By Tim Ubels (Contributor) – Email
Print Edition: March 27, 2013
Frequent line-up changes tend to signal to the listener that an artist’s sound is in the midst of changing. Maybe it’s because the artist felt too comfortable in the genre they inhabited, maybe they grew bored of their own music, or maybe it’s because the hype and pressure that surrounded their work resulted in a near breakdown for the artist.
Nathan Williams, the once one-man proprietor of Wavves, could never have lived up to the publicity drummed up seemingly overnight prior to the release of his skuzzy sophomore release Wavvves back in 2009. It was a simple and heartfelt record about demons, pot and early-20s boredom, but listeners saw much more in the 22-year-old Californian.
Williams was a slacker at heart, an anti-hero in a trucker cap who had created a record from his parent’s bedroom with the smallest of intentions. But the hype his second album received had audiences viewing him as their knight in shining armour.
Unfortunately he wasn’t able to handle the intense scrutiny this kind of fame undoubtedly brings, and this Cinderella story quickly turned into a shitstorm of self-destructive tendencies during his first major tour. His interviews became unintelligible, and his shows became a set of onstage fistfights, because this “rebel” had nothing to rebel against but himself.
Four years later, two new members and a hip-hop side-project with his brother under his belt, Williams’ conduct and maturity have finally caught up to his success. This newfound self-confidence is at the forefront on his new release Afraid of Heights, where the indie-rock poster boy successfully molds grunge-infused melodies with Weezer-esque powerhouse choruses, all culminating into his signature snotty, noise-pop atmosphere.
According to an interview with Williams in SPIN, the band spent “an entire year in the studio,” and Williams says he was “listening to [Weezer’s] ‘Blue Album’ every day, almost on repeat.” The effect of listening to Weezer’s classic “Blue Album” is readily apparent, as guitar-driven production are found all over the record, particularly on the catchy second track “Demon to Lean On.”
Containing a subtle acoustic intro that bursts into massive guitars alongside Williams’ gritty croon, “Demon to Lean On” draws many parallels to Weezer’s “My Name is Jonas.” “Jonas,” a game-changing track that informed an indie scene used to Kurt Cobain’s screeching vocals that melodic harmonies and Beatles-schooled pop blueprints were also acceptable, opened the floodgates for similarly riveting, but more grounded punk rock in the mainstream.
Another standout track on Afraid of Heights is its self-titled track, which sees a cameo by Rilo Kiley frontwoman Jenny Lewis, backing up Williams on vocal duties. “Afraid of Heights,” which sounds like a mixture of mid ‘90s staples Weezer and Green Day, has Williams repeating: “I’ll always be on my own / Fucked and alone,” with Lewis adding the complementary “woos” and “oos” in the background to bring a little innocence to the song. While Williams’ exclamation may sound like it came from the mouth of a 16-year-old kid in need of counselling, it fits right in with the rest of the album’s angst-driven subject matter.
Themes of apprehension, mortality and hopelessness abound on Afraid of Heights, which only helps to further the comparisons to a time when similar topics were being written by Kurt Cobain and Billy Joel Armstrong.
Amid lively and energetic arrangements by Wavves, Williams had cleaned up his songwriting abilities and sings throughout the record about battling his innermost demons. He exclaims in despair: “We’ll all die alone” (“Sail to the Sun”) “Soon it’s over / You’ll regret your whole life” (“That’s On Me”) “None of you will ever understand me” (“Lunge Forward”).
There’s a lot going on underneath those huge walls of distorted guitars, and it’s not just an aspect of production. This is the first Wavves record where Williams really puts his feelings out there in a nuanced way, making himself extremely vulnerable. This exposed self is summarized in the chorus of the album’s final track “I Can’t Dream,” which contain the lines: “I can finally sleep, but I can’t dream.” Williams, the appointed poster boy of indie-rock fans, seems to have grown up and has found peace amidst these unforeseen anxieties of a loner being accepted by the mainstream.
