This is atrocious, pure and simple. Obviously, these people have spent far too much time in the woods, because that's the only way they could play this badly without their neighbours killing them in their sleep. The music is so packed full of amateurish clichéd country/fold stylings, there's too many to list, but the include jangly acoustic and whining slide guitars. The vocals are best when they're just derivative and boring, which is most of the time, but at least then David Wimble manages to hold a note. The listener isn't always that lucky, especially on their attempt at boogie, that is the title track. No, on 'Wild River', Mr. Wimble proves that he marches to the beat of a different drum and sings notes completely unrelated to the music, or to any conception of good taste.
And the lyrics! Try this for size:
"Tears run down my face like Vikings
wave of love fall tender on my chest
as I melt into the eyes of fortune
I call out to whom I must confess"
(To Whom I Must Confess).
To tell the truth, the pain of listening to this almost had the tears running down my face like bloody massive longboats full of feckin' Vikings. If this kind of crime against music is tolerated in Canada, then the mounties sure ain't getting the right men.
by Donnacha DeLong