Present Tense

“We may be savage and raw, but at the core / We’ve higher needs,” Hayden Thorpe croons softly during the final moments of ‘Palace’; the closer of Wild Beasts’ fourth album. It’s a sentiment which could easily be interpreted as a mantra for the Cumbria quartet. Beneath the erotically-charged surfaces of each of their releases lurks finer motive: keen intelligence, willingness to evolve, and a collectively gifted craftsmanship which is seldom short of breathtaking to behold. As their discography has progressed and their vocabularies transformed, the Beasts’ more outré pleasures have been gently peeled away, steadily revealing the beauty which has always been at the core of their music.

This increasing trend of less-is-more continues to run through Present Tense. As with 2011’s remarkable Smother, the group has shifted the spotlight from guitar-based compositions to songs grounded in electronic instrumentation, going as far as to recruit Alex ‘Lexxx’ Dromgoole and Leo Abrahams as producers for this outing (in lieu of longstanding collaborator Richard Formby). The result is a graceful collection of art-pop gems threaded with synthesisers, which consistently bear the band’s distinct identity, manifest in those distinctive vocal flourishes and silky atmospheres. Additionally, there is a newfound directness to Present Tense: hooks no longer feel quite so deeply buried, structures are brisker and faster in flow, and the lyrical riddles of yesteryear have been toned down.

All four players bring their own dazzling contributions, but it’s Tom Fleming who is the album’s MVP, presiding with lordly menace over the darkest reaches of the record. Fleming neatly ducks into the slipstream of lead single ‘Wanderlust’ with the ominous ‘Nature Boy’, in which he snarls physically imposing threats to a cuckolded rival: “I’m the thing you fenced in / I’m ten men.” Better still is the apocalyptic showpiece ‘Daughters’; a spine-tinglingly slinky construction, over which Fleming proffers cryptic scenes of violence and uprising. “From the egg / Broke my little girl / Destroyer of worlds,” he intones gravely, before the song caves in to a booming battle of synthesisers, which crash against one another in a simple but devastatingly effective crescendo. It’s a prime example of Wild Beasts teasing great power from comparatively restrained materials, and it’s utterly entrancing.

There is a newfound directness to Present Tense: hooks no longer feel quite so deeply buried, structures are brisker and faster in flow, and the lyrical riddles of yesteryear have been toned down.

This isn’t to say that Fleming’s bandmates are left in the dust. Synths may be the group’s signature of the moment, but guitars remain equally integral to their appeal. Given their sparser utilisation, when Ben Little’s melodies do announce themselves, they are even more striking in their glossy splendour, such as his understated contribution which nuzzles against the melancholy cruelty of ‘A Dog’s Life’. Drummer Chris Talbot’s eccentricities and effect-laden beats are markedly reined-in on Present Tense, but he deploys several well-timed tricks across the breadth of the album, keeping the group’s rhythm section as pleasantly surprising as ever. Thorpe himself tends to take chief vocal duties on the album’s gentler moments, such as the new-wave thrum of ‘Mecca’ and the chirrups of ‘Past Perfect’.

All are charming, but the most captivating results are found when Thorpe and Fleming allow their voices to dovetail, creating passages of supreme beauty. ‘Sweet Spot’ and ‘A Simple Beautiful Truth’ are both sumptuous; the latter perhaps the catchiest song in their entire oeuvre: a short, sweet, and bouncy ballad which is all the more arresting for its simplicity. The journey concludes with ‘Palace’: Wild Beasts’ most straightforward paean to love yet. It’s a heart-meltingly beautiful stirring of sun-kissed synths, spiralling piano motifs, and a sincerely moving vocal from Thorpe. “There’s have-alls and there are have-nots / I’m happy with what I’ve got,” he declares, allowing this chapter in the Beasts’ story a radiant, cathartic close. It would take a heart of stone not to be moved by such unflagging candour.

As is probably apparent, the likes of ‘Palace’ are a far cry from the cruel riposte which closes ‘Wanderlust’ (“don’t confuse me for someone who gives a fuck”), and indeed, Present Tense is not Wild Beasts’ most thematically congruous work to date, nor their most musically ornate. Nevertheless, with results as captivating and mellifluous as those described here, it remains an album of gentle enchantment, bridging power and passion with characteristic flair. It is a true treat; a sensual and essential listen, which provides further validation of Wild Beasts’ status as one of the truly unique bands of the modern soundscape.

Similar To: Grizzly Bear, Arthur Beatrice

MP3: ‘Wanderlust’, ‘Daughters’, ‘Palace’

Photo: flickr/NRK P3