The Louisville indie rock trio takes a gloomy, fantastical turn on its third album.
To create Fairy Rust, Wombo transported themselves into the haze of a mystical forest. Inspired by the works of Washington Irving, the Brothers Grimm, and Hans Christian Anderson, the Louisville indie rock trio dug through old morality tales for their folkloric wisdom. While their previous record, Blossomlooksdownuponus, had a happy-but-possessed childlike energy, this one searches for darker, more tormented subject matter, complemented by hypnotic music that seems suited for live performance in a cave.
The album has a more exaggerated post-punk tint, foregrounding cyclical basslines and combative, dry drums. Each track sounds both organic and artificial, with traditional instruments filtered through eerie effects that make it sound like you’re listening through a cardboard roll. On opener “Snakey,” vocalist Sydney Chadwick’s typically satellite-high vocals sound overcast, lower in range and pushed back in the mix, making space for her mid-tempo arpeggiating bass. Her voice disappears for the haunted instrumental breaks that highlight Cameron Lowe’s detuned droning electric guitar and drummer Joel Taylor’s cowbell hits. Compared to the ASMR baby-talk of Blossomlooksdownuponus opener “Sweet Powder Sugar Sandy,” it’s a noticeable departure: Levity seems to have disapperated, leaving ardent gloom in its place.
In some tracks, the references to mysticism are obvious and immediate: The title of “RVW” is short for “Rip Van Winkle,” while “Headstand” opens with the Greek myth of Athena being born from Zeus’ skull. In more subtle ways, the concept of a warped reality threads throughout the whole record. Imagery of a hidden town beneath a hill, a demon wading through a creek, and lopsided walls covered in shadows feel as though they exist on a Twilight Zone plane. Wombo have stated that lyrics always come “dead ass last” in their collaborative writing process, a fact that occasionally comes to mind. Between the more bracing imagery, they incorporate catch-all lines like “I am slipping through while grabbing for my memories,” and, “On a winding road you come to meet yourself again/Never growing old, you only gain experience.” On a record that draws from such vivid source material, these vague thoughts feel out of place.
Even grittier spots, like the feedback-ridden electric guitar outro on 7/8-time standout “Below the House,” can seem choreographed. Compared to the band’s more experimental past work, only a few moments actually feel adventurous: the echoing vocal canon on “Regular Demon,” or some delightfully unexpected saxophone on “She Go.” Even the nod to atonality on “It Melted” is overshadowed by a repetitive bassline and drum pattern. Although their journeys lead to mostly familiar places, Wombo sounds right at home in these moments of dark escapism, and the mystical tales of Fairy Rust are short tours into the murky caverns of the mind.
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