The Bachelor is a barely-there concept album about love,
doubt and all those other traumatic things that pop up when the two are
combined. It was originally supposed to be a double album, but British
multi-instrumentalist Wolf trimmed the content, retaining songs that
have titles like “Kriegspiel” and “Theseus.” (He’s planning a sequel
consisting of the leftover tracks). Wolf has always been an ambitious
type, loading his records with lots of skittering synths, baroque
flourishes and bombastic vocals. On his fourth album, he throws his
ambition into overdrive. “Hard Times” sounds like one of those
early-’80s new-wave epics Ultravox recorded. “Oblivion”‘s stabbing
strings end up hijacking the entire melody. And “Damaris” is a
kitchen-sink ballad complete with a choir joining in on a “rise up”
chorus. But Wolf’s overstuffed cuts start losing their balance about
halfway through The Bachelor. There’s only so much violin,
choral and electro-speckled ornate pop you can cram onto a CD before it
reaches a breaking point. — Michael Gallucci
This article appears in Aug 12-18, 2009.
