Why? – ‘The Well I Fell Into’ album review: an inventive new take on dated emo
THE SKINNY: Why? are now almost three decades into their reign of urban hymns. Headed by Yoni Wolf, the assembled collective are now even more assured in their experimentation with their first release on the Cincinnati songwriter’s new label, Waterlines. That’s a confidence that shows in the bountiful skill and innovation resplendent on The Well I Fell Into—a record that has an ambient heart, hip-hop overture and emo indie affectation, all blended in a manner that stirs up interesting juxtapositions and notes of dissonance.
From an objective standpoint, inventiveness and talent are all there for the lauding. However, without a label to pose any questions, there is also a touch of self-indulgence detectable in segments when everything becomes a little overblown, perhaps creating something unique but also deriding beautiful mingling moments of ambience and soaring strings with pounding synth bass and 808-beat drops that serve as a showcase of mixing skill more than they serve the mournful songs.
And the songs are, indeed, mournful. Wolf charts a breakup in a period of societal disillusionment, laying out the core theme of the record within the opening lines, “I used to be married”, soon followed by, “I’ve barely been in my body since Obama”. In a manner that seems harsh and fresh, the 45-year-old bemoans, losing a sense of home in dual senses, brutally bludgeoning the listener with old-school emo hardship.
In this regard, it feels not only harsh but cruel to say that The Well I Fell Into lacks refinement – keen fans of the band will no doubt hail it as a stark showing of affecting sincerity – but if the pop-punk twangs and jarring country-meets-hip hop moments prove a bit undignified and immature for your tastebuds, then exposed teenage journal notes like “I am yours, you are mine, when it’s bedtime” can produce a cringe that could snap a weak jaw.
Alas, as you settle into the fact that the record feels a little crass and the songwriting is riddled with dated sentiments that hark back to Wolf’s early days as an artist, the truly astounding production drags you back into objective praise and away from subjective questions about artfulness. Thus, it’s an experiment akin to Mac ‘n’ Cheese ice cream, innovative, impressive but perverse and polarising in equal measure.
For fans of: Breaking down sonic experiments on pro-tools and crying into your can of Monster energy after your girlfriend left you Club Penguin.
A concluding comment from a blind skydiver: “This gentleman ought to have more faith in the future.”
The Well I Fell Into track by track:
Release Date: August 2nd | Producer: The Wolf Bros., Brian Joseph | Label: Waterlines
‘Lauderdale Detour’: Haunting strings and the sort of barbed voicemail babbling you hear from a pocket dial in a horror movie make for a dramatic start to the record. The real triumph is that the mournful melody woven into this experimentalism actually makes it rather beautiful, too. [4/5]
‘Marigold’: The sweeping strings bleed into the first song proper on the record—one that never even pretends that it is going to be anything more than maudlin as Yoni Wolf berates the state of his nation with a pop-punk twang to his voiceover plodding piano. Although the strings are gorgeous, there are few moments where the production overplays its hand a little. [3.5/5]
‘Brand New’: Plucked guitar feels like spring after sneaking out from under the downpour of winter following the marginally overbearing ‘Marigold’. The lyrics quickly mention The Bachelorette as the folk builds towards a billowing rock song. [4/5]
‘G-dzillah G’dolah’: A patted xylophone creates a vaguely nostalgic feeling, but the song doesn’t do a great deal with that bed other than experiment with patches of dissonant slides. The lyrics remain equally impenetrable throughout. [2.5/5]
‘When We Do the Dance’: Eraserhead clanging is mixed with an array of other odd samples as the song atmospherically builds into view like a sunrise. This ambiance is then overlaid with a sudden hip-hop song that never quite mixes fully in a way that proves highly innovative, but it never quite fully forms. [3.5/5]
‘Jump’: We return to the mournful piano refrain that proves to be the spine of the album, but for the first time, the very basic emo lyric of “alone every night, I don’t feel right” makes it feel suddenly very tired. [2/5]
‘Later at the Loon’: A bumbling double bass suddenly waltzes the record outside, as twinkling harpsichord sounds and an array of well-mixed ambient and acoustic elements really showcase how well put together the production on this record is. While it might flirt with being overblown at times, there is no doubting the talent in that area. [4/5]
‘Nis(s)an Dreams Pt 1’: Country enters the mix for the first time on the record, as is to be expected on an album that dips its toes into everything popular in the world of music. As you might expect from that build-up, it all proves just a bit too much unless your high on Monster. [2.5/5]
‘The Letters Etc’: Grammatically incorrect phrasing like “what we was” and comments of being a flat can of coke, stand out of the mix as irritating moments, but like the rest of the record, they’re sour notes in something that is largely put together with assured talent in need of some refinement. [2.5/5]
‘What’s Me’: Panpipes toot, a country drawl croons, and a plan to bring Jonathan down is hatched. It rumbles away easily in a manner reminiscent of Canned Heat. [3.5/5]
‘Sin Imperial’: The Well I Fell Into is certainly not an album that believes less is more. But when you’re 11 tracks in and arrive at an unpolished cut with a wavering melody that feels a lot like a rambling indulgence, perhaps it should. [2/5]
‘Atreyu’: A serene jazzy composition is once again let down by remarks like “I am yours, you are mine when it’s bedtime,” which just feels a little too infantile for a 45-year-old to be singing. In fact, it almost cynically seems geared towards a youthful world beyond his reach. [2/5]
‘Versa Go’: Compositional inventiveness, stirring production, and an impressively dynamic mastery of feeling prove that Why? may well have a brilliant ambient album up their sleeve in another life, but for now, it’s a life that needs to be decluttered. [3.5/5]
‘Sending Out a Pamphlet’: A beautifully played jazz-adjacent arrangement showcases the instrumental class of the record, and Wolf’s more withdrawn vocals feel instantly more endearing. It’s the record most refined cut, promising bright signs for the next Why? record, it’s just a shame it takes so long to get here. [4.5/5]
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