GutterPutter

Introduction

On a certain subreddit called r/indieheads, there’s a big event going on where the community are incentivised to update what is called the Essentials Chart. Not necessarily made to be a recommendation list, the chart is supposed to represent the interests of the community and with that, there tends to be favouritism toward one record or the other. Votes in general tend to gravitate towards more popular or well-known works; albums like the Mountain Goats’ All Hail West Texas or Pixies’ Doolittle have a greater chance at gaining preference from listeners than Camera Obscura or Battles. It might not work at all times, but you can tell if a record is deemed ‘essential’ through the glowing comments that talks about whether it deserves to be added in.

I left a couple of comments on some of the entries that would’ve made into the finalised version on what the chart would look like and had some thoughts there. There are some albums that I consider to be either too niche in its influence, overshadowed in legacy by another contemporary, or even a bit overrated. There are albums that I find to be underappreciated, beloved, or impactful enough to warrant at least a bit of discussion around its inclusion. With how diverse the sounds can be within the realm of music, there’s bound to be omissions that would make one raise an eyebrow.

There are hundreds of albums and artists in the alternative, independent, or underground scene that have forever changed the general sounds of its main genre throughout the decades since the 1980s. Some, like Neutral Milk Hotel or Pavement, had forever left an impact on music. Others, like the Unicorns, are so unique in their characteristics that we’ve yet to see their artistry take its roots on others after they either retire or disband. The harsh world of music will mean that no matter how creative or distinctive you try to make your songs, there’s always a chance that you will be casted out. After all, what’s the point in signing someone up if they’re not going to draw in any attention whatsoever?

And then you have those like the Wrens. They might not be the most recognisable name nor are they the most legendary for their songs. Yet, when their work strikes at your heart, it strikes like nothing else in the whole world.

Background

The Wrens, having once been active from 1989 to 2021, once consisted of four members. Sharing the mantle of frontman, main songwriters, and co-leading vocals was veteran Charles Bissell and enthusiast Kevin Whelan who respectively focused on guitar and bass. Bissell had previously aspired to become a fully fledged music artist since around 1984 at the age of 20 although it’s with his time with the Wrens that he gets to experience the most amount of success (by a little). Meanwhile, Whelan had identified with the rough-edged punk scene although it’s until the band got their first taste of inspiration from Pixies that his style had shifted towards their dynamism. Kevin’s brother Greg would usually take the role of playing the second guitar within the band while Jerry MacDonald plays the drums. 

The band had its start in 1988 with the partnership between Charles and Kevin from a birthday meeting where the two shared with each other their aspirations for succeeding in their passion. However, it’s until the next year with Greg and Jerry’s invitation to join the two as an opening act for the Fixx (in a live gig that they drop out of) that the four had coalesced into Low. To avoid confusion with another, more successful slowcore act with the same name, they had changed name to the Wrens shortly after. Already rocky at the start, the four’s misfortunes would almost become something of an unintended brand that defines the Wrens and, later on before their disbandment, their downfall from cohesion. 

In the lead-up to 1993 where they finally got themselves signed up by a growing name called Grass Records, the Wrens grew a small reputation of being rebels. After moving in together at Secaucus, New Jersey, Charles and Jerry would spend their free time writing tongue-in-cheek letters to record label executives for a laugh. Even if it meant burning down a chance at stardom, the band was more than willing to give the authorities a middle finger just for fun. It’s right until a chance encounter with Camille Sciara, the main artist and repertoire (A&R) figure for Grass Records, that the band finally gets a chance to polish their songs up to release their debut album. That album is 1994’s Silver.

‘Broken’ – Silver and the Wrens’ Baseline

Tracks like ‘What’s a Girl’ or ‘William’ alludes to obsessive love and how it can destroy a person which comes in stark contrast with the next two albums’ resignation at lost love. Meanwhile, songs like ‘Darlin Darlin’ or ‘Adanoi’ feels like stream-of-consciousness experiments that fell flat on its feet in execution despite the interest in fitting in socially. While the long runtime and excessive fillers might dampen Silver’s potential, that doesn’t deter how poignant the highlights can get. A forlorn conclusion in ‘Strengthless / Decided Girl’ and ‘Broken’ wraps its head around anxiety and self-destruction. “Save me from myself / Just one more the feeling’s fading” goes the lo-fi vocals of Charles and Kevin like apparitions that failed to grow from being a boy to a man. With the eerie guitar riff in the end, we’re only left with the doubts around growing up as an adult in an indifferent world which syncs well with the emocore scene at the time. 

While Silver doesn’t break much ground, the Wrens had nonetheless received positive critical reactions even if many would agree that it’s an above-average record at best. Hopes still persist that the next album would be the four aspiring musicians’ breakthrough into the spotlight . On one fine day two years later in 1996, that wish happened to come like a devil in disguise. 

‘It’s Not Getting Any Good’ – Grass Record’s Rebranding and Secaucus

According to Kevin and one of Grass Record’s former artists and booker Joel Mark, the new label management tried to model the Wrens into conventional rockers rather than be given the chance to solidify their identities. In turn, while the purchase comes with better production quality that synergises well with the band’s sharpening skills in songwriting and lyricism, there’s greater pressure to strike diamond. Demands and edits were done to make the mixing of potential singles sound pleasing to the ears of many radio stations and make way for touring. Even if, according to Mark, signs point to how difficult such ordeals really were due to impossible demands from the executives, Meltzer remained stern in making the Wrens superstars. These background events and tensions informed much of the band’s sophomore effort in Secaucus.

Secaucus is, in many ways, thought of by many to be one of the most underrated records in the 1990s even by indie standards. While it managed to sell around 25,000 copies at the time of its release, later circumstances would see it be shelved with virtually no chance at any reissue whatsoever. As mentioned previously, Secaucus had taken much of the band’s traits up by a notch through more delicate production and insightful songwriting. On songs like ‘Dance the Midwest’ or ‘Jane Fakes a Hug’, there’s a greater emphasis on panning different layers of sound whether it be to build up on the cacophony or to elicit a non-linear story. The likes of ‘I’ve Made Enough Friends’ saw some brilliant use of synths which feels ethereal to the jangly riffs and suave basslines over one-night stands and bitter love lives.

Among some of my biggest favourites in the album, some of which had already reached my personal list of best songs, showcases well enough the versatility of the Wrens. ‘Built In Girls’ is among the catchiest for making full use of the production with well-spread backing vocal layers alongside Kevin’s cockiness in how he sings. ‘I Married Sonja’ calls back to the more post-hardcore background of the band with the abrupt cuts found in Silver, yet this rough-edged direction adds weight to the vivid account of escapism throughout the past. ‘Indie 500’ could be best described as a diss against Meltzer with its deliberately chaotic piano use, a chorus about taking a break from excessive work, and an allusion to a fairy tale in ‘The Emperor with No Clothes’. 

It’s as if it’s hindsight that the Wrens might well have always had an itching for their independence where they work on their songs however they want. Such a hint would cause a big fracture between Meltzer and the four which had not wavered the desire to push for success at all. The label owner would pester the band to sign a hefty contract that would surely make reality a full-time career in music. It was problematic however that the push for commercialisation would lead to rebuffing right until, during a tour date for promotion, Jerry MacDonald had asked if Meltzer could cover the rent for a month. Faced with either the need to sign the contract now or get booted off the label after the tour, the Wrens chose the latter. 

Meltzer would eventually change Grass Records to Wind-Up Records after laying off Sciara, Mark, and around 22 employees in the process of restructuring. Anecdotes believed that after letting the Wrens go, he said that he would make a star out of anyone who he would get to sign his contract to work in his label permanently. Indeed, Wind-Up Records would become something of a small empire in the mainstream music scene with constant commercial success throughout the late 1990s and much of the 2000s. However, reviews and critical thoughts around much of these sales tend to be mixed at best with much of the complaints being around the lack of genuine artistic merit. Among the targets of criticisms include Creed and Evanescence where, according to the latter’s lead singer Amy Lee, there too remains some dispute around the general direction of the music. Seems like Meltzer didn’t learn much from his issues with the Wrens.

‘I Guess We’re Done’ – Getting Away from Corporate Interests

What could’ve been a personal victory to the Wrens for standing up to their ideals was warped into a Sisyphean ordeal of finding a new label to call home. With whatever potential there was at making money consistently now having gone down the drain, there’s a great deal of pressure to be placed on the four members. Without the label, they had managed to release a couple of EPs and demos like 1997’s Abbott 1135 with help from former Grass Records employees. Having been married and with his growing family along the way, MacDonald had left the band house to focus on being a father.

At first, there were some lights at the end of the tunnel. One talent scout named Steve Ralbovsky, who worked for Interscope at the time and had previously signed the Dismemberment Plan in, was interested and had asked that the band demo some songs as a tryout. According to Kevin, initial feelings within the Wrens are sky-high in optimism with roughly 30 songs having been written and played. However, the A&R figure’s hopes had gradually withered over the lack of commercial potential. 

This would culminate in an infamous story where, based on Kevin’s account, the band had written and recorded one final song to see if Ralbovsky would finally get around to it. The song was, to put it mildly, one big middle finger to corporate expectations and lowered expectations in pursuing one’s dreams. With a not-so-subtle shot fired against Meltzer, Charles Bissell sang that “A V.P.’s faith / Is one single song” before admitting that he “can’t tell / A hit from hell / From one sing-along”. Such a demo leads to an official confirmation of rejection, shutting the door to becoming big names for the band. Ralbovsky would later move on to work with RCA Records a few years later where he signed the Strokes.

As a trophy to enjoy, their featured song was none other than one of the most acclaimed tracks in their discography called ‘This Boy is Exhausted’. Much like the defiance set by the song, all four members resolve to never let themselves be reliant on any record label or, as a matter of fact, even continue to naively pursue their dreams in music. Whatever signs of disillusion the band had previously alluded to in their past songs, the Wrens decide to make their brand be built around self-deprecation and earnest belief in making music as a part-time gig. To quote from Greg Whelan on this from Pitchfork, “We’re a bunch of old guys from Jersey. We’ll just put out records on our own time and if people like it, they like it.”

The decision to take their time with songwriting also forced three of the four members to consider pursuing a different career as a main job. Greg and Kevin would move on to work in office jobs for a pharmaceutical company while MacDonald became a part-time manager. Charles Bissell had settled down with marketing for a good while. 

Between 1999 and 2003, the Wrens had gone through a bit of a struggle in recording their next album. They might have given up on working in music as a full-time job, but they still want to enjoy creating new songs and release new albums if they can. Yet, between difficulties with getting the record released on their friends’ record label, a bout of writer’s block, and demotivation, recording and mixing proves to be moving at a considerably sluggish pace. When the process of making the album starts to pick up steam or has even been finished, the band celebrates it by burning its master tapes. Whether or not that might have delayed the release of the album is hard to say although Bissell doesn’t think that it’s that impactful.

Eventually, the record was finally prepped up for release in September 2003. The Wrens finally got in contact with a friend who runs a label called Absolutely Kosher Records who’s more than enthusiastic to cover for the band. With no strings or fingerprints on releasing the album, the band enjoys all the creative rights they have without the need to go over the commercial blueprint. They might not feel the drive to leave their job completely should the record be an unexpected success, but at least there’s a sense of pride to be had in releasing their third record. Here is however one fact about the release then. It would one day become one of New Jersey’s most beloved indie records. And its name is The Meadowlands.

‘This Is Not What You Had Planned’ – The Meadowlands

For those who might not personally know me, let me add a preface that The Meadowlands is one of, if not, my favourite albums of all time. Much of what I had discussed prior to this record are all key contexts that helped to inform the creation of the album. The general themes that the Wrens tend to cover, the flirtations made with the alternative genres in the 1990s, and the eventual anti-establishment/anti-corporate brand that the band had adopted goes out in full force here. What might look to be a simple indie rock album is instead revealed to be a kaleidoscopic array of many niche trends and movements, all grown from Bissell’s passion for crafting his songs. It’s not just an account of break-ups. It’s an odyssey of all the disappointments that come with adult life especially with going past your prime.

Starting with the nocturnal ‘The House That Guilt Built’ which reminisces on the could-haves of marriage (“Got a wife and kid / That I never see”), the ‘guilt’ comes from the squandering of youth. Unlike the other records, this one was sung by MacDonald who, given his family, would’ve felt torn between his commitments. The bitter reflection of being “nowhere near” one’s goals set the tone for the next track in ‘Happy’ which, ironic for its title, concerns itself with the dusting-off from a long-gone relationship. The gradual build-up from Kevin’s singing to being celebratory of being free as the instruments edges toward a crescendo of power chords and rampant drumming, signalling his successful escape from the break-up. When the climax comes along and the scintillating guitar riffs start to crash down, the vocals start to get washed away by the billowing sounds through the production. 

In turn, this leads to one of the key highlights within the album that is ‘She Sends Kisses’. This is among one of Bissell’s songs where he takes over the lead vocals where the instrumentation tends to be more diverse and the lyrical themes tend to be more nuanced. Here, he sang about his inability to move on from his short-term relationship with Beth Wawerna who was also a muse for some of their contemporaries’ songs including from Okkervil River. Narrating over the gradual disintegration of a long-distance love with another, he includes literary descriptions of the setting such as “Our shore town knockdown sure was fun” to create a sense of verisimilitude to his account.

‘This Boy is Exhausted’ had been re-recorded to substitute its slacker rock production in favour of a more Wall of Sound-esque implosion of harmonies, guitars, bass, horns, and drums. This emphasis gives a lot more life to the track in its anti-establishment tone through its power pop direction. Meanwhile, ‘Hopeless’ takes a shift down towards broken relationships like with ‘Happy’, yet its more upbeat performance and Kevin’s catchy singing makes for one glorious middle finger against any troublesome exes. If any one of these songs are a single under a more notable label, I do not rule out the possibility of it being played to death.

Meanwhile, the most punk-like rocker in ‘Faster Gun’ and a slowcore ballad in ‘Thirteen Grand’ puts into perspective the Wrens’ versatility. Even what would’ve been ‘fillers’ are, from my perspective, brutally infectious depictions of accepting change. While ‘Faster Gun’ combines ‘This Boy is Exhausted’’s exhilaration with a foregone acknowledgement of growing up outside of town. Meanwhile, ‘Thirteen Grand’ takes its vocals from Greg with a dream-like pondering of a lost love between different states with pianos and synths being used in a way that’s comparable to the Beatles even. That’s not to ignore ‘Boys, You Won’t’ which makes full use of Pixies’s signature loud-quiet dynamic to blur the lines between falling out of love and giving up on searching for big record labels. Kevin’s impassioned vocals especially takes the crown with his high note in the end.

Enter my favourite song from the album and perhaps one of my favourite of all time even – ‘Ex-Girl Collection’. The version that I had listened to was from the 2005 re-release that’s been played on YouTube. The original version that’s on the 2003 release was a noisy, garage rock sort of song where the instrumentation deliberately overshadows Bissell’s singing. The production that muddled up the vocals deter the surprisingly witty, even heartfelt tales of womanising and subtextual inability to move on from past affairs. The 2005 version, by contrast, goes all in with filling the song with as much synths and keyboards as possible to give a Wall of Sound-like density without overshadowing the jangly guitar riffs. Whatever lack of chorus there is, the harmonic “Why?” comes along like a truck that’s waiting for a response from the crowd. By the time you reach the final verse, you can’t help but vibe with Charles in his dissonant account on how one of his many relationships have ended. “Anne stands down / I think she thinks there’s still some ground to run manoeuvres around” is among my favourite lines for its slight-tongue twister and its subtle reveal that Charles, in his self-deprecating ways, is a bit of an unreliable narrator. Yet, such means little as for all the red flags there are, you can’t control yourself from loving the charisma throughout this song.

There’s also the borderline-shoegaze of ‘Per Second Second’ where the considerably hazy guitar works serve as camouflages of a Bonnie and Clyde-like tale that’s got a twist of a love triangle in there. Even if it’s among the least well-received compared to other tracks, I still love it thoroughly for its cryptic lyricisms and its dense instrumentation. ‘Everyone Choose Sides’ is among one of the numerous potential hit singles that mainstream record labels had somehow not wished to touch for its rough-edgeness. Yet, the chorus is among the most impactful and the intertwining guitars work seamlessly with one another to create one of the most hard-hitting rhythms that’s stuck in my head. The Wrens are not letting up on their potential before the emotional climax that is ‘Thirteen Months in Six Minutes’.

‘13 Months in 6 Minutes’ is among one of the band’s most beloved songs for a very, very good reason. Compared to the rest of the album that generally represents the internal problems that makes breaking up not as bad a problem as what one would’ve expected with humour and sarcasm (sans ‘She Sends Kisses’), this one is more vulnerable. Unlike the fast pace that dominates the punk-like tracks or the jangly power pop songs, this is the most overtly slowcore-like song in its structure with a serious punch in storytelling. Sung by Bissell, the narrative feels comparable with Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs. It’s not so much the very moment of the break up like with Secaucus’s ‘Jane Fakes a Hug’ as it is about the beginning of the relationship and its aftermaths. 

To hear the guitar be played at a slow tempo while Bissell learns that his ex will be moving to London, after what was shown to be an intimate and emotional relationship, is a sign that there’s no turning back. The lack of change in the song structure truly highlights the impossibility of having what one might see as ‘true love’ last forever. Everything comes to an end eventually oftentimes in a way that feels anticlimactic or even boring. Once the vocal aspect is over, listening to the instruments gradually wither down to just a repetitive three-note guitar line would’ve made you feel completely dead inside. Yet, the ending at the six-minute mark, when the instrumentation picks up to what one would call a snippet of Bissell’s imagination, is among the most gorgeous. It’s a very bitter, yet passionate, closure where we learn of a vague desire to revert all the decisions made especially with giving that one love a second chance. 

To quote the final track, “Something isn’t just quite how you had planned”. The Meadowlands is a rollercoaster of adrenaline highs in freedom and emotional lows in regrets. It gives off a regressive impression of letting the past linger in your mind for what might as well be forever. Yet, much of the content suggests otherwise that the band does expand on their music far beyond their power pop influences. It looks at heartbreaks and past mistakes in a nuanced, clever way that makes the two topics intertwined with the Wrens and their career trajectory. While some listeners now might have thought of it as being unexciting in its instrumentation or subject matters, I personally disagree otherwise. I feel that The Meadowlands is a perfect listen for those who are either starting their twenties off in university or for older young adults who are already contemplating the what-ifs. It’s a stinger of an album that will make you feel all sorts of emotion and it’s an experience that I might never forget ever since the first listen.

‘Three Types of Reading Ambiguity’ – Delays, Downfall, and Aeon Station

On paper, at the time of this blog post’s release, this should’ve been the ending of the band’s story. The Wrens had finally released a record after seven years’ worth of delay, there’s a lot of praise surrounding it including a glowing review from Pitchfork with a 9.5 and an A from Robert Christgau. Stories came out in the years after where many had claimed that The Meadowlands had left a significant impact on their music even if that mostly boils down to New Jersey’s local scene. Among the biggest includes Arcade Fire’s Funeral just under a year after and the starry-eyed outlook from Empty Country’s Joseph Ferocious whose artistry had shown clear homages to Charles’s and Kevin’s swagger. 

What should’ve been the fairy tale moment where all the misfortunes had changed towards the better was met with one problem. Charles Bissell had decided to leave his job behind to strike the iron and work as a full-time music artist with guitar teaching as his side gig. The rest of the band had decided to stick with their white-collar jobs otherwise. They still do go out to do concerts, tours, and some dripping of new songs, but the wanderlust for becoming full-time artists had truly slipped out of the three other members’ heads. They’ve moved on.

Even as drives to write the fourth record had persisted for a good while, all four members are struggling to find the time to collaborate with one another to get it done. Charles Bissell had finally gotten married as did Kevin and Greg, job promotions meant that less free time was available for all but Bissell to pop in for a recording session, the decision to move out of New Jersey only adds to the lack of time to work on the potential upcoming LP. Bissell, as self-honest to a fault as he can be, had developed a perfectionist streak where his tendency to self-criticise meant that he would ask for a re-record over and over again. He would self-produce songs to try and nail its atmosphere correctly only to put it in a dustbin as soon as feel that it could’ve been better. What was initially a bit of a quirk that the rest of the band might not mind would eventually develop into the main catalyst behind their downfall.

It’s not read by anyone at least according to the analytics, but this reminds me a lot about my post back in December 2021. About how the likes of the National had taken the initiative to leave their seemingly dull life behind to capitalise on their breakthrough before becoming one of the most notable names in indie rock. The Wrens finally struck gold with The Meadowlands, but they’re so assured in their anti-establishment views against record labels that they failed to use their success to leverage a contract with other names. They signed to Sub Pop which is among the most successful non-mainstream record labels in the US, yet there’s no ambition to show the doubters how wrong they are. Are they over with pursuing their musical ambitions? They might still love doing it, yet the aforementioned perfectionism and lack of noise shows a certain comfortableness with their lives for better or for worse. Whether they would either wish to avert that or not is ultimately up to them at the end of the day.

What was first a promise to try and balance music-writing with day jobs had instead become a bit of a development hell. While covers were made with songs from They Might Be Giant or self-made songs for collaboration projects, the Wrens kept silent about the release of their fourth LP. 6 years after The Meadowlands was released, an album was promised to be out only for there to be no news. 11 years after The Meadowlands was released, another promise was made only to be met with nothing. At least there’s news that they’re signed with a record label and that they have a limited single release of their song. I’ll say for a minute that it’s, based on the showing from YouTube, nothing short of utter brilliance. Oh, and Bissell had a battle with cancer but the problem was dealt with pretty quickly which is good news for certain.

You could only go so far with nailing every bit in your record before you could finally decide to put it out, So, what’s with the hold-up? In January of 2021, nearly 18 years after The Meadowlands was released, Bissell had announced in an interview with Uproxx that the album should finally, finally nearing the process of being completed. He said that he will try to get the rest of the band together to plan out what to do next now that the release is essentially imminent. Then, in September of the same year, the New York Times had finally revealed an update on the fourth LP. Charles and Kevin are still working at it. But they decide to do so separately. With a lot of quibbles over crediting, maybe some financial priority, and even vocal complaints on the endless delays. Yikes.

To cut to the chase, citing regrets over letting the fourth record be shelved indefinitely while Bissell tried to get it just right, Kevin had moved on to start his personal project called Aeon Station. While it’s largely a solo endeavour with mixing and production being handled as well, Greg and Jerry MacDonald had helped out with performing on some of the songs. Charles, for all his desires to make the Wrens’ potential next album the best as it can be, had worked on it for far too long as his bandmates’ patience had finally worn off. In retrospect, it feels like a funny, if pretty absent-minded, joke to enquire about with the phrase around the band, “Keeping fans waiting since 1989.” It’s impressive how long people are willing to wait for. 

‘Fade’ – Conclusion

In December 2021, Kevin finally beat Charles to the finishing line by releasing Observatory on the 10th. For a start, it’s a nice closure to enjoy. I, a fan who had long waited on the fourth LP for a good while since I started listening to the band, had thought of it as a bittersweet experience that shows that much of the record is still good. Fans who had long waited for it might well agree with the statement. Yet, there’s a certain magic that is clearly missing. As much of a problem as Charles’s perfectionism is, even the best of Observatory feels like it’s missing the one half that would often make the whole record transcendental. It doesn’t have the charm that makes the Wrens so beloved in the first place.

Right now, I’m waiting for Charles’s potential solo debut to come out. If his tweets are any indication, there should be a decent chance that he would make some noise around it in October. Of course, there’s still a chance that he might delay it just to polish his songs up a bit more and I’m not sure if the Whelan brothers and Jerry MacDonald would tune in for the update. What I can say at least is that I hope that there’s more projects from him in the future. Same for Aeon Station even if, after everything that had happened, Kevin would feel glad that he got closure with his musical ambitions. 

We can dally about with the what-ifs or the could-bes around the Wrens or the true extent of the band’s legacy. What is undeniable however is that even twenty years after The Meadowlands was released, several publications can’t help but heap praise to it. Stereogum thought that it’s one of the very best records in showcasing the fears of failing, succeeding, or regretting past decisions. Brooklyn Vegan hails the synergistic coordination between Kevin and Charles’s songwriting with detailed accounts on why each song works as well as they did. While it might not have been the most detailed to say the least, Magnet Magazine’s thoughts on the album remained as strong as ever with props given to the enduring drive all four members had gone through to finish it. 

It might not be the most successful record of all time. It might not be the most influential record of all time. It might not even be the most recognisable record to have come out of New Jersey’s independent scene. Yet, The Meadowlands might well remain as one of, if not, my favourite albums of all time. Ever since 2020 when I was an undergraduate on my first year, I always find myself itching to give it a spin every once in a while. Its charm had never worn out on me as I found myself relating to a lot of what was said. If you haven’t listened to it before, I strongly recommend that you go check it out. It might be an experience that you might never forget as you grow older.