Baths : Gut
Will Wiesenfeld’s work as Baths has long hewed close to the sounds we first heard from him when he broke out with Cerulean in 2010: the kind of jagged neosoul, barely danceable electronica, and cracked hip-hop derivatives found on his original home label Anticon as well as familiars like Warp and Stones Throw. It was packed to the rafters with sonic manipulation, and rightly celebrated for it, but it feels like that obscured much of the storytelling Wiesenfeld wanted to share. Gut is the first proper studio album under the Baths name in 8 years, and it tones down the glitching and filtering so a rather compellingly written set of vignettes and commentaries can shine through.
Wiesenfeld has been slowly pulling back this digital curtain across the Baths catalog. He’s also diversified into a more ambient direction performing as Geotic, and a set of precious synth-driven soundtracks for the American anime Bee and PuppyCat. So while Gut still has chunks of staccato post-rock-leaning dance music (“Eden” in all its steaminess), his calculations result too in a lot of abstract pop (“Peacocking”) and folk-driven indie-rock (“Verity”). It’s also the first real Baths concept album: a deep dive into Wiesenfeld’s queer existence, an artful exploration of the considerations and consequences of his self-admitted hedonism.
Gut frequently invokes the imagery of the serial dater simultaneously puzzled by and jealous of the gay men in their circles who manage to find long-term partners to nest with. “Chaos” crystallizes this point, its lyrics forming the album’s thematic and emotional core. Wiesenfeld’s “mischief is immortal,” following up that declaration by alternately celebrating it (“…and this is just a Saturday”) and lamenting it (“…and it’s always in the way”). “How does anybody do it?” Wiesenfeld asks. “How do you hold on to someone if you’ve lost your grip?” Baths attempts to distract us from pondering such an existential question by supplying passages of spare leftfield electronica fit between ambient art-rock.
A lot of Gut feels rooted in such sounds that rose to prominence in the late 2000s and early 2010s, as alternative music acts presented emotions and instrumentation growing significantly more frantic and neurotic. Wiesenfeld coos, yelps, and overdubs his way through “Eyewall” in the same manner as TV on the Radio once did. Baroque string sections, a triggered bass part, and stuttering percussion enmesh in “Homosexuals,” evoking Of Montreal’s high weirdness. There are even a few hints of Death Cab for Cutie in a riff and plaintive vocal melody here or a chiming piano solo there.
But for once, it’s the words that generate the most gravitational pull to a Baths album. The tender, hesitating “Cedar Stairwell” seems to describe flirtations explored and refused at a house party, unsure if the guestlist has 2 or 200 names. Then there’s the purposefully awkward glitch-rock of “American Mythos,” which finds Wiesenfeld labeling a peer (if not a partner) simultaneously as “better half/total embarrassment.” Gut addresses love, lust, and loneliness in equal measure, and even manages moments of anger and politicized rebellion. Even if it’s a hard album to listen to it’s a necessary album to hear, especially because it feels like it was a hard but necessary album to make.
Label: Basement’s Basement
Year: 2025
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