Words by Luke LaBenne
Many great works of art have resulted from the teetering balance of life. The ebb and flow. The pendulum swing. Periods of disillusion and detachment leading to times of discovery and enlightenment. London singer-songwriter Eaves Wilder followed in the footsteps of many artists who almost gave it up altogether before delivering an inspired work. After a stint of existential uncertainty, she returned to creating music, and the result is Little Miss Sunshine. On this album, she works through big feelings with big guitars, channeling influential 90’s rock acts into her own distinct style. The music world almost lost one of its strongest new voices, but fortunately, it gained a striking entry from a bold artist.
Off Shelf: You said you wanted this album to be your version of “cock rock,” citing influences like Pearl Jam, Jane’s Addiction, Soundgarden, and more. What gear / techniques / songwriting approaches did you employ to accomplish this sound?
EW: I think we are at a riff-deficit in society right now, and it was very important to me that I do what I can in this record to combat that. The only problem is, I don’t really play lead guitar. I can do enough, but not enough to be Dave Navarro, so I turned to a guitar plugin on my keyboard, which is the instrument I know best, and shredded that way.
Just as much as I miss the classic riffs, I also miss the classic rock guitar tone. I feel like most indie rock songs at the moment have really tinny post punk guitars. I wanted that classic 70s, dirty and distorted and almost bluesy guitar tone on songs like “Hurricane Girl.” Instead of being too fuzzed out, it had to be soaring.
The “Alive” riff by Pearl Jam was huge for me too. I looked to that over and over when making “Mountain Sized.” If you make a song called Mountain Sized, if the guitars don’t sound mountainous, that’s super embarrassing. So we went round and round on those guitars. I wanted them to be as loud and distorted as possible without losing the track.
OS: “Hurricane Girl,” almost feels like the proof of concept for that big rock sound. Was there an intent to open the album with a bang?
EW: To me, “Hurricane Girl” feels like a character introduction. It feels like the opening credits of a movie where it’s a super wide shot and then zooms into the protagonist. Musically, I feel like it does show you what’s to come. It is probably the song that most encapsulates the main sound for the album the best. As equally heavy and distorted and rocky and aggressive as it is dreamy and lush and gentle. It shows the full scope, so it felt like the perfect opening.
OS: How did you go about balancing the use of these big guitars and fuzzed-out bass into your own style rather than having a constant, obvious homage? Was there a temptation to have them be more present more often?
EW: I think what the songs are about informs how they need to be produced. I don’t ever believe in making things – anything, for the sake of it. I used to do that sometimes, and I banned that on this record. I can tell when a song wants to be heavy and when it needs a break or needs to be elevated by the more lush production parts. I think the subject matter can give you clues as to how it needs to be produced. I think some songs can take a lot, in terms of distortion and riffs and layers, because it’s about chaos. But a song like “English Tea” or “LA,” the production has to be more gentle.
OS: Before this album, you almost walked away from making music. What drew you back in?
EW: There’s lots of reasons… part of it is that I spent a while weighing my options, and there was none. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. It’s the only thing I’m really interested in. It’s how I relate to the world, and not having that anymore was proper? Proper scary. But also, I had made these imaginary walls to contain myself in. There were certain things I thought I wasn’t allowed to do, things I should save for the third album or whatever. But at the point that I’d convinced myself there would never be a third album, it freed me. I thought, “Ok, what have I always wanted to do?” Let’s take every idea I’ve ever had and use it because this is my chance. And with each song, I kind of fell back in love with it. Everything was only for me. It felt like play and I forgot that’s how it should feel.
OS: The track “Everybody Talks” feels like a fitting encapsulation of the social media age and how all of the noise can distract you from your own self-worth and purpose. What advice do you have for tuning out all of the talk and listening to your own inner voice?
EW: Learn to sit with yourself in silence. That’s the thing I find hardest to do. We are currently all running on to-do lists and goals and comparisons and checkpoints, and it makes life feel like a treadmill. That if you stop for a second, you will fall. There’s think pieces on everything and every one has a hot take on everything and no one even means half of what they’re saying. We just all know we need to be generating as much noise as possible all the time to be seen and I think there’s beauty in not being seen and just knowing your self enough that it doesn’t matter. Get to know yourself like you do a friend. Ask yourself how you really feel about things and what do you really want. Don’t get your information from Instagram infographics. Read books and listen to albums that aren’t from people trying to ragebait you. Things that took people years, as opposed to a few minutes, will always be better for you.
But I’m a massive hypocrite. I get rage baited all the time. I’m constantly in fights under posts of Courtney Love, and I paused doom scrolling to respond to this interview. [laughs]
OS: As a 35-year-old with an almost 2-year-old child, I still relate to the lyric of “I never really think I’ll be grown, but in my mind I’m taller than the highest mountain sides.” Do you think that feeling ever changes, or does this mental confidence of feeling mountain-sized balance out the fact that we are, in a way, always learning and growing?
EW: Thank you! I’ve always loved the idea of a song where you are just naming all of your worst attributes; it was really fun to write. But the choruses are kind of like meant to be the North Star of what I could be. I hope that doesn’t go away. I think the only times in life I’ve got lost is where I’ve stopped seeing where I’m headed. I think if you have an inferiority and a superiority complex at the same time, it basically all balances out.
OS: I also love the lyric, “No one blames the clouds for rain. So take me as I am tears down my face,” this leads me to believe that the title Little Miss Sunshine is maybe a bit sarcastic. How did you decide on that album title?
EW: The title is very much sarcastic! A boy called me that once, and I laughed cause I was so angry all the time. A massive bitch to be honest, so it showed he had no idea who I was. I have spent all of my life battling the things that girls are meant to be because not much of it comes naturally to me. I am huge, even when I try to shrink; my emotions are too big. And I’ve spent all of it torn between the side of me that is trying to be so smiley and sunny and happy and carefree, and the side of me that notices everything, and is annoyed by everything and is angry and hormonal and unreasonable and aggressive.
I wanted this album to encompass both, musically, lyrically, and thematically, because I’m sick of thinking you need to be one or the other; you can be all of it at once, and you should be all those things at once. I think I thought when I finally became a woman or whatever, that I would have picked one by now. But I don’t want to pick, because in the space of one day, I can be all of those things.
OS: Finally, the lyric, “you’re looking at me like I’m someone else,” is powerful, and there seem to be themes of growth and transformation on this album. Do you feel like you’re entering a new chapter of your life, and does that bring excitement and/or anxiety?
EW: I get bored really easy and I never want to go through a period of time ever again where I’m not growing again, ever. I think that’s how the existential crisis that caused this album to come about started. I got a bit too comfortable staying still and that can make your whole world start to feel very small and claustrophobic. So I don’t think it gives me anxiety to change. I like to think that if I heard the music I’ll be making in ten years time, I might not be able to recognize that its me. Because I would have felt moved by enough things in that time for it to have pushed me somewhere that I haven’t even thought about going.