Wombo

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7 PM – Doors
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WOMBO

Wombo’s third album, Danger in Fives, isn’t a reintroduction; it’s a reminder. Throughout Danger in Fives, Wombo — the Louisville-bred three-piece of Sydney Chadwick (bass/vocals), Cameron Lowe (guitar), and Joel Taylor (drums) — not only enhance their formula, but routinely perfect it. The 11 tracks on Danger in Fives fine tune Wombo’s enchanting alchemy while firmly pushing the band into new territory. Maintaining the confidence of Wombo’s last full-length, 2022’s Fairy Rust, Danger in Fives reconnects with the intuition that led their wild experiments on the 2020 debut LP Blossomlooksdownuponus. Wombo’s gauzy take on post-punk — characterized by a looming darkness which Chadwick jokes is “inevitable” in their music — floats between unexpected riffs and lived-in melodies. 
To perfect the formula, Wombo first had to tear it apart. Standard practices of writing and workshopping material in their post-war basement rehearsal space were paused, as the band explored alternative writing processes. Even demos that took shape quickly — Danger in Fives standouts “S.T. Tilted” and “Cloud 36,” plus its opening title track — were carefully analyzed and adjusted. “We really quickly threw a lot of paint down and it was almost the picture, but we still tweaked it for a year,” Lowe says.The time spent refining ideas allowed Wombo to process and workshop as they lived and toured. Danger in Fives marks the first time the band experimented with writing while on the road, with album standout “A Dog Says” assuming its final form in a hotel room. 
The band’s desire to change their model was in part to “get away from a results mindset, where it’s about producing things for a certain expectation instead of doing it all for the joy of exploring,” Lowe says. This commitment toward artistic exploration led Lowe to capture as many ideas as possible, resulting in over 30 demos he then brought to Chadwick to help pare down. “There were a lot of ones where I was like, ‘This sounds really cool but it doesn’t sound like a Wombo song,’” Chadwick recalls. From those ideas, the two fleshed out basic sketches before bringing demos to Taylor in the basement. Album centerpiece “Neon Bog” emerges from this batch, a free-flowing mosaic of fortunate mistakes driven by the band’s intuition and anchored by the recurring strike of a cowbell. Soaring, distorted vocals — a result of recording Chadwick’s take to a guitar amp simulator in error — are collaged with haunting echoes, embracing a studio mistake to end with something uniquely Wombo.