"You want to know me? Well, what's to know?" asks Jack Tatum on the title track of Wild Nothing's Nocturne. The album's subtly addictive nature is such that only after a dozen listens did this anti-revelation strike me as its most revealing lyric. Tatum really does view himself as a facilitator. He drove that point home during our interview last month, debunking any attempts made in the past two years to classify him as a "personality." This seems self-defeating for a guy who works in a style of lovelorn, Anglophilic indie rock that never goes in style because it never really goes out of style, and tends to favor extreme recluses or extroverts for its breakout artists. Fortunately, Nocturne distinguishes itself from the perrennial crowd of dream-pop nostalgists for the same reason Wild Nothing's 2010 debut Gemini did: Tatum is simply one of the best songwriters in this field, and Nocturne's significant upgrade in fidelity makes that point more clearly than ever.
Whether it's better than Gemini or its EP follow-up, Golden Haze, only matters in the event you have room for just one Wild Nothing album in your life, and you probably shouldn't limit yourself. It's hard to imagine anyone who dug Gemini jumping ship here-- Nocturne is a richer, comparatively luxurious listening experience, but it doesn't sound flashy or ostentatious. Even while recording with one of Brooklyn's classiest sonic interior decorators in Nicolas Vernhes, Tatum granted himself only basic amenities-- live strings, a human drummer, better microphones.
Nocturne is painted with the same colors as Gemini, but the resolution is much higher. When the songs on Gemini wanted to convey vitality or physicality, they were charmingly ramshackle, stuffed with busy drum machines and insistently strummed guitar. If Nocturne wants for anything, it's the sense of immediacy that marked highlights such as "Chinatown" and "Summer Holiday". This record is more about craftsmanship. Lead singles "Shadow" and "Paradise" feel newly urgent in a holistic way, going places Tatum couldn't access in his Blacksburg dorm room two years ago. "Shadow" allows itself brief asides between verses to let those lustrous strings moan and swoon, "Paradise" interrupts its glistening downer-disco for an indulgent ambient build-up. The full-bodied sound means the softer side of Nocturne gets fleshier too. Gemini relied on reverb to convey texture and depth, and while there's still plenty on "Through the Grass", the rhythmic complexity of the song's delicate, interwoven arrangement plays a bigger role in making it one of the loveliest thing to be done with guitars this year.