Send "Wild Flag " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Spin |
 Has there really never been an all-female, indie-rock all-star band before Wild Flag? They're late, it's true, but also right on time. They arrive just as everyone is working out some major romantic nostalgia for those Clintonian grunge '90s, which initially greeted singer-guitarists Carrie Brownstein and Mary Timony as post-teen riot grrrls destroying the underground with their first bands (Excuse 17 and Autoclave, respectively), back when women were still trying to prove they belonged up onstage at all. But now, thanks in large part to the absence of their biggest bands (Sleater-Kinney for Brownstein and Helium for Timony), the stage feels empty without them. The self-titled debut of Wild Flag -- which includes Sleater-Kinney drummer Janet Weiss and keyboardist Rebecca Cole (ex of Elephant 6 band the Minders) -- aims to make all that history irrelevant. Yes, even for those of you who fell into a summer-long, depressive K-hole in the wake of Sleater-Kinney's 2006 split, prepare to fall in love again. And if you never loved that band in the first place (yes, we exist), appreciating Brownstein's voice, but not in tandem with Corin Tucker's bleat, prepare to fall in love for the first time. Given the history here, it'd be reasonable to expect a "mature" rock record from this quartet, or at least a few of the bittersweet lamentations mandatory for all ex-punks pushing 40 (call it "Wilco syndrome"). Instead, Wild Flag offers odes to volume and youth ("Romance," "Future Crimes"), suggesting the barely contained frenzy of teenagers. It's all the fury you want, but executed with the capability and confidence of lifers. Timony is the real revelation here. She's always boasted a distinctive sound and style -- heavy fuzz undercut by sighs of unexpected melody -- but her post-Helium solo career gradually revealed more and more of her inner shredder, which fuels Wild Flag's dynamic chemistry. Brownstein's style is all punk basement burner -- single-note runs and urgent, shunted rhythm -- freeing Timony to unapologetically riff. She blazes on, under, and through every song, trading overdriven leads with her new cohort. It's a genuine twin-guitar magic best exemplified by the second half of "Glass Tambourine": Cole's burbling electric-piano lead quickly morphs as the two guitarists dive deep into a psychedelic bliss-out, distortion pedals dialed to ten, a-chooglin' in the hot scuzz. Wild Flag is also influenced by plenty of bands these women haven't populated themselves. The way Brownstein's blunt guitar lines and Timony's winding leads play off and against each other, before synchronizing and exploding in the choruses of "Future Crimes" and "Short Version," recalls the classic interplay of Fugazi, another indie all-star quartet with essential, distinctive components. Brownstein offers a wonderful echo of Patti Smith, her voice hiccupping and reckless and rising in rage as she howls, "If you a want a pretty picture / You better look away." Timony sings with shades of Chrissie Hynde's elegant restraint, though the album's showier guitar work owes more to Pretenders guitarist James Honeyman Scott....full text |
| Popmatters |
| Being dubbed a supergroup isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, not when what you’re doing in the here and now can’t quite escape the overblown expectations that come with rose-tinted nostalgia. That’s a little of what all-star combo Wild Flag has been up against since it announced its existence over a year ago, though this is one, um, supergroup that has more than a fighting chance to stand on its own merits. The product of Sleater-Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein and Janet Weiss joining forces with Helium’s Mary Timony, Wild Flag has a lot going for it, not only because the principals have pretty much always delivered, but also due to the fact that the band isn’t resting on any laurels, gigging regularly and working hard on original material during its short time together. So, even though the quartet, rounded out by the Minders’ Rebecca Cole, could easily get by on reputation and legacy alone, Wild Flag is anything but a vanity act, not settling for the default options of being the closest thing to a Sleater-Kinney redux or a revitalized Helium. While a storied lineage is one thing, it doesn’t guarantee that there’s the right chemistry between all the parties involved, no matter how illustrious the players are. Sure, a good part of camaraderie is intangible—either you have it or you don’t—but a lot of what goes into a winning formula is also earned and learned over time. Indeed, you could say that the self-titled debut reflects the process of the members getting to know each other in a working relationship, starting out a bit tentatively as they feel out the situation before hitting their stride as a unit unto itself. In effect, Wild Flag begins like a work-in-progress, but develops into a total package with time-lapse speed over the course of the album, as the band figures out how to forge an identity on the fly before you know it. That said, Wild Flag does deal with some growing pains at the beginning of the album, as Brownstein and Timony take turns in the frontwoman role through the first half of the album. Leadoff number “Romance” makes an auspicious first impression, kicking into gear with Brownstein as bold as ever with her signature slice-and-dice riffs. What’s a pleasant surprise, though, is that she’s obviously taken the time since Sleater-Kinney broke up—which was a lot longer ago than you think—rounding out her game, coming off more assertive and confident as a singer than before with lyrics that work pretty well as a mission statement for Wild Flag before you any more meaning into them (“We love the sound / The sound is what found us / The sound is blood between me and you”)....full text |
| Latimesblogs |
| For scholars of indie rock, the union of Mary Timony and Carrie Brownstein as Wild Flag is notable not only for the pedigrees but for what they signify. The former was the voice of Boston lethargy rock band Helium, the latter (along with Wild Flag drummer Janet Weiss) a member of Portland, Oregon’s Sleater-Kinney. Go deeper than the East-West convergence, though, and you have genetic intermingling: Helium recorded for New York City’s white-collar indie label Matador Records; Sleater-Kinney got its start on Northwest imprint Kill Rock Stars before moving to mega-indie Sub Pop. This new project, on North Carolina’s Merge Records, then, unifies theories from four of the most important American rock labels of the past two decades. And what has the merger wrought? Rock, with guitar solos, mean riffs, barks, yowls, “shoop-shoops,” grooves and an inherent understanding of swagger and energy. At its best, as on the masterful “Short Version,” which takes a Tom Verlaine-inspired guitar line, dumps it in gasoline and sets it on fire, the fledgling concern races like it’s been together for years. “Glass Tambourine” is as trippy as its title, an oddball amalgam that begins like an Alice Cooper song before settling on a simple riff and becoming bouncy, then combustible, then just plain weird. The problem is that too many of these songs just don’t swing — they happen and then they’re done, but they don’t stick in the head. It’s like the musicians are speaking a few different dialects; you can understand the words but the poetry gets lost. Timony’s seductive voice, for example, has always been best surrounded by languid tones; she’s less a rock singer than a chanteuse, and has a hard time competing with the volume. “Electric Band” suggests the Velvet Underground’s primal “Sweet Jane” riff, but can’t capitalize....full text |
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