By album three, most bands either settle into a formula or combust under the weight of expectation. Wallows, it turns out, just made their most confident and fully realized record to date — by writing more songs than ever and then cutting half of them.
“We definitely left off some of our best songs,” they say with a shrug, “but that was kind of the point.” Model, their latest LP, isn’t trying to be everything all at once. It’s lean, emotionally fluid, and sequenced like they actually care about your attention span. “We wanted to make sure every song on the album didn’t have another moment like it,” they explain. “Every track should feel like its own moment before moving on to the next.”
It’s an approach they arrived at the hard way. Their last record, Tell Me That It’s Over, was recorded in sprawling sessions over 10 months. This time, they locked in with longtime collaborator John Congleton and got ruthless. “Last time we overthought everything,” they say. “This time, we just worked fast. It turns out that’s way more fun.” Congleton — known for his blunt feedback and refusal to say yes just to be nice — helped sharpen their instincts. “He doesn’t like anything,” they joke. “So when he reacts, you know it’s real.”
The result is a record that swings from sharp post-punk moments to warm 70s pop textures, with stops at infatuation, heartbreak, and late-night existential clarity along the way. “Canada” rides a moody top-line straight into your chest. “Going Under” sounds like Tame Impala got into a bar fight with Nick Cave. “Bad Dream,” meanwhile, started life as a tribute to boy bands.
“There were all these *NSYNC plaques on the wall,” they explain, recalling a session with songwriter Rick Nowels. “We were like, ‘Let’s write something where every single part is catchy — like verse, pre-chorus, everything.’” The track eventually morphed into something more wistful, sun-drenched, and vaguely Beach Boys-esque, but the pop skeleton stayed. They even attempted a fuzzed-out T. Rex version of it that was scrapped at the label’s request. “We finished it though. It exists.”
Their willingness to pivot — and to kill their darlings — is part of what gives Model its edge. There’s an optimism throughout that’s surprisingly unguarded. “Our albums used to be shrouded in insecurity and fear of growing up,” they admit. “This time, we stripped that away. We’re in a more assured place, personally and as a band.”
That sense of ease bleeds into the lyrical content too. “There’s some heartbreak,” they admit, “but it’s more about falling in love. Being infatuated. Letting yourself enjoy it.”
Even when a track started in a darker place — like “Anytime Always,” which initially made no sense to anyone but them — Congleton pushed them to simplify and cut to the chase. “He brought up Blondie’s cover of ‘Hanging on the Telephone’ and said, ‘You need to get to the chorus immediately.’” So they did. And it worked.
Wallows aren’t pretending to be reinventing the wheel here. They just want to make records that feel honest — and maybe offer a few B-sides for the diehards to obsess over. “We used to buy Japanese imports just to get that one extra song,” they say, proudly exposing their nerd credentials. “Sometimes the B-side ends up being your favorite. There’s magic in that.”
They even used to cover B-sides — obscure Strokes deep cuts, played with the hope that nobody in the audience would realize it wasn’t theirs. “We thought that was cool,” they admit, grinning.
As for future deluxe editions or unreleased sessions, “Fans will be upset some of these songs didn’t make the album,” they promise. “But that’s what makes it worth doing.”
They’re not chasing perfection. Just songs that feel true .
Watch the interview above and then check out the video below.
