Vertigo by Wand
It’s hardly a law, but it is a rule of thumb calloused by guitar strings: if a rock ‘n’ roll song makes the listener feel pleasantly woozy, that song is probably in the realm of the psychedelic. Between 60 and 90 seconds into its sixth studio album, Vertigo, Wand achieves that wooziness via “Hangman.”
The Los Angeles group, currently a quartet, sustains that initial tide of wooziness another seven or eight minutes, including the next track, “Curtain Call,” which, with a nearly imperceptible shift, becomes an extended “Hangman” coda.
Not everything psychedelic is woozy, though, and neither is Wand: lead singer Cory Hanson is a Nevada vista away from a stoner-rock macho man, preferring a higher register that could make him a worthy duet partner for the younger brother in Sparks, Russell Mael, and conveying a comforting warmth even when the music is colder and crisper.
“Lifeboat” is chilly like that, especially at first, with a creeping bassline, sonic patterns that echo tinnitus, and horns with faintly noirish menace; Hanson exhales as if wafting away the paranoia of the music. “Smile” churns with guitar notes and chords that move between harmony and disquiet; Hanson drifts through that movement as if embodying the song title.
While Hanson handles multiple instruments, the other three Wand men—Evan Backer, Evan Burrows, and Robbie Cody—wield considerable power as well, and the entire group’s shared production and mixing duties favor depth and clarity.
Collectively, then, Wand and a small assembly of additional musicians, particularly string players, create a windblown-desert atmosphere worthy of Calexico in “JJ,” but also dig into skronky riffs that saw across the theoretically mellow surface of the mini-epic penultimate track, “High Time.” The finale, “Seaweed Head,” suggests the Velvet Underground’s idea of an LSD comedown—a very arty wooziness.
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