John Wesley Harding sure can write a melody.
Every song seems to have its own distinct tune, with hooks that feel crisp, natural, and unforced. There’s a Paul McCartney-esque quality to his ability to fill an album with wonderfully tuneful songs without making them sound interchangeable. And he seems to have an endless reservoir of them.
The Elvis Costello comparisons make sense, especially when you realize that Pete Thomas and Bruce Thomas are in the band. But I also hear Joe Jackson, Marshall Crenshaw, and Graham Parker, particularly in the combination of melody, instrumental variety, and storytelling.
Harding’s wordplay can be clever and mischievous. At times, there’s a sense that he’s practically smirking through some of these songs.
Musically, he draws on the directness of pub rock while incorporating elements of new wave and country rock, with arrangements that stretch beyond the expected guitar-band sound.
The title track establishes that combination right away. “Here Comes the Groom” is catchy, with a melody that immediately sticks, and there’s a bright, chiming sound in the arrangement that helps expand the musical palette. Harding also introduces his sense of humor, turning the familiar wedding expression into a story about a man marrying into money and trying to make himself into somebody important.
“Cathy’s New Clown” brings the energy up another notch. Pete Thomas and Bruce Thomas really shine here, with the bass and guitar giving the song a terrific bounce. Harding sings it with infectious enthusiasm, and the whole thing has a Beatles-esque quality. The lyrics point to someone who knows he’s being played, but his infatuation keeps him coming back for more. The surreal wordplay makes the predicament funny without losing sight of the frustration underneath it.
The album also shows how Harding can use his melodies to approach darker subjects without changing his basic pop instincts. “Spaced Cowgirl” slows things down, moving into a more restrained, country-tinged roots-rock sound. The song portrays a woman whose glamorous public image hides a life that’s coming apart. References to whiskey and forgotten evenings suggest self-destruction, but there’s tenderness mixed in with the judgment. Harding seems to recognize the sadness of someone losing control, even as he describes their flaws.
“Scared of Guns” takes the opposite musical approach. It’s an exuberant, high-energy pop song with a touch of honky-tonk flavor, yet its message is unmistakably anti-gun. Rather than presenting himself as a crusader, Harding starts with personal fear and expands into a broader criticism of a culture fascinated with weapons.
“You’re No Good” returns to a gentler melody without losing its rhythmic drive. Pete Thomas delivers another terrific drum performance, and Harding’s vocals suit the song’s pointed but tuneful approach.
There’s a different kind of unease in “When the Sun Comes Out.” The restrained arrangement and shimmering guitar figure create an almost hypnotic atmosphere. The weather imagery initially suggests an endless period of gloom, but the promise of sunshine takes on a more personal meaning: a change that brings relief and happiness.
“The Devil in Me” turns to humor again, cataloguing terrible acts while blaming the devil inside the narrator. The upbeat arrangement, with its prominent horns and country-flavored guitar, makes it another immediate pop song. But the joke has a sharp point. The narrator keeps finding excuses for his behavior until the song turns the argument back on humanity itself.
One of the album’s highlights is “An Audience with You.” The guitar riff carries the song, while the punchy, almost slapping drums give it an irresistible mid-tempo groove. Harding turns romantic rejection into an elaborate comic drama: the narrator is trying to get an audience with someone who’s made themselves almost impossibly inaccessible. Beneath all that wordplay, though, is a lovesick person who’s frustrated at being shut out.
“Dark Dark Heart” brings back the twangy guitar sound, with another strong sense of momentum. There’s a feeling of people trapped in monotonous routines or destructive patterns, and the narrator eventually acknowledges his own capacity for cruelty. The song never settles into a single clear narrative for me, but that uncertainty suits its portrait of people damaging themselves and each other.
“Same Thing Twice” takes a more acoustic, bluegrass-tinged approach while retaining Harding’s pop sensibility. The lyrics describe a performer who uses practiced charm to make every audience feel special, even though he’s repeating the same routine night after night. It’s a funny portrait of manipulation, but what begins as a comic routine becomes a reflection on how difficult it can be to find anything genuine in a world of rehearsed interactions.
The album takes a more traditional folk turn on “Affairs of the Heart.” The slower ballad features accordion from Geraint Watkins and backing vocals from Kirsty MacColl, giving it a distinctive, almost old-world character. Harding sings about someone who understands the risks of falling in love but takes them anyway. The arrangement gives the song room to breathe, and MacColl’s harmonies add warmth without overwhelming Harding’s lead vocal.
Shifting the sound again, “Nothing I’d Rather Do” brings in layered vocals, a driving drumbeat, and an almost psychedelic quality. The vocal arrangement is a particular highlight, giving the song a Beatles-esque feel. The lyrics are more impressionistic than narrative-driven, but there’s a thread of affection and reassurance running through them.
That idea of people caught in difficult patterns continues on “Things Snowball,” a Dylan-esque folk song featuring Peter Case on vocals and guitar. The song offers a series of cautionary examples about the habits that sabotage us, making the case for understanding ourselves well enough to stop getting in our own way.
“The Red Rose and the Briar” is one of the album’s most touching moments. The acoustic guitar playing is beautiful, and Harding’s vocal performance really hits home. The story feels like a metaphor for emotional abandonment, with the rose and briar suggesting a connection that survives even when two people are separated. The ending, though, feels tragic, leaving someone stranded in the place where they were left behind.
“Bastard Son” closes the album with a return to punchy rock and another strong melody. Harding turns his attention to the musical lineage that brought him here, casting himself as a slightly unruly offspring of that musical family, drawing from its history without belonging exclusively to any one part of it.
It’s a fitting way to finish a record that has moved so freely between pop, rock, country-tinged arrangements, and traditional folk.
What I take away from Here Comes the Groom is that Harding has considerably more going for him than his ability to write catchy melodies and clever lyrics.
The melodies are what initially drew me in, but Harding has plenty more going for him. He’s a capable vocalist and an impressive guitar player, backed by a band that gives these songs plenty of energy and variety. His singing also brings out a tenderness that balances the cleverness and humor of his lyrics.
Harding writes about people who make a mess of their lives, mistreat one another, get trapped in destructive patterns, or struggle to escape their circumstances. But there are also moments of hope, along with the willingness to risk getting hurt for love. He can be funny about his characters without making every song a joke, and sympathetic without pretending they’re blameless.
Verdict: Good
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