Wave Machines - Pollen
- Written by Richard Wink
I tend to find myself struggling to ‘use’ music in the same way I used to. As a motivating force I could face work off the back of a hearty mix of abrasive guitars and big beat braggadocio. The melancholy moments in my life could be embraced when sitting back with a glass of whisky and some forlorn voice from the Sixties serenading me about true love. Like many things, it comes and it goes; the moments when I have been wholly affected by the wonder of music seem to be waning for me. I therefore listened to this album with some trepidation, while not really expecting much in the first place.
Wave Machines are an interesting proposition, in the sense that they are an unarguably organised, no frills synth band existing in a time of temporary highlights and casual shuffle. Pollen therefore is destined to drift across many people’s attention spans and barely register. The songs on this album are structured in such a way that to take them away from the ‘whole’ leaves them horribly exposed; hence why a song such as ‘Ill Fit’ only has around thirty one and a half thousand views on YouTube, because despite decent radio play there’s no buzz surrounding the track. ‘Ill Fit’ does not draw you in enough; it is a distant play for pop song that keeps the listener at arm’s length.
Pollen’s flaws stem from its lack of highlights, though its starker moments such as ‘Home’ are highly enjoyable and recalls Wave Machines’ earlier material, thus the more conventional approach appears to serve them well. Prior to that it is all a bit vague - indecipherable lyrics that should share the experience of loneliness while downtrodden bedroom dwellers drift out of the speakers to an abandoned sofa marked with the imprint of somebody’s departed bum prints. In other words, the listener is given ample opportunity to leave.
Stick with it; I think ultimately that’s the message of Pollen both to the listener, and as a general outlook on life. There is a degree of perseverance, a dogged struggle that takes place during ‘Unwound’, a song which has many literal qualities when thinking of its title. A withdrawn euphoria that flitters in and out of each of the songs on Pollen finally explodes out on this track, albeit under some restraint.
Getting to the point and tossing aside the floral prose that each critic feels the need to garnish an album review with, I would say that Pollen is one of those albums that you’ll never listen to more than half a dozen times. By third spin I’m already a little distracted: there’s nothing astounding or noteworthy to grab you, albeit it feels wrong to label it ‘average’ or ‘mediocre’, but if thinking in terms of what new acquaintances to Wave Machines might expect, then unfortunately they are not going to be captivated by sonically precious synths and wearisome lyrics alone. For some reason I wanted something more despite my lack of expectations.
Pollen