When you've already released arguably the best debut album of 2010 the only way is down, right? Wrong. For Jack Tatum, the creator and songwriting force behind Wild Nothing, it seems 'Gemini' was just a mere appetiser for things to come. While that record's fragile beauty recalled the halcyon days of The Field Mice or The Cure's more salient pop sojourns, the three track stop-gap EP 'Evertide', released earlier this summer, suggested he'd merely tipped the iceberg with its predecessor, having added a touch of electronica and melodic shoegaze to an already sensual melting pot of influences.
'Golden Haze' collects those three excerpts from 'Evertide', the title track being one, and marries them with three other new compositions all of which further illustrate Tatum's diverse array of influences, while highlighting his own blossoming talent in the process. Where the lead song actually fits onto the end of 'Gemini' like a trailer for a sequel to a blockbuster movie, its lyrical content seemingly detailing an unrequited love story as its composer frequently makes reference to his 'beautiful one', the deceptively tranquil 'Quiet Hours' and na
The New Order-esque overtones of 'Take Me In' will be familiar to those in possession of the aforementioned 'Evertide', as will 'Your Rabbit Feet''s winsome melancholia. Better still however is the closing 'Vultures Like Lovers', a reverb heavy pop song that sounds both complex due its layered arrangements proffering every component from the vocals down yet simplistic in the way Tatum conveys his innermost thoughts with such effortless poise.
While there's every chance that like Bob Wratten or Phil Wilson - both sadly underrated by the masses yet hugely inspirational to budding songwriters on both sides of the pond - before him, Jack Tatum might not covet the commercial success his already superlative musings deserve, he can at least be proud of the fact that in 2010 he has almost single-handedly carried the torch for a guitar-orientated indie scene increasingly in danger of disappearing in a pile of its own faeces.
Whatever the future holds for Wild Nothing, and on this evidence it's a dazzlingly bright one, the present feels like an insatiably perfect place to be. Flawless in almost every way.