Wavves - Afraid of Heights
A thought experiment:
Assume for a second that reincarnation is literally true, and that upon his death in 1994, Kurt Cobain did not in fact attain nirvana (get it?) but was instead reincarnated into a new person. Assuming soul turnaround time within this hypothetical scenario is fairly quick (I have to confess a decent amount of ignorance on most doctrines of reincarnation, but Live's "Lightning Crashes" at least led me to believe that it was fairly instantaneous), that new person would have entered young adulthood by now (the 19th anniversary of Cobain's death is this April 5).
In other words, he or she would be just entering an age where were they so inclined, their artistic ethos would begin manifesting itself. Now (and I'm fairly certain this is not a part of reincarnation), what if this young person had the exact same angst, the exact same alienation, and the exact same need for self-expression that Cobain had? What if he or she similarly turned to music to address those issues? If Kurt Cobain was born in 1994, what would his band sound like today?
I won't presume to definitively know the answer to that question - it probably merits its own article's worth of consideration, or at least a good protracted drunken argument with a few friends - but one thing that seems quite likely is that this hypothetical band would sound quite different than Nirvana sounded on
Nevermind. They likely would not detune their guitars, they likely wouldn't fall into what we classify as grunge, and they likely wouldn't rely heavily on soft-loud-soft song structures (at least not as much as
Nevermind did). True, the next Nirvana won't sound like Nirvana because the public craves uniqueness (or at least the appearance of uniqueness) within its cultural phenomenons, but perhaps more importantly, the next Nirvana won't sound like Nirvana because the sonic blueprint they established will not be sufficient for the next iterations of Kurt Cobain.
I bring this thought experiment up because it seems to suggest two fairly self-evident truths that apply to the new album by Wavves released tomorrow entitled
Afraid of Heights, which owes a huge debt to Cobain and Nirvana. The first is that a band's impact is more than the sum of the notes they play on albums or in concert, i.e. The "Even When They Say It's All About the Music, It's Never All About the Music" Theory. The second, related truth is that context always matters.
Wavves itself has a fairly interesting context. Formed in 2008 in San Diego by notable slacker Nathan Williams, Wavves garnered a great deal of buzz at an incredibly early point in the band's history from hundreds of music critics whose opinions I don't respect and one or two whose opinions I do. Before I had listened to a single note of theirs, I was familiar with Wavves as a hipster band: there was the aforementioned early buzz from places like Pitchfork, the name itself (and perhaps even more annoyingly, the fact that one of their albums is called
Wavves and another
Wavvves), Williams's public relationship with Best Coast's Bethany Cosentino, and there was Williams's projected indifference to just about any and everything. Wavves acted more or less like you would expect a hipper-than-thou band to act.