Weaves's Wide Open was released well over a half-decade ago, and listening to it now, it feels like a time capsule of some trends that seemed enduring at the time but appear merely ephemeral upon reflection. The elastic melodies and strong rhythmic cohesion were mainstains within the indie genre at the time- as were the agitating angular chord progressions. The blogger-driven era of 2007-2017 was a particularly nauseating period in music journalism when just about any group could be labeled as a "disco-Gang of Four," and unfortunately, it would stick (much to the confusion of artists and audiences alike). Weaves could certainly get stuck with the label as well, although, if memory serves, they did end up dodging that particular trope. Something else that feels reminiscent of the late '10s era of indie rock is the tendency of singers to draw out the pronunciation of certain phrases only to jerk them back with a shriek as they switch keys or tempo- you can call this the "Karen O" curl, and it's certainly a style of singing that vocalist Jasmyn Burke is adept at. While a lot about Wide Open feels dated, it's also a record that positions itself against trends and stands as a conclusive statement by an evolving artist. It feels like the band was trying to capture a certain disposition within the American zeitgeist that might still be inchoate to this day- a kind of opposition within oppositions, a fear that only the proud know, and a mirror that you can only reflect back your image when you are facing away from it. There is an authentic, anthemic quality to these tracks that is inseparably rooted in the experience of common people, with lyrics that express a zeal for connection and truth in a world that can only offer alienation, isolation, and bureaucratic rebuff- a conclusion that is helped along by numerous inclusions of lap steal, big bluesy guitars, and other staple folky accouterments but also the way that the harmonies swell and then bust into a flood of exuberant emotions in a human cloudburst. It's reminiscent of the kind of animation and energy that a gospel choir may employ to fill the faithful in attendance with the hope of a sanctifying spirit, but in the context of a rock band like Weaves, this kind of catharsis takes the shape of burly balladry and robust, grit-sown rhapsodies in the vein of Bob Seger or Tom Petty- hooks and harmonies that heal the heart and salvage the soul. It might be the case that Wide Open is too conclusive of a statement of the band's identity and their feelings about the world, and that's why we haven't seen another record from them since. This is alright because their prescience still strikes as piercing and true, even in a world that is drastically different from the one in which the record emerged.
