Send "Wild Light " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Popmatters |
 The realm of Indie Pop (capitalization intended) is a mystical place. There are the usual nymphs and faeries, goblins and ghouls, sorcerers and witches. Some boys sound like girls; some girls sound like robots; and some machines sound like both. It’s also a peaceful place, for the most part: Harsh words get thrown like a javelin only when accompanied with a tear and a wink, and no one stays mad for long. Indie Pop is Canada without the cold; Sweden without the cold; and Holland without the, er, well ... okay, it’s basically Holland. Like giant statues of Stalin during Soviet times, monuments exist throughout Indie Pop, dedicated to the greats: a huge sculpture of Brian Wilson’s hands, a genetically enlarged and plasticized locket of Elliot Smith’s hair and a bust, created out of a lump of coal, of Stephin Merritt. Amazon Lala The atmosphere in Indie Pop is composed mainly of helium and whispers. In the streets, you can always hear the faint murmur of acoustic guitar subtlety layered with strings and a glockenspiel. Most of the time, when people speak, their voices are underscored by sunshiny harmonies. In place of the usual parliamentary or congressional system, Indie Pop rules with a corduroy fist by the musicians. Belle and Sebastian control a borough, as does the New Pornographers. And, of course, don’t forget Sufjan Stevensville, an odd cross between rural Illinois and urban Michigan. Go figure. And now, ladies and gentlemen: Wild Light, a band from New Hampshire—of all places—has been deemed fit to represent all of Indie Pop. Based solely on Wild Light’s debut album, Adult Nights, which, while having a truly awful title, serves as a solid Reader’s Digest version of the last ten ears in Indie Pop. Pastoral brilliance of the Magnetic Fields and Matt Pond PA? Check. Playful harmonies of Stars and Fleet Foxes? You bet. Quirky disco pop of MGMT and Cut Copy? Definitely. Nonsensical lyrics of, well, everyone? Hell yeah. As can be inferred from this description, Adult Nights proves an extremely uneven work. But then again, the last decade in Indie Pop classifies as anything but even....full text |
| Billboard |
| One thought-provoking knockout anthem after another marks the uplifting debut by this New Hampshire quartet. Multi-instrumentalist Timothy Kyle and singer/guitarist Jordan Alexander had been in bands since grade school; Alexander was the Exeter roommate of Win Butler, Kyle was in an early edition of Butler's Arcade Fire. Both bands share a fondness for grand ambition: melodic songs with broad crescendos and resonant lyrics. (They've also shared stages: Wild Light has opened for Arcade Fire on a few tours.) Each song is anchored by a strong sense of place and a provocative point of view. Check out four generations of family and a mystery in "New Hampshire," the cinematic "Lawless River," the melodic intricacy of Coldplay in "Future Towns," skepticism in the bounteously beautiful "California on My Mind." The best singalong line belongs to the song "Canyon City" in which it's almost impossible to hold back from joining Wild Light in a rousing chorus that begins: "We're going back . . . to the womb!" —Wayne Robins...full text |
| Avclub |
| The band is called Wild Light, and the first song off its debut album, Adult Nights, features the chorus “Fuck today / fuck San Francisco / fuck California.” But beyond that, there’s nothing especially rowdy or rebellious about this New Hampshire alt-rock quartet. Adult Nights is full of hooky, guitar-driven pop songs that land halfway between the roiling mythmaking of The Arcade Fire and The Decemberists, and the minimalist art-pop of Vampire Weekend and The Rosebuds. Wild Light favors soaring harmonies and songs about beaches and canyons. Adult Nights is sweet and upbeat—so relentlessly so that at times it comes off as a little facile. But it’s hard to discount the can’t-dislodge-it-from-the-head catchiness of songs like “Call Home,” or the cut-to-the-quick self-definition of “New Hampshire,” which cheerily ties generations of regional entrenchment to an accident of fate. ...full text |
Wild Light lyrics
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