There are plenty of reasons to assume WILDERNESS is just another bunch of guys romancing the corpse of Ian Curtis: like Joy Division, they use loping bass lines, chiming guitar riffs, and mournful, plodding rhythms to create dreamy, minimal music. But they actually have more in common with the seminal postpunk band (and fellow Baltimoreans) Lungfish: long, unbroken songs that gently arc and stretch, guitar cadences that repeat like mantras, and peculiar, uninhibited singing. Wilderness’s instrumentation may be well plotted, but James Johnson’s voice is completely off the map. He empties his lungs like he’s a foghorn calling to shore, flat and without melody, attacking each line with the same seesaw phrasing. There are points when he could pass for a senile old man doing a John Lydon imitation circa Second Edition. His voice is likely to be the deal breaker for most folks, but in a time when guys who can’t sing tend to hide behind screamo scree or clipped disco pouting, it’s gratifying to hear someone who’s so unrepentant about making the most of what little he’s got. –Jessica Hopper
