The Ontario-born singer-songwriter Tony Dekker has always relied on natural forms as the foundations for the metaphors, conceits, and imagery he uses in the songs of Great Lake Swimmers. His lyrics evoke a mountain range as a lover's spine and a river's edge as a place of spiritual reckoning, subtly chronicling the epic geological changes that mirror immense human emotions. Mountains shift, rivers cut canyons, hearts yearn and break. That idea of transience and flux extends to the band itself. Just as Great Lake Swimmers have recorded in unusual spots over the past 10 years-- in an abandoned grain silo, deep within the remote Thousand Islands region of Ontario-- the group has changed and shifted with each album, although it has always remained centered on Dekker.
New Wild Everywhere, their fifth record in a decade, not only introduces a semi-permanent quintet that includes two long-time collaborators, but marks the first time the Swimmers have recorded in a proper studio. The new lineup is more agile than previous incarnations, introducing flourishes of country and bluegrass into Dekker's naturalistic folk and creating a larger canvas for his landscapes. And yet, there's something missing here. Perhaps it's the outdoors, which on previous albums has come across more as a charming backstory than as an identifiable sonic element. In the relatively staid environment of an actual studio, however, they've made their weakest record to date, one that lacks the subtle power and distinctive personality of their best work.
Slower songs like "Cornflower Blue" and "The Knife" sound wan and maudlin; the gravity that Great Lake Swimmers easily captured on their debut and Ongiara has been replaced with a drab dreariness. But as the title suggests, the emphasis is squarely on more upbeat numbers-- wild by Great Lake Swimmers standards. The band too often strains for exuberance, as on the title track, a sort of geological party rock anthem. "Rocks jump and jitter," Dekker sings. "The weather breaks, the spirit shakes, and something switches on." That kinetic imagery is undercut by Dekker's ungainly melody and the awkward interruptions of electric guitar in the chorus. The song nods at celebration, but never quite achieves that tone.
It's hard to say whether or not this is the fault of the new line-up, although Dekker does trip over his own heady lyrics on "Fields of Progeny" and "Ballad of a Fisherman's Wife". Lines like, "This is a time bomb, and it could happen right here," sound like they're one or two drafts away from being finished. It's taken the band four years to follow up Lost Channels, but New Wild Everywhere sounds hastily assembled. There are moments when they get everything right-- the subtle doo-wop flourish that gives opener "Think That You Might Be Wrong" its buoyancy, the loping melody that lends "The Great Exhale" its gravity-- but they're too few and far between. Great Lake Swimmers are at their liveliest when they've got dirt under their nails and mud on their clothes, and they clean up too well on New Wild Everywhere.
