Wild Colonials Bring Passion to Life

By Beth Winegarner

Every so often a band comes along who makes you rethink your view about music. Some groups, like the Beatles or Nine Inch Nails or Nirvana, brought down so many walls that whole genres were created around their names. Others broaden the definitions of those genres, playing with sounds and instruments in a way their peers hadn't considered. But a few bands -- though they may seem to fall under one category or another to start with -- allow their songs to unfold in such a way that you realize genres don't really exist at all.

Wild Colonials is one of those bands. At first taste many people could easily toss them in with all the other "Celtic rock" bands proliferating like weeds. Their dark-haired pixieish singer, Angela McCluskey, might call to mind the Cranberries' Dolores O'Riordan; their adherence to Irish-inflected fiddle might invite comparison to some of the Chieftains' recent works. And their experimentation with jazz and blues might imply they're trying to ride in on the coattails of U2. But Wild Colonials would have none of it; few, if any, bands sound like this one.

With their second release, This Can't Be Life, Wild Colonials solidify the sound they have pursued since their first album, 1994's Fruit of Life. It is a mixture of rock and folk, country and blues, jazz and Celtic trad, soul and showtunes. But it is none of these things, because it is the way the group puts these elements together which makes it unique.

This Can't Be Life opens with a nod to traditional folk-pop in "This Misery" -- a four-beat, thoughtful bass melody. But then comes the first sweep of Paul Cantelon's violin, its pensive tremolo an element which has come to define the band's sound. McCluskey's dark, bluesy vocals enter next with the first yearning lines: "I watch your sad blue eyes light up/ It's Friday night get all dolled up/And tonight/Maybe you'll meet your man." The band pins down the moment in a tangle of wishfulness, wistfulness and self-resignation, capturing complex emotions as few musicians know how.

Not that the Colonials aren't skilled popsters. Their first single, "Charm," is one of the catchiest tunes since the Gin Blossoms' "Hey Jealousy" with McCluskey's lyric about waking up from a bad relationship and Cantelon's spastic-fiddle riff. And "Coy," a tune about a young man who covers up difficult emotions with charm and smiles, rocks with its frustrated chorus while the verses creep up slowly behind.

On other tunes, the group plays a more rootsy and, at moments, dramatic role. On "Wake Up Sad," contemplative vibraphone and Thaddeus Corea's (son of Chick Corea) brushed snare set the scene for McCluskey's sultry, jazzed-up vocal. Multitalented bandmate Scott Roewe's saxophone is like a mournful breath, longing and seductive at once. Surprisingly, the fiddle-crashed chorus sounds right at home. On "Spirit," the band turns in a haunting performance with slow violin, didgeridoo and underwater-sounding drums as Rickie Lee Jones lends backing vocals.

Later tracks are equally as dramatic, but with more of a cathartic feel; "Want" starts slowly, pennywhistle and drums building tension before the old country-and-western feel of the bridge. The lyrics here are some of the most beautiful on the album: "Throwing her hair back, without all the pain/ I broke like a stick in the pale morning rain/ I'll always be with you, don't think I won't" -- the last line serves as both loving promise and biting threat. Likewise, "If" warns, "If you don't love me, someone will" as rhythms and vocals build thematic tension behind McCluskey's voice.

The musicians who make up Wild Colonials are true talents, although most of them are playing their secondary instruments. For instance, Cantelon started out playing piano but chose the violin because of its portability -- and he positively rips through these songs, performing dizzying melodies of unparalleled passion and strength. Corea's drumming is likewise powerful, sometimes tribal, other times subtle. Guitarist Shark, who as first a drummer, has a keen sense of tempo in his work and his guitar is almost a rhythmic backdrop as Cantelon takes the lead. Roewe plays every instrument imaginable on this record (and a few unimaginables), including melodica, organ, bass, clarinet and Wurlitzer, adding unique textures to this already-bursting quintet.

The band is not without its faults. Some of the songs tend to sound the same after a while, and McCluskey's lyrics can be clumsy, trading good metaphors for the rhyme, but she overcomes most of that clumsiness with her throaty delivery. Ultimately the songs on This Can't Be Life are brimming with self-awareness, encouraging listeners to look at their lives and be honest with themselves. "Lying awake in the dead of the night/I'm seeing my life and it's not looking right/I'm freezing to death in the warmth of your arms/Wasting my charm," McCluskey sings in "Charm." But the charm of the Wild Colonials is only beginning to shine through these in-between times of music, and they have the skill to burn a hole in the rock and roll sky.

This article was originally published in Addicted to Noise.