Once again, Will Wood proves himself the master of writing the most danceable songs with the most devastating lyrics.
On his newest album, “in case I make it,” (stylized with that punctuation), the multi-talented, multi-genre musician presents 16 tracks exploring a range of themes: mental illness, love, how mental illness can affect love, how love can affect mental illness, identity, lack of identity, life, death, life after death, a musician’s relationship with his own career, the toxins of social media, and the toxins of rat poison. All of this is conveyed through arrangements that Will composed himself, featuring not just his signature piano and baritone ukulele, but also a full brass band and string section, an 18-person choir, and of course his trusty band, the Tapeworms.
Now, I’m no music expert — just an avid fan who’s seen Will in concert twice in the past year, filmed an interview with him, and basically adopted The Normal Album as part of my personality. As a lover of the over-the-top, theatrical sounds on his previous records, I must admit I was a bit nervous when I learned that this album would be much more folk-like and acoustic, understated and calm. But Will Wood seems to be incapable of releasing a bad song, or at least, a song that disappoints me. Though it might be different from what fans are used to, “in case I make it,” is true to the artist we love — creatively ingenious, undeniably brilliant, and authentically Will Wood.
Tomcat Disposables
I didn’t expect this to be the opener, but it’s certainly appropriate. The experience of having to trap and poison a mouse in his kitchen clearly had a significant impact on Will. He stated in an interview that the overarching theme of “Tomcat Disposables” — “thinking you’ve found the motherload of cheese and it turning out to be poison” — is also a metaphor for his own career. Nevertheless, he chose to trust and hope despite everything, and this idea is well established in this first song and throughout the album.
Becoming the Lastnames
I wasn’t particularly taken by this song when I first heard it live, but the studio version made me almost tear up several times, and it has quickly become one of my favorites. I couldn’t help but smile when he mentions wanting a daughter — a callback to his old “fake daughter” gag — and smile again at the name Gwendolyn, also the name of a character in his zine, “The Prescription.”
This may be the largest amount of personal information Will has ever voluntarily offered in a song. The “Lastnames” placeholder in the title, though, reminds us that there’s still much we don’t know about him.
Cicada Days
Hearing “Cicada Days” live made me fall in love with Will’s raw vocals, and I fell head-over-heels all over again listening to the studio version. “Cicada Days” starts off deceptively calm, but swells in intensity towards the end, then drops off once again in a quiet conclusion that almost feels like cooling down — a dynamic display that Will repeatedly employs throughout “in case I make it,.”
Euthanasia
If I had a nickel for every time Will sang about a dead rodent on this album, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice.
A heart-wrenching dedication to a pet rat who was put down, “Euthanasia” was emotionally difficult to get through, both as an animal lover and simply as a human being. I recommend holding your pets tight and grabbing some tissues for this one.
Falling Up
One of the very few songs in Will’s discography played on acoustic guitar, “Falling Up” sounds somewhere between the Eagles and a Broadway ensemble number. The internal rhyming of “stratospheric fear of catastrophe’s near, fast it’s here/atmosphere pass your ears” is extremely satisfying, and the rapid-fire recitation of the bridge brings certain songs from “The Normal Album” to mind. Though it wasn’t my favorite, I greatly appreciated getting to hear Will’s guitar skills and his lower range.
That’s Enough, Let’s Get You Home.
The cadence of the “grow up, be a man” verses are really fun, and “oh my God, what’s wrong with me?” echoes a line from “Mr. Capgras Encounters a Secondhand Vanity: Tulpamancer’s Prosopagnosia/Pareidolia (As Direct Result of Trauma to the Fusiform Gyrus)” on 2016’s SELF-iSH. The song wasn’t one of my favorites either, but the power and maturity of Will’s voice really shine through in it, particularly the passion in the last verse.
Um, It’s Kind of a Lot
I’ve heard this song performed live twice, once on ukulele and once on piano, the latter of which I greatly preferred. I’m pleased to report that the studio version has both. In true real Will Wood flavor, this song feels equal parts romantic serenade and therapy session. Favorite line: “I’m afraid of four-letter words like love, for, and ever/Or whatever.”
Half-Decade Hangover
A dedication to Will’s recovery from alcoholism, “Half-Decade Hangover” is jazzy and refreshingly simple, with piano as the sole instrument for most of the song. The ambient noise at the beginning adds dimension in a really cool way. I loved the reference to “Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In!” from SELF-iSH, and the way he replaces it with “hand me my ibuprofen” later on is really satisfying.
(Side note: I was pleasantly surprised at how many times on this album he references his previous work, considering how much he reminds us that he’s changed.)
Vampire Reference in a Minor Key
If “Laplace’s Angel” is your favorite song from The Normal Album, you’ll love this track. “Vampire Reference”is classic Will Wood: full of intellectually dense lyrics about the macabre, but set to a jazzy rhythm that you can’t help but dance to. My favorite part is when the cha-cha rhythm kicks in at “hold my hands, we’ll dance the 12-step on my grave” at the bridge — I jumped in excitement when I first heard it live. Though I hoped the studio version would be a bit more theatrical (like “Laplace’s Angel”), this subtler version has a particular charm.
You Liked This (Okay, Computer!)
Featuring Bev Standing, formerly TikTok’s text-to-speech voice actor, “You Liked This (Okay, Computer!)” is a scathing criticism of social media laid over dramatic piano interludes. It’s less song and more spoken-word poem, complete with audio distortions, notification sound effects, and a droning robotic voice. It makes me uncomfortable — and perhaps that’s the point.
The Main Character
Out of the whole album, I think this track is most similar to Will’s older work, if only because I had to Google what half the terms in the lyrics meant before I could understand it. This song is also a criticism of social media, particularly the narcissism of its users, and is the perfect thematic successor to “You Liked This.” As always, I was blown away by Will’s ability to blend idioms and metaphors into witty turns of phrase. Couple that with jaunty piano stylings, and you’ve got one of the most fun numbers on the album.
Against the Kitchen Floor
I wasn’t expecting this song to become one of my favorites, but something about it is simply addictive. The rhythm is so catchy and danceable that I can’t help but sway, and the saxophone that joins in after the first chorus is a fantastic touch that makes my heart swell. “I’m not a good person, I’m barely a person at all” is such a gut-punch line, and I didn’t even realize I had heard this song before until I reached it. Will’s desperation and vulnerability shine through in this track, truly exemplifying why “in case i make it,” is his most intimate and personal album yet.
Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n’ Roll
I’m honestly a little surprised at how late in the tracklist this song appears, given that it was the first single. “Sex, Drugs, Rock ‘n’ Roll” directly states what Will has been trying to tell us throughout “in case i make it,”: That character he used to play? He’s not “that guy” anymore, and he made “goddamn sure” he’s dead. Also, as the only piano ballad on the album, it offers a refreshing musical break after so many ukulele tracks.
Big Fat Bitchie’s Blueberry Pie, Christmas Tree, and Recreational Jell-o Emporium a.k.a. “Mr. Boy is on the Roof Again” (Feat. Pasta by Sneakers McSqueakers) [From the Motion Picture ”B.F.B.’s B-Sides: Bagel Batches, Marshmallows, and Barsh-mallows]
A 47-second intermission of sorts, full of silly noises. This title is long enough that, on Spotify at least, the song itself will end before its name even finishes scrolling. Just in case anyone was wondering.
Willard!
This is another one of my favorites. As the second to last track, “Willard!” feels like the finale to a musical in almost every way: the bold and evocative melody, the swelling orchestra flourishes and the harmonious voices of an ensemble. It even contains a reprise: the piano at the end is playing “Tomcat Disposables.”
The title is a reference to the novel Ratman’s Notebooks by Stephen Gilbert, which inspired the 1971 film Willard, about a man who trains his pet rats to commit crimes for him. The “Socrates” addressed in the chorus is the man’s favorite rat. Perhaps Will sees himself in this character? It wouldn’t be that surprising.
(Sidenote: The first six notes remind me of “Introduction to the Snow” by Miracle Musical. I don’t know if he did that on purpose, but if so, then this man REALLY knows his audience. TL;DR: Will loves rodents, literature, and maybe Tally Hall?)
White Noise
If “Willard!” is this album’s finale, then “White Noise” is its epilogue. Will stated that the song is meant to be about emptiness, but the lyrics are abstract and ambiguous enough that many interpretations are feasible. Nowhere is this more apparent than the song’s lengthy bridge, which feels almost like a chant, full of clever wordplay and satisfying rhyme schemes. “White Noise” swells in intensity as the instruments and choir join in — only to suddenly drop off, letting us catch our breath.
As the album draws to a close, Will leaves us with one final remark: all those thoughts in your head, all those worries and fears? They’re not really you, they’re just white noise.
