I’m lost in a sea of mullets, sweat dripping into my eyes, vape-haze funnelling through a crowd all entranced by the primal “LALALALALA” bursting like a bullet through the smile of Wunder-boy Jacob Slater. The crowd is electric, the room alive, the words of a generation lit up in synthetic lights beaming bright like purple flames. 

Then, lights down, Alexandra Palace is empty and echoing. I sit half-asleep on a Thameslink shooting through the London suburbs, my girlfriend drifting away in sleep next to me.

As I attempt to find a good photo of the band on my phone, one of the five lads slumped in the seats in front begins to chant in a stella-induced daze, muttering about the rain in Arizona. “Where the fuck is the toilet?” I sit silent. A few casual slurs tossed around the carriage, a few more proud off-key shouts of songs (including “Thorn” by Keo) before this tall brunette makes a move towards me.

He holds tight to his Adidas joggers and kneels beside me. 

“I’m gonna sit over there and piss in this cup mate, so don’t look.” 

Like stars before them in the rock canon, Wunderhorse have begun to grow tired of their early hits, much to the fanbase’s dismay.

In Amsterdam, Slater conjured some classic punk rock theatrics, creating a sonic rebellion against the anthemic “Purple,” which saw the band musically destroy the melodic core of the song and instead soak it in dissonance and chaotic cries.

Then came “The Rope,” a song that pushes four chords with a passion that is consistently implemented throughout “Midas.” These signs of the direction that the band is going in caused a small onslaught of backlash within the Wunderhorse community, with many expressing a desire for the band to return to their straightforward indie roots found on the album Cub. 

Here’s the thing. Wunderhorse are a band that have been culturally misinterpreted.

Rock and indie music are not the majority within the mainstream, and they haven’t been for quite some time. This led to Wunderhorse supporting many acts during their early career that were not at all within the same stylistic genre but were chosen simply due to the lack of opportunities within the rock industry.

Sam Fender, for example, is a Springsteen revivalist whose musical identity is much more adjacent with British rock n roll, Oasis revivalists.

Wunderhorse are not a stadium band, with the intention to create “banging tunes mate.” Their identity is far more dissonant, open to experimentation, and aligned with the punk poets of the 1990s. Slater’s songwriting is cryptic, speaks in imagery, reflecting that of late 60s Bob Dylan or Neil Young than a “Rock N Roll Star”.

However, despite their clear separation from other acts, they seem to exclusively get paired with other bands simply because they are around at the same time, take Inhaler for example.

These factors let a certain type of masculinity – a lemon emoji in the Instagram bio, pub karaoke lad culture – seep into the Wunderhorse audience, a fanbase that is now only realising that this band is not making music for them. 

Wunderhorse’s artistic vision is not lost on fans, it’s gritty, visceral, and much more aligned with alternative cultures, which is not surprising given Slater’s punk roots.

At Ally Pally (Alexandra Palace), there was a strange split in the audience – a clear divide between topless men sipping cold lager in their bucket hats, and pink-haired girls in Leather boots smoking imported Camels.

This crossover of audiences is perhaps what caused the violence of the Birmingham gig, where alternative crowds and more specifically women were feeling overthrown by masculine Gallagher-heads who think Wunderhorse are just “that band with a crazy weird singer but amazing songs.”

This contrast in audience has happened before, typically when a band with punk roots goes mainstream. 

Kurt Cobain expressed, “I don’t know how anyone could have thought we [Nirvana] were a macho rock band. I always felt that some of the people who liked us were the kind of people I hated.”

Whether this is symmetrically true for Wunderhorse, it’s hard to say at this moment. I am sure if Jacob Slater performed in a dress like Cobain did, the fan base would be confronted directly with their opposing values, and the divide between their listeners would close, but that hasn’t happened.

What I have observed is people’s complete lack of awareness about the musical history of punk and subversive music that Wunderhorse are drawing from, artists such as Tom Waits, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan – this band is not like a macho oasis revivalist. 

So, the backlash against Wunderhorse as they head further into a grungy, alternative territory is partly a symptom of their intended musical identity being misinterpreted.

However, the decision to let go of certain songs from Cub and push further into dissonance with “The Rope” shows an intention to shake off fans who are not aligned with their creative vision. Here, the band is subverting itself, a classic trope in music culture seen in places such as: Dylan Going Electric, Nirvana’s sound changed from Nevermind to In Utero and Radiohead’s left turn from OK Computer to Kid A. 

Jacob’s decision to shave his head visually mirrors the band’s rebellion against their own fanbase and resistance of genre categorisation. Slater wants to destroy his image, his own songs, his own box that he’s placed himself in – so he can keep his music evolving. It isn’t just a weird impulsive action to sustain interest in the band, it’s a symbolic destruction of identity, of what we think is true, what has already been assumed – an effort to resist entrapment. 

In the end, I trust Slater’s creative foresight and just hope the fanbase evolves into a safer place that reflects the culture of the music – gritty, vulnerable, strange, and free. 

Image Credit: Ben Heiss