#wilder maker

The record opens with “Letter of Apology,” in which Birnbaum says sorry of a string of self-destructive actions, depression coming to the fore. The band finds a classic rock groove quickly, utilizing its need to celebrate as everything crashes down. Birnbaum sings, “See us standing on the lip of that sinking ship / Party playlist playing on forever perfect songs.” He wishes to change things – to take it back or at least help organize the lifeboats — but he doesn't know how. In the crisis, just put together some good songs and try not to go under. 

Von Schleicher plays guitar on that track, and she brings lead vocals to several others. The exchange between her voice and Birnbaum's becomes an essential part of the Wilder Maker experience. In “Silver Cars” she tries to escape despair, using vehicular velocity to relieve the pressure, at least temporarily. “No one needs forgiveness for what they want,” she sings, as if in thematic conversation with Birnbaum's opener (even if he needs to apologize for more than desire). On “Against Numbers” she uses basketball as a metaphor for the way we get lost in our performance, reduced to a statistic instead of complex human beings. The music's anxiety comes through clearly, wanting to settle into a Krautrock groove but staying to fidgety to get comfortable. 

The biggest surprise comes with the appearance of Counting Crows' Adam Duritz, who has become a fan of the band and even discussed them on a recent podcast, highlighting Birnbaum's compositional skills. Duritz sings lead on “O Anna,” which may remind listeners of “Anna Begins,” but has no clear connection (unless it is early love turned to bitter regret). Duritz's familiar voice adds to the playlist effect of the album, even if the song fits tonally. Birnbaum himself closes out the album with “Jason,” a slow piano-based track that considers how you can “work so hard to change, but everybody keeps on seeing what they think they know.” The sentiment sounds particularly sharp at the end of an album with intention instability. Birnbaum might draw from Randy Newman here, but he focuses on the disc's opener. On “Letter,” his protagonist didn't know how to fix it. After a course of challenges, frustrations, and struggles, our last guide doesn't know if fixing it is worth it. Yet we move on, searching for a fit that works. We might just be the party band on an existential crisis, but it feels like there's something more going on underneath all of this flux.