In all the grimy gloom of a pandemic, we need Superchunk to drop by and blast it all away with a wondrously upbeat and slyly optimistic record that shows off their spirited sophistication, as one of the best pop-rock bands (still) going. Augmented with horns, including Kelly Pratt on trumpet and Wye Oak's Andy Stack on saxophone, and strings helmed by Owen Pallett, Wild Loneliness wars against despair, armed to the teeth with infectious sweetness.
With songs written before and during the pandemic, Wild Loneliness bears the distinction of being eerily prescient and emotionally reactive to whatever raw uncertainty all of us were enduring on many — if not most — days between 2020 and now. The tension of "City of the Dead," which feels borne of our various pandemic-induced pauses, lies in its sense that there is something looming from the second it begins and then continues to build, as Mac McCaughan phrases his vocals haltingly, leaving us hanging after each thoughtful stanza, and singing of a haunted normalcy most of us are still negotiating each day.
"Endless Summer" might be of the same time and crisis, but it's not. Here, the band take on climate change with one of the most artful pop anthems in a Superchunk catalogue that already contains several storage units full of such things. Backed up by Teenage Fanclub's Norman Blake and Raymond McGinley on vocals, this song's legitimately and viscerally refreshing; it's so propulsive a call to action, it generates true hope that something can be done about global warming and ecological collapse — and it's only a catchy-ass song, really.
There are occasions on tracks like, say, "Highly Suspect," where the horns blare and Jon Wurster adds a hiccup to his kick pattern, that find Superchunk at their most fearless. Familiar textural flourishes and a blend of distortion and acoustic guitars will certainly soothe old faithfuls, but there are some surprises too, like McCaughan's gorgeous vocal turn on "Set It Aside" — his vocal command has never sounded so rich. His sense of purpose and reassurance on "On the Floor," a huge pop song featuring the sturdy lock-step of bassist Laura Ballance and rhythm guitarist Jim Wilbur, plus back-up vocals by Mike Mills of R.E.M., gives McCaughan the air of a coach rallying his team at halftime, and it's enough to make you think that against all odds, we're all gonna win this thing.
When "This Night," accompanied by Pallett's strings, comes crashing forth, it feels like the kind of sound Bruce Springsteen has been chasing on his most recent contemporary E Street Band records. More than anything else, Wild Loneliness recalls Springsteen's post 9/11 return, The Rising, in that the vibe suggests an intermingling of songs conceived before and after something monumental and life-changing occurred, and yet the ideas co-exist in a landscape where the temporal confusion doesn't preclude the sharing of strange experiences.
The world was hard and shitty before the pandemic and then it got still, and we had time to think about what we were all doing to each other. Some of that reflection brought us together; a lot of it tore us apart. There are moments on Superchunk's inspired and inspiring Wild Loneliness where ideas of isolation and connection are pondered and addressed but any despondency is met with righteous hope and a roaring conviction that all is not lost, and goddamn do we need records like these right now.
(Merge Records)With songs written before and during the pandemic, Wild Loneliness bears the distinction of being eerily prescient and emotionally reactive to whatever raw uncertainty all of us were enduring on many — if not most — days between 2020 and now. The tension of "City of the Dead," which feels borne of our various pandemic-induced pauses, lies in its sense that there is something looming from the second it begins and then continues to build, as Mac McCaughan phrases his vocals haltingly, leaving us hanging after each thoughtful stanza, and singing of a haunted normalcy most of us are still negotiating each day.
"Endless Summer" might be of the same time and crisis, but it's not. Here, the band take on climate change with one of the most artful pop anthems in a Superchunk catalogue that already contains several storage units full of such things. Backed up by Teenage Fanclub's Norman Blake and Raymond McGinley on vocals, this song's legitimately and viscerally refreshing; it's so propulsive a call to action, it generates true hope that something can be done about global warming and ecological collapse — and it's only a catchy-ass song, really.
There are occasions on tracks like, say, "Highly Suspect," where the horns blare and Jon Wurster adds a hiccup to his kick pattern, that find Superchunk at their most fearless. Familiar textural flourishes and a blend of distortion and acoustic guitars will certainly soothe old faithfuls, but there are some surprises too, like McCaughan's gorgeous vocal turn on "Set It Aside" — his vocal command has never sounded so rich. His sense of purpose and reassurance on "On the Floor," a huge pop song featuring the sturdy lock-step of bassist Laura Ballance and rhythm guitarist Jim Wilbur, plus back-up vocals by Mike Mills of R.E.M., gives McCaughan the air of a coach rallying his team at halftime, and it's enough to make you think that against all odds, we're all gonna win this thing.
When "This Night," accompanied by Pallett's strings, comes crashing forth, it feels like the kind of sound Bruce Springsteen has been chasing on his most recent contemporary E Street Band records. More than anything else, Wild Loneliness recalls Springsteen's post 9/11 return, The Rising, in that the vibe suggests an intermingling of songs conceived before and after something monumental and life-changing occurred, and yet the ideas co-exist in a landscape where the temporal confusion doesn't preclude the sharing of strange experiences.
The world was hard and shitty before the pandemic and then it got still, and we had time to think about what we were all doing to each other. Some of that reflection brought us together; a lot of it tore us apart. There are moments on Superchunk's inspired and inspiring Wild Loneliness where ideas of isolation and connection are pondered and addressed but any despondency is met with righteous hope and a roaring conviction that all is not lost, and goddamn do we need records like these right now.
