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Alternative country has spread through the indie-rock sphere like a wildfire. With artists like Ryan Davis & The Roadhouse Band, Wednesday and MJ Lenderman moving to the forefront, it’s no surprise that twang has extended its reach into Milwaukee.
The city's folk-punk roots have given way to melancholic doom riffs, whose wall of sound-esque vibrations shudder the mind in Waterspout’s new single “Landscape.”
The band consists of longtime Milwaukee artists Jack Lange and Keegan Phillips on vocals and guitar, Julia Derby on keys, Henry Dunsirn on drums, and Jack Lusk on bass. The group has curated a sound that backs modern Americana with a post-hardcore flare that’s inherently a slugfest. “Landscape” exists in a dark corner of alt-country, stretching the twang to its limits.
The song is experimental in a concerted way, starting with a glowing blend of bright guitars, keys and a solid drum groove that never leaves the pocket. Lusk’s bass sits at this low growl underneath all the light, acting as the only hint of what’s to come. Lange and Phillips' dual vocals work through a discordant but addictive harmony, moving through each line in tandem and slowly guiding the listener to the sludge.
“Landscape” offers a consistent march — or what Lange and Phillips describe as a “pilgrimage to nowhere but an early grave.” Derby’s keys hold your hand as you peer over the edge, providing a twinkle of respite that gets torn apart by a slam-dancing breakdown.
When coming up with the song, the band was inspired by the Black Paintings from Francisco Goya, an esteemed Spanish painter who locked himself in his house near the end of his life and painted on his walls until he died. The song reflects Goya’s almost sick introspection into his life — a brutal excavation of the mind that fills the creator with guilt for a life of suffering.
Twisted faces strange
Though I’m deaf I hear their cry
They call out to me
Barking and devouring
Their only sons
Survivors' guilt and the internalization of it is a big theme emanating from the lyrics. The band pushes this notion of a person reconciling with the fact that they’re all that's left and asking what good can possibly come from that.
Hack away the paint from the frame
I’m just a dog beneath the waves
These were meant to rot, and waste away
The instrumentation pushes the lyrics to the internal point of no return, reflecting the idea of a person's suffering being the inspiration for art as they fail to grasp whether it’s therapeutic or self-indulgent. Goya’s paintings weren’t meant to be seen, so they represent a naked look into the psyche of an individual at their rawest.
The breakdown is the nugget of the entire song — a tidal wave that shatters a delicate consciousness into a mess of self-loathing. The rhythm section chugs along a brutal groove that coincides with an ear-splitting back and forth between the guitars, harkening back to My Bloody Valentine. To top off the chaos, the keys transform into a church organ that dances around the fuzz and sits just out of reach.
Waterspout manage to tap into the blanket darkness of the mind with a noisy edge that makes you sit with the reality of what it means to truly suffer.
Jonathan Joseph is a Milwaukee-based multimedia freelance journalist who specializes in art and culture writing (and all things Milwaukee), with work appearing on Radio Milwaukee and in Milwaukee Magazine. Contact him via email or find him on LinkedIn.