The Joy Formidable - Wolf's Law

The TV quiz show Pointless had a long spell of offering the specialist round of 'Welsh Bands', which, quite rightly, thanks to the likes of the Stereophonics and the largely insufferable arseholes Manic Street Preachers (granted, they have good music, but Nicky Wire is Music Prick #1), went avoided for a long time. Although Super Furry Animals, Feeder and the occasional Catatonia pop song have done a little to reestablish Welsh rock music's image, it's only really gone to shit again thanks to that Lostprophets paedo bloke. In 2011, however, the Joy Formidable stepped forward and gave their home country a band both listenable and interesting. The Big Roar - their debut - although occasionally too eccentric for their own good, proved extremely appealing and energetic rock music was still being produced in the UK without the constant forcing of it down one's throat from the NME and their bloodlust for bitchy, tedious Oasis tributes.

Yet, still, the band remain relatively unknown. They don't seem to have the namedropping credentials amongst UK music fans that, say, Alt-J or Palma Violets are currently enjoying. 2012 may have just been the antidote to that problem, as the band picked up a supporting slot in Autumn with fellow arena-shakers Muse. Heck, even by the end of 2011 they were on a Twilight soundtrack. So what makes Wolf's Law worth your attention?

One word: ambition. The Big Roar proved that they clearly had their sights set on big, heavy, anthemic songwriting with all sorts of starry synths and prog-rock drumming thrown in for good measure, and that trend is stretched further on their sophomore. Right from lead single 'This Ladder is Ours'' dramatic strings intro, the band are eager for attention and to brighten your day. Must be a Welsh thing. The track in question goes onto be the most listenable and gorgeous indie-rock hook of the year so far, somewhat reminiscent of fellow 2011 breakthroughs Yuck. Singer Ritzy Bryan does a convincing cutesy vocal, but it's a rarity on Wolf's Law; at most times, she's fearless. 'Cholla' particularly picks up the pace and unleashes heavy rock drum carnage and horns, at the expense of a little originality (it sounds dangerously similar to debut track Whirring), whilst the lo-fi 'Tendons' takes on a doo-wop rhythm and puts Bryan in the role of nonsense lyricist ("I think I understand/ the past is circling/ Nothing that's lit can be in flames this long"? Really?) One of many breathless moments comes courtesy of the unrelenting 'Little Blimp', a continual pouring of drumming and screams.

The track most similar to the band they recently supported is 'Bats', a series of riffs that seemingly decides upon the next note and bar by process of random pointing, before crashing into a thrashing drum solo or shouted, repeated lyrics. It's quite fun, and what Muse are missing. The noise stops for a brief moment on 'Silent Treatment', the obligatory pretty acoustic moment. Bryan still manages to stamp her own endearing, singalong cries on the track to save it from tedium, and it's eventually manifest as an acceptable detour from their usual sound. What follows is the most challenging and, sadly, unaccomplished cut: 'Maw Maw Song' right from the get-go is a silly, parodical blues rock piece, inexplicably backed with harps. But then it becomes something of a Black Sabbath tribute piece, with a melody not too dissimilar from Iron Man. And once that verse is over it gets running again, but it doesn't really know where. Much more focused is the starry, more conventionally-written 'Forest Serenade', where greater attention is paid to melody and pacing than insanity and audacity.

Prettier still is the immediate favourite 'The Leopard & the Lung', with lead vocals from bassist Rhydian Dafydd (how Welsh?!) It's odd that it should sound one of the more contained tracks on the record, but it's buzzing more with suggestion and tension than the usual bombast the band seem to opt for. Because the band are wont to a weird gimmick on occasion: take the gravel-treading intro to 'The Hurdle', an otherwise fine (if generic) indie track. They even go for the hidden track on 'The Turnaround': first part a dreamy, drifting piece with breathy "Come back now" vocals and strings. A bit too wishy-washy to stand out, really. Much more endearing is the hidden title track, with its simple piano backing. "Don't wait; let's go go go" is fittingly the closing message, with a soaring, uplifting instrumental to boot.

The only problem I can find with listening to them on headphones or speakers is that their albums tend to be so erratically arranged and the tracks are often quite jarring in relation to each other, that you can't help but get the impression their work is just the best-bit cuts of their live performances and, therefore, the album is just the trio hoping for the best. There's never really any sense of cohesion - at least not yet, and it would be unfair to write them off after two albums. I understand that it's ironic after the introduction that I leave you with a not-quite-rave review but given the opportunity to see them live, or given an afternoon off to leave their albums playing around the house would be the ideal experience here. They're not a band to be left to occasional shuffle plays.

Rating: 8/10
Highlights: Forest Serenade; This Ladder Is Ours; Wolf's Law; Bats; Little Blimp; The Leopard & The Lung
Avoid: Maw Maw Song

Artwork Watch: I usually save this feature for something sarcastic and bitchy but I actually really like this. Not sure PETA will.
Up next: John Grant