£15.99 – Limited LP and signed if you come to the in store performance on Tuesday 21st February – more details HERE
tread carefully in to Oliver Wilde’s bewitching world because you’ll need your wits about you.
the bristol-based artist’s extraordinary songs are as dark as they are uplifting, as unsettling as they are soothing and as harrowing as they are hauntingly beautiful. getting lost their warm wooziness is easy, but the deeper you delve in to their sensual layers of carefully-orchestrated, analogue-aided electronica, the more they reveal. emerging with your emotions unscathed isn’t an option. oliver’s eagerly-awaited third album, the poetically-titled post-frenz container buzz, marks a significant sonic step on from its revered predecessors, 2013’s a brief introduction to unnatural lightyears and 2014’s red tide opal in the loose end womb. the 27 year old hailed a modern-day nick drake and compared to everyone from beck and bright eyes to mbv and deerhunter has broadened his sonic palette and sharpened his songwriting on an album on which he set out to subvert the concept of pop. “my first two albums were fairly simple,” says oliver. “there was no attempt at arrangement, for example. these new songs are the first i’ve developed fully, using all that i’ve learnt in the last few years. it’s easily the most accessible music i’ve ever made.” forthcoming lead single good kind of froze, about how perceptions of ourselves differ from how other people see us, has already made its debut on radio 1 and been championed at 6 music by lauren laverne, steve lamacq and marc riley. “good kind of froze contains the most elements of my previous music, my ‘bedroom downer pop’ as i called it,” says oliver. “but it also introduces my move in to a new space. “in the past, i built atmospheres in which to bury the dark subject matter because i couldn’t face it full on. this time, i took the clichés of pop – the structure, the form, the earworm hooks, the emphasis on rhythm – and made them ugly in order to address wider demons. “you’re so kool-aid, for example, has a catchy tune, a beat and a bass synth. it’s funky, but it’s about suicide. putting a subject people shy away from in to what is dressed as a pop song makes it easier to talk about because it’s in a familiar, comfortable, nonaggressive setting. and if you don’t look too deeply in to what the song is about, it’s just a nice tune that people can attach their own meaning to.” some of the subject matter of the new songs is personal, relating to oliver’s recent life, a relationship break-up and his on-going battle with cardiac sarcoidosis, a rare heart disease with which he was diagnosed shortly after releasing his second album, which put his career on hold for almost two years. two of the tracks, the gently dreamy goner and the wonky, hypnotic big black chunk, are obviously romantic. elsewhere, for the first time, oliver looked outside his own life for inspiration. “there are a lot of mental health and gender issues on this album,” he says. “my first two albums were all about my own plight and search for inner peace. this time i wanted to use the privileged position i’ve been given to tell other people’s stories too. smothered, for example, has silly synths, but also a chorus in which, if you look for it, a horrific incident that happened to a friend is contained.”