Jason Lytle has always written in the folk tradition. Even in his early songs as Grandaddy, the Californian gravitated toward fictional narratives, aphoristically making sense of technological anxiety like a Pete Seeger or Judy Collins at the turn of the millennium. Instead of lamenting the uniform “little boxes” of postwar suburbia, Lytle channeled the alienation born of even smaller boxes—computer monitors, cubicles—into evergreen bullies. Pouring his emotions into our surroundings, organic and non-organic, Lytle universally attributed them to their profound specificity: “Grieve like a freeway tree,” he sang in 2017 Last seat, capturing a sadness so uniquely American and yet so instantly relatable. On Blu WavGrandaddy's first album in seven years, Lytle leans into a bittersweet Americana twang, a natural fit for his fatally flawed, cautiously optimistic cast of characters.
The inspiration for the turn to country came when Lytle heard singer Patti Page's 1950 hit “Tennessee Waltz” on his car radio. Impressed by both the song's time signature—he felt he was already writing naturally in a 3/4 or 6/8 waltz—and its soft, striking chords, he set out to make an album in a similar style. He captured his aesthetic vision in the title phrase, a portmanteau of bluegrass and new wave — and since it wouldn't be a proper Grandaddy title without at least one double meaning, “wav” also refers to the lossless audio format.
Partially, Blu Wav reminiscent of what some writers have called “secular country” (or if you want to sound really smug, “bootgaze”), where acts like SUSS and Luke Schneider combine traditional folk instruments like lap steel guitar with modular synthesizers and drum machines. With the addition of Max Hart's pedal steel, Blu Wav sounds as expansive as the open road: “Cabin in My Mind” layers flurries of synths and soft guitar over Hart's tuned melodies, a warm invitation to Lytle's imaginary oasis. On “Long as I'm Not The One,” Hart's pedal steel and some well-placed bass conjures Grandaddy as Emo Morricone, singing about loneliness over swelling chords that bring to mind an endless western stretch. His instrumentals – 'Let's Put This Pinto on the Moon' and 'Yeehaw AI in the Year 2025' – take a much more impressionistic approach, recalling David Bowie's atmospheric Berlin Trilogy work with Brian Eno. Amid the gurgling machine beeps, sounds from Lytle's home recording facility creep into the mix—coyotes howling, wind whipping the walls—forming a cinematic juxtaposition of everyday life with alien synth sounds. It's not quite familiar, but it's not exactly scary either: Blu Wav lives in the eerie in-between.
