Wellington band Womb 'more majestically sad than ever' on third album

It’s been 10 years since Te Whanganui-a-Tara sibling band Womb released their self-titled debut EP, and since then they’ve ploughed a similar furrow of majestically sad, slow songs. The mood has stayed largely the same, while honing aesthetically and broadening in scope. Listening chronologically is like watching something slowly come into focus.

Press materials around this release mention its title being influenced by American poet Ocean Vuong, and its cover by Swedish artist Hilma af Klint. Womb are inspired by capital-A art, and want to make the same, but do so within 3-4 minute songs.

When I reviewed their last album, I described it as pop music in slow motion, and that’s maybe more apt this time. They’ve always aimed for the heart, and these songs show their way with emotional crescendos is sharper than ever.

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Over three albums they’ve moved toward a sort of ecstatic haze, where each instrument and voice bleeds into the next. Not so much a wall of noise as a wall of feelings. Womb were always a distinct act, but this album is newly impressive in its ability to transport you elsewhere.

The band Animal Collective began with dense layers of percussion and battered acoustics, vocalists Avey Tare and Panda Bear staccato-chirping in amongst them.

Over the years a more accessible version of the band peeked through, and Panda Bear (real name Noah Lennox) made his own stylistic pivot on 2007’s Person Pitch. He credited its sunny harmonies to his new home of Portugal, where he moved in 2004 and has stayed ever since.

Sinister Grift is his latest, and maybe most listener-friendly, but that title tips you off: everything isn’t roses, despite the abundance of cheerful tunes.

He told GQ magazine about going through a very dark patch (including a divorce), and near the end of the album its tone shifts into something much more sober, before a resolute final track (‘Defense’), signals some hope for the future.

Much of his solo work (and collaboration with Sonic Boom on 2022’s Reset) was based around samples, but here he had a simple setup of bass, guitar, and drums. What’s remarkable is how he uses that to channel music from an earlier time, while still sounding like no one else.

Eddie Chacon’s late career pivot continues in fine form on his third solo album. He already had a diverse background, going from playing in a garage band with future members of Faith No More and Metallica, to chart success in the ‘90s as one half of Charles and Eddie, best known for their hit ‘Would I Lie to You’.

After a stint as creative director and photographer, Chacon came back to music with 2020’s Pleasure, Joy, and Happiness. His third solo outing continues a run of minimalist RnB jams, assisted this time by Nick Hakim’s trademark gritty production.

The shadow of Eddie Chacon’s late mother hangs over Lay Low. He told Clash magazine it concerns “the melancholy, sadness and ultimately the healing” following her death. The cheerful ‘Empire’ emerges as something of an anomaly, while other songs like the title track and ‘If I Ever Let You Go’ toe a line between grief and acceptance.

Learning to live with loss is one of life’s great lessons, and it’s that mature perspective, coupled with a smoky RnB sensibility, that make Chacon’s new music worth returning to.

Tony Stamp reviews the latest album releases every week on The Sampler.