicians are playing with now. Their broad strokes and relatability are an acceptance of the world around us. Anyone accepting the state of things presently are the same people who need the shock awakening of Whomp Whack Thunder.
Energetic rock stylings are the bread and butter of Whomp Whack Thunder, an album all about the rise and fall. What it relates to is not up to a listener. Frontman Cody Cannon makes it clear these peaks and troughs are all part of life, and while none of it is going to set your heart on fire, there is enough within to consider change and contemplation. Country music is in a spot where dirge-like tones and cliché acts of drinking, driving, and denouncing all wrongdoing are staples. It’s lazy writing and sets the genre back because of its ingenuine it sounds. Not Whomp Whack Thunder, though. Countrified rock music with a tinge of honesty to it. Again, the writing is far from overwhelmingly strong, but it’s enough to get by. What thrives is their rock and roll tone. Fundamentals of the genre are at play here. Do those well, and there’s enough reason to listen, but not return.
Crucial to all that, to songs like Tailspin and Icarus, is creating narratives which move away from projection and onto escapism. Whomp Whack Thunder has a strength to it that country music hasn’t heard in a long while. Slick instrumental work here and there is absent of reason, played out for the sake of filling time, but at least it’s delivered honestly. Honesty does not need a reason; it’s just an act followed by Whiskey Myers, and it sticks. Nothing ever strikes as a masterclass of country or rock, but in its serviceable state, Whomp Whack Thunder becomes a likeable, energetic beast of an album. Familiar sounds in the form of Cage the Elephant and King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard-like deliveries and instrumental beats, that much does the heavy lifting.
Fitting songs like Break These Chains do not assess the hopes of the title but do, at the very least, maintain an honest tone. Those slide guitar features on Born to Do are not insincere, just somewhat plain in their use. Such is the point of Whomp Whack Thunder, an album which paints with broad strokes and hopes the picture it creates is, at the very least, relatable. Predictable spots on songs like Rock ‘n’ Roll and Ramblin’ Jones can be judged not just on the plain lyrics or simple genre subversions, but on title alone, too. Judge a song by its title, as they say. Whomp Whack Thunder has enough goodwill running through it to make for an enjoyable listen, but it lacks the killing blow so few in country rock are now capable of delivering.
