I love artists who continue to musically meander, evolve their sound across a number of styles and therefore keep coming up with the goods. And whilst you can’t quite say that this song represents some sort of Bowie-esque, chameleon-like, morphing of identity, if you look closely enough you can already see two distinct phases of the George Wilding musical journey.
If the first saw him pitching himself as a bed-room poet, throwing roses in the rain and acoustically wrestling with unrequited love, loss and life in general and phase two took that bare boned eloquence and added electric elegance, psychedelic threads and a wonderfully textured backdrop, maybe So Vanilla is the start of a third chapter.
What we find here is George playing with a straighter bat, the word play is still there, still lovelorn but less existential, the music more straight down the line, a clean limbed, no frills garage rock groove. Maybe it is the start of a new chapter, maybe just a wonderful interlude but it’s a song Bobby Gillespie would have bitten your arm off for, either side of The Primal’s acid tripping years and it shows that no matter how dressed up or dressed down the end result, the combination of George’s songs and The Lighterthief Collective’s support mechanism and musical colouring in is a majorly winning combination.