Wild Beasts - Present Tense

For those of us of a gayer disposition, the slow realisation of a new Wild Beasts record, whilst exciting, does initially make one yearn for a new Antony & the Johnsons record instead. Whilst Hegarty toys around with live recordings, greatest hits, and Hercules and Love Affair, his vocal kindred spirit Hayden Thorpe will have to do.


If 2011's Smother was anything to go by, however, then I should probably ditch the sulking; not to mention the fact that it was being partly recorded just around the corner from my university, being such the fan of irrelevant, vaguely personal trivia that I am.
 

Where Smother settled down with its shoegazing, serene melodies, Present Tense takes care to open boldly and with a snarling, John Grantesque synth. Much seems to have been made of their subtle digs at other bands here but I can't quite find much to support that; instead it seems to tear apart obnoxious 'worldly' folk who're bragging to Thorpe, whilst the synths and drums escalate in pitch and urgency like a kettle boiling over. Present tension rather seems to be the main focus of parts of the album, as 'Nature Boy' forces all sorts of uncomfortable, in-your-face threats ("The things she said she'd never do/ a little fun for me, none for you") to steal your girlfriend down your throat. At least there're counterweights; 'Mecca' has little more menacing to say than a ruminative pause on the cycle of love and moving on from/looking for it, set to a charmingly lo-fi track that could've just as easily served as a Phil Collins instrumental (but, you know, one of the good ones). The guitars especially intrigue me: at times they've all the mirage of Tame Impala's trademark psychedelia, but there're sobering, plucky, new-romantic qualities too. 'Sweet Spot' is a prime example of where these styles merge, and that's probably just as well given the lyric's dichotomy ("There is a godly state/ where the real and the dream may consummate").

At times, the oddities that make Wild Beasts so distinctive and fascinating become a touch...daft? Pretentious? 'Daughters', a gloriously dark and atmospheric track, finds bassist Tom Fleming warning everyone about some sort of revolution of the youth, with the terrific/terrible closing omen: "From the egg, broke my little girl/ destroyer of worlds". This reptilian monster is given time to shine, as a minute and a half of the same drum loop with increasingly loud sound effect ensues. On the flip side, something as seemingly mundane as the companionship of a canine makes 'A Dog's Life' so startlingly sweet; the sweeping, mourning synths after Thorpe suggests "throw the ball up into space" are one stand-out moment on the record.

Fans of the band's knack for chilled crooning seen on the album's predecessor will be placated by the likes of 'Pregnant Pause' and the jaunty, almost HAIMlike 'A Simple Beautiful Truth', but what marks Present Tense as a significant step forward for the band are its risks taken. Fittingly-titled 'New Life' spends a great deal of time resting on just one, shimmering synth note until it's joined by theramins, choirs and disjointed percussion to create something novel and marvellous.

The minor fault with Present Tense, though, is that its tracks seem at times at odds with each other, and there's no real flow. On other, simpler albums that might go by unnoticed, but with themes and lyrics as bizarre as Thorpe/Fleming's, it acts as an unwanted wake-up call. For the most part however, Wild Beasts' fourth may be their greatest just for being their most daring.

Rating: 8/10
Highlights: Mecca, A Dog's Life, Pregnant Pause, Wanderlust, New Life
Avoid: n/a

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