In both name and presentation, the five members of the Wrinkle Neck Mules aren’t
hiding from their country roots. With ringing pedal steel, banjos, mandolin, electric
guitar, and a penchant for anthemic rock with harmonies, this is country music.
The
band hails from Richmond, Virginia, where I guarantee there’s a healthy fan-base
of college students. At live shows, I imagine the English majors who are Bonnie
‘Prince’ Billy completists sip their Amstels while scoffing at the Bud
Light frat-boy set, who sing along too loudly. That broad appeal is the genius
of this genre, and this band. While there’s no shortage of bands doing what
the Wrinkle Neck Mules are doing, there is enough lyrical and compositional strength
on Pull the Brake to distinguish it from its twangy peers.
There are parallel—and
yet seemingly opposing—forces at work here: lyrics that paint dark portraits
of loss and departure and instrumentation that is largely bright-colored and singable.
Opener 'Liza' might first
be mistaken for a love song, reminiscent of R.E.M.’s 'The One I Love'. But,
upon closer listen, those lines of 'Oh Liza, Oh Liza, you’re mine…'
emerge not from love, but possession—it seems
our narrator has killed
Liza’s father and brother, has kidnapped her, and is now en route to a mineshaft.
In the chorus of 'Dust of Saturday',
lyrics 'You go your way / And I’ll go mine' are sung in a harmonious manner
despite stating the opposite. Though 'Okechobee'
doesn’t exactly roll off of the tongue, this bluegrass-tinged song is surprisingly
catchy. Its subject? A man reminiscing about his home—a home which he has
chosen over a woman. It is this sort of mystery and texture that make these songs
worth revisiting."
- PopMatters
