Splayed on the floor with mental and bodily fatigue, suddenly there’s this leeward tide of an ethereally welcoming bass guitar, refusing to allow anything, but a generous return into a galaxy of spirited sound, parted by a distant cry of sinister vocals that eventually plunges into a shaking riff pit. It’s with the first song “Untitled” that The Wrists welcome you into their world with their self-titled debut on AuralgamiSOUNDS.
It’s almost a familiar welcome. The Wrists were born out of the demise of Natives, born out of the demise of Invaders. I hear connections to these bands, but through very subtle sonic relations. Most notable to me is that carriage that holds both psych-fuzz close to semi-surfish leads from the guitar. These players have a full power of swallowing the influences found in psychedelia, garage and spy-rock tunes and yelling back out a melodic rock from a future that can be harsh and melodic simultaneously.
The song “Tombs” measures as my favorite piece on the record, kicking in as track two with a sweep of cool, enchanting catchiness that almost gazes at shoes with a sadness in its delivery, but continues with a mid-tempo gait that becomes ingrained with a swaying, tapping rhythm.
The vocals are often swimming in a rain of reverb, adding to a ghostly dreaminess of these songs that can swerve into a noisiness at the drop of a drip. Speaking of drips, the song “The Drip” scalds with its own shreddiness that showcases the dynamics of this record.