Review Summary: tragedy / quality
On first listen, I thought
Other Words Fail Me was okay. When paying closer attention to its lyrics and subsequently reading about the record’s backstory, I thought it was a fair bit better than okay. Written during a period of severe mental health issues and the aftermath of a lengthy abusive relationship, Ella Walker’s debut full length as Wildes feels oddly impenetrable for its floaty indie pop stylings. It’s an album that, on top of ambiguously excellent songs, presents one question: what is the relationship between tragedy and the quality of music?
More concretely: would
Other Words Fail Me be as
good as it is without its tragic backstory? It’s an unfair question to ask as the music could never exist in its current form without this crucial element, but also one that I find myself wondering about with regards to other pieces of music - look no further than last year’s extraordinary
Preacher’s Daughter. I don’t intend to spend the rest of this review defending
Other Words Fail Me’s quality
in spite of its subject matter either, but it is worth mentioning that, ultimately, it was this casual initial listen that caused me to revisit the record and investigate further. As such, it seems imperative to understand the album (and ones like it) as being in constant conversation with its heavy subject matter: neither defined by nor defining one another entirely at any point in time.
This dynamic is best felt through
Other Words Fail Me’s sequencing: opener ‘Woman in Love’ is a brief and accessible number that encompasses none of the overwhelmingly grey tones of the subsequent songs. It’s a contrast that is enhanced by ‘Lightly’s trading of an ethereal chorus with explicit dissonance, reflecting the ambiguously straightforward nature of its lyrics being empowering yet distressing at once. Walker’s vocal approach is a perfect fit for this atmosphere; while she may not have the most original voice, her passionate performances and gently demanding tones more than make up for this. Moreover, while the record encompasses many explicitly catchy choruses, each song feels deceptively memorable outside of these moments. Even though ‘Restless’ presents such a delightful hook, its true beauty can be found in the way the song subtly increases in urgency before returning to an ethereally pristine final minute.
The majority of
Other Words Fail Me wears its misery on its sleeve, constructing a pop record that burns in favour of
popping. As such, it feels paradoxically inaccessible at times - it can be said that almost every song encompasses an appropriate closing track for a more uplifting album. Therefore, the marginally more upbeat ‘Just Like You’ forms a nice breather among the grey. It may not truly break the looming sense of monotony, but does manage to showcase Walker’s vocals in a slightly different context and reaffirms her songwriting capabilities. Moreover, there is an argument to be made in favour of this monotony: in covering topics of abuse and depression,
Other Words Fail Me reflects the nature of such awful experiences. It never aims to make a spectacle out of its subject matter, and instead focuses on crafting excellent songs that are primarily concerned with conveying emotion.
As such,
Other Words Fail Me succeeds neither in spite of nor due to its heavy subject matter. Much like any other album, it exists as a product of its creators' circumstances - the good, the bad, the monotonous. While it can feel somewhat impenetrable as a result of this, wading through the record multiple times and uncovering the sheer beauty of highlight ‘Enfant’ is one of the many rewards to be found. Wildes’ full length debut is mesmerising yet imperfect, while being a perfect exploration of anguish and an equally brilliant point of departure for the young artist’s future projects.
