Wheat

by Kurt B. Reighley

Medeiros, the debut LP from Boston's Wheat, is that rarest of records that feels painfully personal yet resonates with familiar sentiments. The band's songs deal with everyday occurrences and emotions without seeming precious, trading in the down-tempo, lo-fi brand of indie pop typified by bands like Idaho or Red House Painters, yet neatly diffusing the alienating egocentricity that derails many similar outings.

Wheat achieve that in part by maintaining almost total anonymity -- the members' names appear nowhere on their album or their press materials. Keeping a low profile was a part of the band's modus operandi from inception. "It's nice to not have to be that attached to the music, other than to have played it," says songwriter Scott Levesque. "Who cares if somebody recognizes you in the supermarket?"

Released late last year via Chicago's Sugar Free label, Medeiros was recorded both in Providence with Dave Auchenbach (ex-Small Factory) and at home on eight-track, with additional recording and mixing assistance from Brian Deck (Red Red Meat) in Chicago. Why don't more folks here know about Wheat? For one, the foursome limit the number of live gigs they play (though a tour in support of the album is being planned).

"It just seems sort of grotesque and flamboyant, the act of standing on a raised platform with lights on you, implying that people should clap," explains Levesque, who admits he suffers from moderate stage fright. Yet he enjoys the actual act of playing, and he hopes that one day he'll appreciate public performances as much as practicing. "My goal is for us to be who we are when we're rehearsing, but in front of a bunch of people."