Craig Wedren has one of the most distinctive voices in rock. How it is that he managed to avoid becoming a household name is a bit of a mystery. Pony Express Record, his 1994 major label debut with Shudder to Think, the band that he got his start with in D.C. in the mid-80s, should have been a huge breakthrough. It was an adventurous record of inventive, art-damaged post-punk, all shifting time signatures and angular guitars, presided over by Wedren’s inimitable voice, which could turn from soaring falsetto to delicate tremelo to menacing growl on a dime. The record’s biggest asset, that it sounded nothing like anything else that was out at the time, may have also prevented it going much farther than it did. Had satellite radio and music blogs existed at the time, I still say they could have been huge. As Shudder moved on, their work became more and more difficult to pin down; two film soundtracks showed their ability to shift genres with chameleon grace, and their final record, ’97’s 50,000 B.C., confounded some longtime fans with its stripped-down simplicity and pop leanings.
Since the their 1999 demise, Wedren has continued on the same arc he was on with the band. He has expanded his film and television soundtrack work, frequently collaborating with his old friends from comedy troup The State and their associated projects, while continuing to work on music under his own name and in collaborations with other bands like Tweaker and Cex. In 2005, he released his first solo record, Lapland. In its more off-kilter moments, it sounds much like one imagines a subsequent Shudder to Think album might have. Indeed, some of the material was originally written with them in mind. His current project may be his most ambitious: a sprawling film soundtrack for a film that has yet to be made, reversing the usual relationship between music and film. Considering the many phases and faces Wedren has been through in his now two-decades long career, tomorrow’s DAM!Fest appearance at the Rock & Roll Hotel should be an eclectic night.
How long has it been since you’ve played a show in D.C.?
I played a show there two years ago, which was beautiful — a real homecoming vibe, intimate and sweet, at the Black Cat. Before that, it’d probably been about 8 yrs. Scary.
Is there a sense in which playing here feels like coming home, or have you lived elsewhere long enough that it doesn’t feel that different from other towns anymore?
No, I get super-nervous and emotional playing in D.C. More than anywhere else, I think, because I was there for the end of high school and the beginning of Shudder To Think, which is a powerful cocktail — formative and formidable. And also because, coming from such origins — creatively rich and principled — I feel I need to really Bring It.
