Review by Allie LaRoe
If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if John Mayer wrote ‘dirt bag country’ songs, then Wilderado’s Talker is the album for you. It features all the references to substance use without any of the inner struggle that makes the sub-genre compelling.
If I had come across this album on a sunny day sitting next to the lake, I would feel differently. It’s the kind of thing that you would put on quietly and then talk over the whole time. It contributes to the atmosphere but falls apart upon closer examination.
Many of the songs blend together in a vaguely pleasant nostalgic haze. Even after multiple listens, there was only one that stood out to me: "After All.” While it’s still aesthetically reminiscent of 90s soft rock, it leads with a hook that reverberates with yearning before dropping into minimal instrumentation for the verse. The use of dynamics and an alternative song structure creates a welcome break, although it unfortunately comes towards the end of the album.
I can’t help but wonder if part of Talker’s banality is the production. Acoustic performances and previous records released by the Oklahoma band don’t shy away from emotion or variety. In the official release, they said they wanted this album to be “groovy” and “easy to listen to,” and they succeeded in that. However, the pressure to produce something “professional” resulted in airbrushing out all of the qualities that make music meaningful.
That’s not to say this is a “bad” album or that thought and attention haven’t clearly been put into its creation. It’s technically flawless but creatively safe. It meanders, buoyed by layered guitar and softly murmured lyrics—but it’s one of those circular pools you find at a water park. A pleasant way to pass time that takes you nowhere.
What’s really missing is any kind of vulnerability or authentic feeling. Far from leading us through the sticky-floored bars and lonely highways described, we’re stuck hearing about it secondhand. The musical arrangement doesn’t support the lyrical content at all. It’s as if we’re standing in a hotel elevator as a man in chinos tries to be relatable by talking about his Adderall use.
In the title track, Max Rainer sings, “I’m not sure what I would have to say to you.” By the end of the album, it’s clear that he never really figured it out.
Comments