Shudder to Think's Pony Express Record remains one of the strangest artifacts of the post-Nirvana major-label gold rush, a nugget of operatic, sinister, and gleefully self-aware art punk released at the peak of male angst-driven grungemania. Even the band's unexpected 2008 reunion was both of and against its time, a beacon of clear-eyed virtuosity and precision amidst an encroaching tide of gauzy 1990s nostalgia. The reunited Shudder to Think toured sporadically for a couple of years, released a live album (2009's Live From Home), and once again disbanded.
WAND is Shudder to Think singer Craig Wedren's first album since he got the band back together, and it is exactly the album you'd hope somebody would make after reengaging with complex, dynamic music. While 2005's Lapland was stately and muted in its execution, WAND is falling all over itself with ideas. Wedren's voice commands rising and receding string sections, intricate multi-part harmonies, and subtle electronic textures that bloom into full-on rock arrangements. The album's title is apt; though Wedren is joined by a formidable cast of supporting players, much of the record feels conjured out of thin air.
Wedren possesses one of those rare rock voices that is both distinctive and versatile, and he covers a good deal of expressive ground on WAND. On Lapland, Wedren was able to coax a surprising amount of understated sweetness from his voice. Here, Wedren combines that sweetness with the eerie trills of Shudder to Think and the glammy vamp of his pre-Lapland quasi-dance project, Baby. The resulting cognitive dissonance is one of WAND's greatest assets; the opening verse of "Make Me Hurt You" might be the most irresistibly catchy and unabashedly Classic Pop thing Wedren has ever recorded, but the song's titular chorus proves, uh, awkward to sing along with.
Thankfully, no such reservations are present in Wedren himself. The man seems to be having an absolute blast here; his mugging, cursing, strutting, cooing, and wailing make for the most exhilarating moments on WAND. At his best, Wedren spins incongruous-seeming sounds and gestures into shapely songs, buttressed by smart, lively arrangements. On WAND's weaker tracks, these arrangements seem to follow a logic of their own, building and shifting cleverly around songs that don't really stick. A lot of time (and, presumably, a lot of pent-up creativity) went into this record, but the best songs here feel as tight and spontaneous as Shudder to Think, even when the multi-tracked instrumentation is dense and meticulous.
Shudder to Think fans who were disappointed by the relative timidity of Lapland should find a lot to love about WAND. The bangers here are true goddamn bangers, and even the draggy stretches have their moments. But it would be unfair to call this a return to form. WAND builds upon aesthetics that Wedren has played with throughout his career, including the understated pop of Lapland. Taking the long view, the fact that WAND feels a bit overstuffed is more exciting than it is disappointing; 17 years after releasing a classic album, Craig Wedren could do a lot worse than some young man's problems.
