by B.Snapp (@snappstare.bsky.social)
Listening to INVERNO (“WINTER” in Italian to go with “Wolf City,” the translation of the band name), I can’t help thinking about the line “Now is the winter of our discontent…” and political blindness, willful deception, foresight as prophecy, and misperceptions, all themes pervasive in Richard III. While there’s no plot connection, the “looking” to envision truth (via an awakening from a metaphorical winter) is a literary thread in the songs on Lupo Città’s new album, released April 24th on 12XU.
The opening triptych of “Wandering Eye,” “Something Else,” and “Can’t See” is centered on themes of sight:
“Wandering eye, I never looked away.
Wandering eye, when you turned my way.”
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“In the name of everything / I pledge myself to you
And I’m half-blind / So I set a course that I can find”
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“Can’t see you can’t see me can’t see you can’t see”
Each of these first three songs feels intrinsically linked to the core Lupo Città sound I found so appealing to begin with. They have their own vibes, varying in tempo, groove, and attack. That kind of variety makes for repeatedly enjoyable listening. The bass lines wander ever so slightly, while the guitars shimmer and grind, jangle, and reverberate over indie rock rhythms. They intertwine and get lost and found again, riding that tension of holding the chaos together, whether that’s letting it rip or channeling the energy, settling down and setting the mind free to wander and drift away. Through the push-pull of losing control versus maintaining your grip, the band combines the alchemized forces of Jennifer Gori (drums + vocals), Sarah Black (guitar, bass), and Chris Brokaw (guitar + vocals).
Chris Brokaw has a chameleon-like quality that not only fits in anywhere, but somehow also distinctly accentuates a piece of music with his own character, whether it’s on drums or guitar or vocals. Last December, I got to talk to Chris about the making of the new album INVERNO when I saw him on a double-bill at Hudson Valley’s own underground showcase spot Tubby’s with fellow Come bandmate, Thalia Zedek.
In between sets, I had a moment to catch up with Chris at the merch table, where the new Pullman III record was drawing my eye, weeks before its official release. And naturally, as I was paying for the merch, the topic of a new Lupo Città record came up.
Chris was excited because, in his humble way, he mentioned bringing more of his songwriting to the project this time. For the debut, he had joined only after most of the material was in progress by the other members of the band, who already had a set of songs they were working on, and invited him to play with them. And when I said Lupo Città was one of my top favorite albums of 2024, he was kind of like, with a wink, “Uh-oh… I hope you like the new one too.” And we smiled and went closer to the back room as the Thalia Zedek Band was starting to play. I said I hope he’ll bring the band to Tubby’s after the new album comes out. (And I’m still waiting for that!)
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It left me wondering, would this be an unequivocally new direction for the band, and either way, would I love it as much as I did the first album? The short answer is yes, having had time to let it settle and grow. On the surface, during the first listen, it felt somewhat “different” — but I wouldn’t want it to be “the same,” so that’s ultimately a great thing. There’s a renewed cohesion, focused thoughtfulness and intent, and equally skillful production and songwriting execution.
It might be a fool’s errand to guess which songs came from Chris, Jenn, or Sarah, because as they come together in a unified trio you can feel how they pulse together, each adding as much as the other to establish and execute each song. This is true “band” music — not a singer/songwriter-led team, but collectively built, with the sum being multiplied by the powers of its individual parts.
There is a dialectic duality (or tri-ality, if that’s a thing), as the tempos on INVERNO keep shifting. It feels like that moment you need to slow down from 55 to 25mph approaching a small town that has one or two Main Street intersections. You’ve never been here before, but feel the eyes of locals and anticipate the speed trap — a little paranoia never hurt anyone.
On “Something Else” the narrator in the lyrics says, “and I’m half-blind, so set a course that I can find…” “you see right through and it all feels true, you see right through like no one else (x2), you see right through to something else.” Again, transparency and seeing take on new meaning. Then “Can’t See” rips into a repeating line that exposes the blindness, perhaps through the dystopia, the blockage, the breakdown of communication, the distance, the physical seeing and the ability to “see” someone for who they truly are: “Set vision on violate.”
“Southern Forest” reminds me of “El Paso” from Lupo Città’s last album in the sense that it reaches for sounds coming from the American southern landscape. But its swampy garage vibe takes us from the desert climate of Texas to a wet, distorted, driving groove. It’s a standout track on the album, and could easily be heard on a well-known, mass-reach alt-country rock radio station. “Satisfy” takes a turn from “El Paso” and stays the course in the slinky side of Lupo Città, the hazy shade of winter, as it were.
One more allusion to eyes is brought back around “To the Last Look” — which to me sounds as if Sleater-Kinney and The Breeders gave driving lessons to [insert recent indie rock band you love], and maybe gave a listen to “Vowel Movement” by Holly Vincent & Johnette Napolitano. Songs like “Red + Yellow” bring light to blindness, “I can see it with my eyes closed,” which is what the song makes me want to do: explore some inner vision landscaping or just drive off into the horizon blasting this album and see where the road takes me.
A solid extender to the electric current of their debut, INVERNO rides those waves before taking to land and touring the American vista. It addresses our current state of affairs while remaining introspective and yet relatable. There is more “soul surfing” on this record. It’s an invitation to look inward, to the place where simple truths are belied by external pressures, and finally see for yourself, rather than being fixated on what everyone else is doing.