It all turns on one brilliant final line where Rowsell calls her mom to check in, taking “Delicious Things” out of the realm of musical tourism and into a sad and very human drama as she takes ownership of her capitulation to the illicit charms of various party favors and wolfish bullshit artists, “Delicious Things” proves the endurance of basic Hollywood fantasies for people who should probably know better.įor all of its obvious ambitions towards creating a “cinematic” scope-quoting Macbeth on opener “The Beach,” ending with “The Beach II,” and fitting a loose breakup narrative in between-Wolf Alice work more on an episodic level, each track creating a specific mood easily separable from the whole. On “Delicious Things,” Rowsell dips into a husky lower register to outline a debauched stay in Los Angeles. Rowsell can sell the feeling of being inelegantly wasted on “Play the Greatest Hits” (“I leave the present empty/But I make it gift wrapped”), but similar to Visions of a Life’s “ Yuk Foo,” its foray into a noise can feel a bit tokenized. Three albums in, Wolf Alice still lack a quintessence that immediately establishes a song as Wolf Alice rather than bending to its influences first. The 1975 or Rina Sawayama’s eclecticism is far messier and riskier and no matter where it takes them, they never leave any doubt whose song it is. But Blue Weekend can seem a bit circumspect compared to their Dirty Hit labelmates. In the context of popular alternative rock, Blue Weekend is inspiring, maybe even life-changing for anyone who hears “Smile” alongside bands like Royal Blood or Catfish and the Bottlemen. “Smile” barely conceals its disdain for critical condescension as the band works through a funk-metal groove that could serve as the theme song for a gender-flipped reboot of Entourage. This is where Wolf Alice’s impact feels most distinct: Rowsell eyerolls her way through “Last Man on Earth,” which variously recalls Bowie, the Beatles, and Pink Floyd as she mocks the mythos of male genius that animates classic rock boosterism. “Safe From Heartbreak (if i never fall in love)” is Wolf Alice’s entry into indie-adjacent, twang-free country-pop strip away the floodlit harmonies that make Rowsell sound like a one-woman Staves and the 12-string overdubs and it’s an Elliott Smith song.īut if there’s any overarching pop culture trend defining Wolf Alice’s existence, it’s how they repackage existing IP to reflect modern sensibilities. When the negative space is flooded with reverb, Wolf Alice flaunt the glitziest production values ever heard on a shoegaze album turn the reverb down and they’re a more guitar-centered version of big-budget bedroom-pop. Blue Weekend makes ample use of the big Wolf Alice jukebox.
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