Kirk Wells has been a prolific songwriter for most of his life. He estimates that he’s written around 300 songs, but those songs lived in his old Boss 8-track recorder. After “20 years of encouragement” from friends, Kirk decided to crowd-fund his first studio album Dahlia.
Dahlia sounds like I’ve been transported back to late-seventies England. Wells sings with a slightly monotone voice that reminded me of the Joy Division’s Ian Curtis as soon as the vocals came in on the first song.
It’s not just the vocals that harken back to British post-punk, the instrumentation throughout is heavily rooted in this vein.
The album’s opener “Should” begins with pounding drums and heavily reverbed hums. Wells contemplates what he should do to forget a lost love and reaches the song’s emotional apex when Wells repeats “I’m gonna drive myself” and the pounding drums return. He then reveals that he’s, in fact, going to drive himself crazy, before layers of densely-packed guitars come in.
On “Contra” Wells teaches us some invaluable life lessons: be confident, look out for number one, don’t be a prick. This is the most eighties song on the record and if you replaced Wells’ vocals with those of Robert Smith it could be mistaken for an early Cure b-side. Dancy drums and bass juxtapose Wells’ baritone voice and deadpan lyrical delivery.
A lot of credit has to go to producer Ian Foster. Foster’s aid in arranging really helped to flesh out Wells’ compositions. If you compare the Dahlia to the eight-track home recordings from Wells’ “bonus album” History, they’re vastly different and more memorable than the sparse, lo-fi folk sound presented on History.
The standout track on Dahlia for me is the album closer “How Much,” which borders on post-rock. After a short verse where Wells admires someone’s strength in spite of hardships, it goes into a majestically triumphant cacophony of electronic sounds, minimalist trumpet, delay-drenched guitar lines and a fast ride cymbal. Christina Wells recites the poem “Scraggy Trees” over this instrumental section which ends the album on a powerful note.
In a CBC interview, Wells said “Dahlia is a late-blooming flower, it’s never too late to chase your dream.” Not only is the dahlia an analogy for Wells’ musical journey, but he’s also crafted an album that is just as beautiful and lush as its namesake.
I can only hope it doesn’t take another thirty-eight years for Wells to release a follow-up to Dahlia.