From the archives: Reviewing Wussy's 2005 "Funeral Dress"

A trip through the Midwest and the ashes of failed relationships.

Jul 21, 2023

Note: This week, I’m trying something called “spending time with my kids,” so I thought it was a good opportunity to share a review from early last year before many people joined us. I’d like to think my writing has evolved, but my love for this record has not. This first appeared here, and I’ve only lightly edited it for typos/syntax, etc.

Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I used to joke that the Midwest and Rust Belt were one giant state. A place where the only thing that ever changed was the license plates.

Then I moved here.

There are very real differences and people leading very real lives.

Wussy is from Cincinnati and every bit an Ohio band. They might be from the big city, but this is music from the Ohio where the day ends with a beer on the front porch and where a long drive in the country can solve most problems.

It’s where you get asked fewer questions when you’re in a truck.

2005’s Funeral Dress reads like vignettes from a broken relationship. And it’s hard to tell if they broke up or gave up.

The opening track, “Airborne,” is a supercharged post-mortem that feels distant and urgent all at once

I think it’s clear that I adore you
I didn’t mean to bore you
Or grind it in so deep
I had to put another call in
I didn’t think you’d fall in
With the company you keep
And you tell me that you love me
But you don’t really love me
You remind me every day
When you’re living in a flood plain
It doesn’t take a hard rain
To wash it all away

Chuck Cleaver (formerly of Ass Ponys) and Lisa Walker’s vocal interplay work wonderfully across the record. They remind me of X if John Doe and Exene Cervenka were in couples therapy.

“Crooked” deftly uses the cicada rebirth cycle and breaking glass as allegories.

This is the part where I break you out
And remove any doubt
As to which side I'm on
Taking the chance and breaking the glass
And people will talk for years to come

And people will talk. Because, well, that’s what they do in small-town America. “What will people at church think?” carries weight in a lot of life decisions.

On “Yellow Cotton Dress,” Cleaver picks through the wreckage of a love he’ll never be free from.

The silverware you used is on the table still
Someone else will have to move it
Because I never will
You’re everywhere

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Funeral Dress was a critic’s darling. Even resident grump Robert Christgau gave it high praise, noting in a 2006 review:

The guy sings high and pained, the gal mellow and forthright. Both have Midwestern twangs. The guy sounds older, but the gal dominates. The music is post-Velvet Underground droney, but the contained guitar noise never comes off as urban because it flows too smoothly--there's not enough conflict or racket in it. Also, bands that indulge their noisy sides are never this tuneful, even when they try. The gal is Lisa Walker, an unknown who won't be….They're an unlikely seeming pair. They fit perfectly.

On paper, nothing about this record should work. He’s old, she’s young. Different vocal styles. A drummer who learned to play on the fly ‘cause she wanted to be a part of the band.

They’re from the city but paint pictures of rural life. It’s hopeful and desolate, enduring and terminal. The record is noisy one minute and quiet the next. Everything is fraught, yet there’s no extra note to spare.

It should be out of place, yet it feels right at home. It fits perfectly. Like a farm truck on a county backroad.

Listen:

Wussy | Funeral Dress, 2005

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this record! Please share them below.

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