ALBUM REVIEW

 Wynona makes music that plays with ingredients that have been around since the birth of guitar rock as we know it. With its air-guitarable melodies, Wynona has roots in the kind of music our dads reminisce about listening to in their trippy young adulthood. This is guitar rock your dad would enjoy, but that doesn’t make it any less enjoyable.

 

From the outset of their EP Death is an Ocean, it’s clear the band has a lot going for it; chops, atmosphere, and a strong, rearward-looking vision. The title song (which serves as album intro) starts off as a subdued lullaby before a rolling bass line transports the tune to a time when sunny coastline drives in drop-top convertibles weren’t a cliché.

 

This imagery stems from the songs’ airiness. But listen again, and that airiness is only a ruse; a darkness lies beneath the easy surface. Singer Rob Joyce plays with themes of dissolution in his lyrics. Whether it’s the unending ocean, train tracks that disappear in the horizon, or the blackness of our pupils, the songs are occupied with the idea of separation by voids. Not exactly unheard of subject matter, and it occasionally descends into nonsense. But what he sings is less important than how he sings it, and despite the sad subject matter, he sings it with more than enough conviction to make the sentiment universal.

 

The strongest through line connecting Wynona to bands from the “good ol’ days” lies in two components: first, the intricate guitar work by Joyce and John Wilhelm. The jangly lines throughout the four songs trickle and stick to the ears like honey.  Bassist Larson Lind and drummer Connor Novotny lay a solid foundation for the guitarists to explore every nook and cranny of their melodies. There’s a sense of patience to their songwriting here that’s easy to take for granted. The shortest song comes in at a hair under four minutes, but none feel overlong, and the drive of the guitars serves the songs rather than drowning them.

 

Second is Joyce’s voice. Oh, that voice. Joyce has a set of pipes that can croon and wail, swell and dive with equal fervor. It’s exhilarating to listen to, and can stand the hairs on your arms on end. Kaleb Richey at Bummerman Studios did well to put the vocals highest in the mix, as they carry the listener through the songs with the gentle strength of a handsome lifeguard saving you from the pummeling waves of guitar and drums. Every song feels like a showcase. Take “Silent Memory”; Joyce begins the song with a quiet, fragile murmur, but with each phrase builds his voice in strength and confidence. At the crest of the song, he lets loose with howls of “Who are you” like the suavest of wolves. It’s real good, is what I’m saying.

While Death is an Ocean feels complete, it also comes across like a pilot episode. It’s more curious than ambitious, like an exploration of what the band wants to do. By the end of the epic three-act closer “Offer Up”, what they want to do is not a question that has been answered. But it’s an easy bet that whatever it is, it’ll be pretty damn great.