Back with brand new album Wolffpack, DeWolff aren’t about to let something as banal as a pandemic slow them down. Following hot on the heels of 2020’s Tascam Tapes (the third album the band released in three years), Wolffpack sees the band maintaining their creative relationship from lockdown, holding demo review meetings via Zoom before getting to work in their Utrecht-based studio bunker. The result, the band’s ninth studio album to date, offers little clue that it was recorded during a period of enforced inactivity, drawing on funk, rock and hazy psychedelia to transport the listener to a world where everything remains as groovy as hell.
Opening with the psychedelic funk haze of Yes You Do (feat Ian Peres and Judy Blank), the band shift from Floyd-esque swirl, to the strutting funk of Deep Purple MkIII. The vocals, perhaps, lack the bite of Hughes and Coverdale, but the smooth groove of the bass cut with the heady tones of the organ do much to transport the listener to a long-departed decade where A-line flares with pockets in the knees were still de rigueur. Another funky beast, Treasure City Moonchild is built around a shuffling beat, before kicking into a riff reminiscent of Sail Away. The band nail the harmonies here, but you long for a slightly rougher edge to compliment the heavily overdriven guitar, and the track feels like it runs about a minute longer than it merits. The band slow the pace next, with an older track, featuring Theo Lawrence on vocals. Do Me dates back to 2019 and has a vintage soul feel reminiscent of Otis Redding. With Theo Lawrence’s vocals gliding through the mix, it’s a strangely evocative piece of music that feels like it was unearthed in a time capsule. It’s back to the funky strut of the opening numbers with Sweet Loretta, which feels the more potent for its relative brevity and a smokier vocal take. The first half concludes with the Smokey Robinson-esque Half Of Your Love, a shimmering soul number with a taut beat that keeps at least one foot on the disco floor.
Opening up the album’s second side, the grungy riff of Lady J sits somewhere between Purple and Zeppelin, although it’s cut short in favour of a lighter, funkier groove that is stripped all the way down on the verse. A particularly dynamic track, DeWolff are at their most effective here, playing with influences and letting their creative instincts fly. The oddly phrased Roll Up The Rise is equally impressive, the band cooking in a manner only hinted at on the album’s first side. The pace is maintained on Bona Fide, an album highlight, with the tougher riffs, subtly distorted vocal and throbbing bassline all coalescing in a perfect summation of DeWolff’s strengths. Annoying text speak of the title notwithstanding, R U My Saviour adds in brass and sass in equal measure and the temperature is raised another degree or two just as the album heads towards its conclusion. The closing track, Hope Train, is based on Colson Whitehead’s slavery-era novel and sees the band utilising a Fisher-Price toy cassette recorded to get the effect of an old country blues recording, before smashing it all to pieces with a hulking great riff that drags it into the present. It’s a powerful closing track, and an impressive tribute to the roots of the blues all in one.
There’s a lot to recommend Wolffpack. It’s well recorded and the band play with customary skill. However, the record feels like it needed a touch more restraint, with a number of tracks overstaying their welcome, particularly on the first side. The second side, however, kicks things up several notches and tracks like Bona Fide and Roll Up The Rise cook with the gasoline the band so often employ at live shows. A touch uneven, then, but still with plenty to offer, Wolffpack may take its time to fully reveal its charms, but when it does, you’ll be hooked. 7/10
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