The press release states ‘Wicked Immigrant are neither an evil band of migrant workers nor a right wing anti-alien group.’ If I may be so bold as to offer some advice, change your name, it’s awful. It’s also misleading because rather than being confronted with bad heavy metal or raging skinheads, Wicked Immigrant could be loosely called indie folk and definitely err on the side of delicate, fragile acoustic songs.
Consisting of two main members John Wenzel (vocals, guitars and synths) and Chris Jones (bass) and several guest musicians including Sarah Arnold on Cello (we’ll come back to her). Apparently John and Chris have never played or practised in the same room, which immediately reminds me of the last Friendly Psychic Music release reviewed on W&H, Upstate’s ‘Missing Soundtrack’ who also have never played together in the same room but rather mail each other their contributions. This is either a bold statement of our times, the breakdown of community and the rise of the internet building virtual communities or a bunch of miserable sods who don’t like interacting with other people in traditional forms. Either way in both cases the results have given a distance to the music, an alienation, a removal that can leave the listener cold.
What saves Wicked Immigrant is the quality of songs. Although there is little variation from song to song the basic premise of beautifully plucked acoustic guitars, fuzzy vocals and an overwhelming feeling of loss and regret combine to offer us a record to be wallowed in. It feels like a Sunday morning hangover when you’re sure you really messed up in some way the night before but you can’t quite remember what you did or whom you did it to.
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What really elevates this record though is the use of the use of the cello. Appearing on 6 of the 14 songs it’s beautiful, haunting refrain invokes a wonderfully melancholy presence. The use of orchestras, particularly during the Britpop era, was completely worn-out as though adding a string section to any half-rate song gave instant gravitas. Here the lonely cello truly adds to the songs and when occasionally paired with gentle electric guitar or piano manages to re-capture the attention, which occasionally drifts during this very subdued album.
So bold pioneers of future band relationships or miserable buggers who can’t stand to be in the same room, it’s up to you to deicide. What is certain is this is a beautifully crafted album that invites the listener to dwell in it’s off beat charms. Shame about the name though.
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