Wednesday Paint a Picture of Pained Nostalgia in 'Rat Saw God'
Photo: Zachary Chick
Indie rock has gained a new classic, and it’s Wednesday’s Rat Saw God.
The first track greets listeners with a wall of bitter distortion—the literal sonic embodiment of the title, “Hot Rotten Grass Smell,” that organic acridness, slightly edged with sweetness. It sets us up for an album of vivid emotional texture and alternative prowess, leading smoothly into "Bull Believer." I could write a novel about “Bull Believer,” the album’s odyssey told in two acts: Bull and Believer. It’s almost an indie rock homage to Radiohead’s “Paranoid Android,” but less outlandish and more gloriously hysterical.
The song unfolds in an ominous push and pull; a driving drumbeat coursing under wailing guitars that tug at tense vocals. “Bull” trudges through the clawing grief of watching someone lose themselves to addiction, staging the tragedy in a bullfighting arena. It sways back and forth over the line of loosely contained rage and cathartic eruption. The second act, “Believer,” then reels us in, reminiscing over a melodic guitar line. This half exists in the liminal space after a loss, where the chorus repetition of the lyrics, “believe me, believer,” circles back to the first act’s “comfort fools us into faith.” It raises questions of hope, conviction, and bitterness. The outro of “Bull Believer” is the true catharsis, though. Songwriter, Karly Hartzman, builds up to this guttural, stomach-churning wail that is so viciously therapeutic it almost hurts to listen to but feels healing over the expansive arrangement.
“Got Shocked” is one of the songs that contributes to Rat Saw God’s overall nostalgic, “I’m 17 years old sitting on a decaying couch in somebody’s parent’s basement trying to wrap my mind around life” sort of energy. It feels like a memory I didn’t live, but still have imprinted on my adolescence, all gruesome imagery and weeping guitars. Meanwhile, “Formula One” lets the pedal steel croon its melancholy song in the spotlight, painting shimmering waves of longing across the soundscape. There’s a nod to Pinegrove in the vocals and the soft-spoken, narrative delivery of the harmonies. I also hear moments of Bruce Springsteen in the sturdy guitar hits of “Chosen To Deserve,” one of the more anthemic, light tracks off Rat Saw God. Wednesday’s tone leans away from its usual fatalistic edge here, tiptoeing toward hopefulness in this confessional tune.
“Bath County” is another quintessential Wednesday indie rock hit. Hartzman’s lyricism feels like visiting your hometown and realizing the roads had been paved in shades of grey rather than the rosy hues from your memories. Her unique way with words intersects with the band’s dynamic arrangement in “Quarry,” wherein the outro quite literally drifts off as the singer holds out the line, “When we give up, we go to sleep.”
“Turkey Vultures” depicts Wednesday’s glorious abandonment of any modern music rules with its tempo changes and mood shifts, while “What’s So Funny” wanders through a dark memory, like a momentary monologue by the album’s unseen narrator. The perfect closer, “TV in the Gas Pump,” sends listeners fluttering through sepia vignettes like a film reel. Images of side-of-the-road furniture and an empty swing set embody that signature Wednesday dichotomy: the sour ache that persists even in the sweet moments of nostalgia. Rat Saw God gleams with this poignant burn, making it a kaleidoscopically raw addition to the Asheville band's collection of alternative tracks.
Listen to Rat Saw God below:
