Sorry About Tomorrow
Wax and Wane
This Wilderness follow a little-traveled path of the punk rock revolution. Their minimalism follows in the proto-industrial tradition of Suicide, Flying Lizards and Cabaret Voltaire. Most of the sounds were made by Jim Coleman (formerly of Cop Shoot Cop) with some help from his former band mate Phil Puleo.
Fall down a well to keep these lost souls company. There isn’t much light now here, so things are kind of murky. There aren’t many resources available, so the sounds you hear are being produced with left over electronics and tortured souls. It’s frightening down here in the abyss. The man singing was rejected by the Cenobites for unblinkingly staring into the heart of despair and perdition. It was too much for Pinhead.
Take the lament called “P.O.N.K.” – it’s a shout out to the people of North Korea, lamenting strange karma and insane leaders. Robert Leaver’s tortured voice wails over machine drums and Spartan electronic tones. It’s the sound of one lost soul reaching out to other l souls in despair, but failing to connect.
“My Medication” is a meditation on addiction to prescription drugs. The story is harrowing. The singer is aware that something is off. He is somewhat aware of what he’s doing to his family, while ultimately, it’s the medications that occupy his mind.
“God is not a reliable witness,” Leaver proclaims as the world is being washed away by hurricane and flood. Is the swift conviction he’s begging for an escape into some kind of institutionalized safety? The most melodically accessible song is a bleak meditation called, “d.o.g. (down on god)”. Hope? The most hopeful song is called “Drop Dead”. The singer is hoping to die on the dance floor somewhere
Come down to the bottom of the well and keep these lost souls company. It’s true that they are exploring dark corners of the psyche, yet the stories are beautiful like Eraserhead or H.R. Geiger paintings. I think Chuthulu might be lurking around here somewhere.