One of the most interesting aspects about Cherry Soda is what it’s not. The album that would eventually become Nathan Williams’ tenth as Wavves was first announced this past summer, in the form of a collaborative project with Max Bemis of 2000s pop-punk relics Say Anything. On paper, the pairing made sense. Both artists’ respective sounds are inextricably tied to past eras of rock music, with Williams’ aesthetic most commonly associated with the weeded-out indie gold rush of the early 2010s. The project imploded after allegations emerged that Bemis had engaged in inappropriate communication with underage fans. In a series of statements, Williams claimed that Bemis was barely involved in Cherry Soda’s writing process and promised that it “wouldn’t be hard” to re-record the album to fully excise his involvement. Four months later, with a few release-date pushbacks and a slight tracklist re-arranging, here we are.
Williams was quoted in the album’s original press materials as having sought out Bemis “to make a mall emo record” and “see what an early 2000s Wavves emo record would sound like.” (The revised press materials for Cherry Soda, it should be noted, bear no mention of the on-the-quick switcheroo that brought the album to its current state.) Such a statement might scan as redundant when quickly glancing at the breadth of the Wavves catalog, which has included Travis Barker collaborations and a song called “Emo Christmas.” But Williams has often strayed from the chain-walleted sound that once propelled him to equal parts fame and infamy, having tried his hand at doo-wop, psych-pop, and noisy post-hardcore.
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Last year’s bright, slick, and Barker-assisted Spun was a slight return to form, but its unmemorable melodies were the work of a songwriter on autopilot. So it’s a welcome surprise that the trio of songs that kick open the door on Cherry Soda represent a slight improvement on its predecessor’s monochromatic blare. “We Get Around” rolls forth with oceanic six-stringed simplicity and a faux-Brian Wilson midsection to match, while “Pinesol” (one of a few cuts that survived the culling in Cherry Soda’s Bemis-less assemblage) is one big skyscraping hook that would’ve flattened a festival side-stage circa 2014. With a grungy sweep that would’ve been referred to as “radio-ready” back when the FM dial was king, “Layover in Dublin” practically explodes with each scream that Williams lets loose on its chorus.
