If Remi Wolf’s earlier records were kaleidoscopes of maximalist, funk-inflected indie pop and surrealist lyrics, Mud marks a shift to something elder and natural– rather actually, with the album cover presenting the California-born singer-songwriter beaming with a sludgy mask of literal mud.
After a year that saw Wolf release her terrific student cd, Concepts ; increase her very own excursion with an opening port for Olivia Rodrigo; but likewise endure a significant breakup and become entirely burned out, the seeds of the new record were grown during a two-week retreat in Nashville in late 2024, where Wolf set out to blow open her imaginative world by creating with complete complete strangers. However while Nashville generated some stimulates– including the blissful, country-tinged standout track “Champagne”– it likewise made her understand that what she really needed was to create her own sanctuary.
So, Wolf constructed what she passionately calls her “family band,” an internal sanctum included lasting partner Jared Solomon, her songwriter buddy Jack DeMeo, and her sister-in-law Gigi. Together, they decamped to a comfy log cabin in Big Bear, The golden state, and later to the areas of Joshua Tree, composing in living areas as opposed to tape-recording studios. Wolf welcomed the function of “house mommy,” cooking morning meal and supper for her staff as they worked.
The goal from the outset was fairly straightforward: every track needed to be strong enough for vocal singing around a campfire on an acoustic guitar with three-part harmony, yet still be a genuine reflection of Wolf’s emotional unraveling. (They would additionally, normally, have impossibly catchy tunes– with Mud, Wolf proves once more that there are couple of musicians around with an ear for a hook fairly like her.)
Yet the genuine development came to Manhattan’s storied Electric Lady Studios, where Wolf and her team penned “Covered in Mud” and the euphoric “Container,” unlocking a sonic globe she summarizes as equal parts “psychological sludge” and “SpongeBob Ascension.” Across the final album’s wall-to-wall heaters– from the raw, giant belting of “Jamie” to the bruised, guitar-noodling admissions of “Guess”– Wolf maps the journey of her Saturn return through heartbreak, alcohol addiction, a failure, and back once again, at some point uncovering an infectious, bone-deep delight that emits from the wide-eyed wonder of “Moon So High,” featuring John Mayer, or the euphoria of complete abandonment on “Covered in Mud.” As Wolf herself places it: “There’s a liberty in being covered in mud and totally succumbing to exactly how you absolutely feel.”
