Bleeds

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What’s the point of living if we’re not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surround everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday’s new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that—like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band’s catalogue so far—thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession.

Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record — it’s also the most Wednesday record: a patchwork triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman — founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist — credits Wednesday’s tightened grasp on their identity to years spent collaborating on previous albums, along with a tour schedule that has been both rewarding and relentless.

“Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential ‘Wednesday Creek Rock’ album,” Hartzman says, expressing satisfaction with how the band has sharpened its signature sound and refined the formula that has made them one of the most compelling rock bands of their generation. “This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like. We’ve devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out — and I feel like we did.”

Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who has recorded the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman once again brought early demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates — Xandy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake “M.J.” Lenderman (guitar) — worked collaboratively to fortify the songs with precise blends of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and sludgy noise. More than ever, the process was guided by the lyricism — not only in tone or subject matter, but in the literal sound of the words and Hartzman’s masterfully subjective choice of details.

Every image and scene is filtered through Hartzman’s agile, writerly mind. The selected particulars reveal her obsessions and vulnerabilities, and the fragmented way she processes the world. Bleeds suggests that sometimes the best way to locate truth, pain, or dignity in your own story is by briefly crawling inside someone else’s.