It's fairly commonplace to recognise band or artists reference points relatively quickly these days. A guitar band that has listened a lot to Pavement. Another that is in thrall to bands in the C-86 movement. He singer or songwriter who clearly venerates Nilsson.
Anand Wilder is not quite one of those. He owes a debt vocally to Marc Bolan's tender quiver. He has something of Donavan's hippy lovechild about him. I was sometimes reminded of Elliott Smith or Fairport Convention.
All of these inspirations make Wilder's latest album I Don't Know My Words, altogether the kind of thing Wes Anderton might listen to when he gets home. There's definitely a whimsy to all of this. A preciousness. But also poetic, rich and florid quality to Wilder's songwriting and delivery that's really quite rare nowadays.
Wilder has a rich track record. He was lead singer for Yeasayer, who were active for more than a decade before going their separate ways in 2019. I don't know their records but was aware their reputation was considerable and I Don't Know My Words, his first record since then, will definitely inspire me to investigate further.
It's a beguiling and intriguing record. Definitely owing a debt to the late Sixties and the artists I've mentioned but with plenty of bohemian and poetic fire of its own, in its own loins. Highly recommended.
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