Will Wood - N CASE I DIE (Live) (2023)

Last summer, with the release of Will Wood's then-newest album, "In Case I Release It," word of his upcoming career hiatus was just beginning to spread. Since then, this break seems to have become the main topic of every interview and conversation with the musician: where is he going? Why is he leaving? And will he ever return?

The answer to at least one of these questions has come in the form of a new live album, out January 13, recorded over the course of his two national tours in 2022 and from a live in-studio session in his native New Jersey. Titled In Case I Die — not because Will Wood is planning to kick the bucket, but because “Will Wood” as we know him might — the musician’s self-proclaimed last album is both a farewell message and a career retrospective. It features a whopping 20 tracks spanning from as recent as 2022’s “in case I make it,” to as far back as 2015’s Everything Is A Lot, as well as two previously unreleased songs.

Unlike his only other live album, 2020’s The Real Will Wood, which amps up the chaos for the stage, In Case I Die presents a much more subdued version of its studio counterparts. But, having had the privilege of seeing Will Wood in concert four times now, I know as well as anyone that even with only a ukulele and a piano at his disposal, he is more than capable of moving his audience. The stripped-down, acoustic performances on In Case I Die find the artist at his rawest and most vulnerable — exactly as he wants us to remember him.

Nowhere is this vulnerability more evident than on “Cicada Days,” the opening track on In Case I Die and its first single. Will’s voice has bite in this performance: it’s all but a growl as he belts “Let all my RED flags fade to WHITE/Yeah, I give up!” (The cheers from the audience at this part are completely warranted — I remember the feeling). Unlike in the studio version, where the instrumentals become loudest and most aggressive at the bridge, Will sings this emotional climax almost entirely a cappella, rightfully showing off the maturity of his vocals.

One of the great things about live albums is getting to hear an artist improvise, whether it be changed lyrics or different musical and vocal flourishes. In the leadup to the bridge of “White Noise,” Will launches into a rhetorical monologue that is not present on the studio version, and you can almost feel the invisible audience’s anticipation growing as they wait for the “check, one, two.” When performed live, this song’s bridge practically begs for audience participation; listening to it instantly transported me back to a summer night in Sony Hall, surrounded by 400 fans euphorically screaming “Yes, it cures cancer!” Other little eccentricities of the live versions — the finger-snapping before Margaret’s name in “That’s Enough, Let’s Get You Home,” the extended knocking in “Vampire Reference in a Minor Key,” the ad-lib “My sponsor said do nothing/nothing works — and it really did” in “Cicada Days,” and the cheeky “RIP” after mentioning Her Majesty in “The Main Character” — are performance notes I’ll certainly be adding to my next carpool karaoke.

So far I’ve only spoken about songs from “in case I make it,” but the tracklist includes quite a few old crowd favorites. (See, he doesn’t hate his old work!) “The Song With Five Names” is the sole representative from SELF-iSH (2016), and one that I have always wanted to see live. The instrumental chaos of the studio version has been stripped down for the ukulele, but this performance somehow manages to retain the same riotous energy. The interludes between each verse and before the bridge are just as impassioned and fervent, and the audience, who can be heard singing and cheering throughout almost the entire recording, seems to agree. Another Will Wood classic, “Skeleton Appreciation Day,” is played in a slower rhythm than its studio counterpart, with plaintive strums on the ukulele as opposed to piano. It’s also in a lower key – G major instead of C – and the resulting timbre of Will’s voice feels richer and more mature.

Some of the other instrumental-heavy tracks, particularly “Laplace’s Angel” and “I/Me/Myself,” take on an entirely different feeling when reimagined with only a ukulele and Will’s voice. The latter in particular is softer, more contemplative, reflecting Will’s changing relationship with a song that has previously caused quite a bit of notoriety. (I do believe the inclusion of his disclaimer — “No, I actually really enjoy playing this song” — was a very intentional choice). The piano performances are reimagined as well: “Becoming the Lastnames” is somehow even more heart-wrenching with the intro played an octave higher, and the jaunty “Half-Decade Hangover” has an added sense of melancholy. Meanwhile, the gentle rendition of “Love, Me Normally” almost sounds like something one might hear at a glitzy supper club or speakeasy.

Will Wood has one more parting gift for us: two unreleased songs, never-before-heard by many fans. “…And If I Did, You Deserved It” finds Will brooding on the perils of fame and his futile attempts to satisfy an audience while also trying to preserve his own well-being, but with a cynical cockiness reminiscent of “The Main Character.” (The line “Don’t meet your idols — hey fuck you, I’m your idol” feels particularly targeted). “Misanthrapologist” was the song I was most excited about, after first hearing it as an unreleased demo and immediately becoming obsessed. This particular performance of it is perfectly sultry, with Will’s voice gliding effortlessly between low notes and falsetto, gentle and rough, on a saucy minor-key melody and a rhythm that is impossible not to dance to.

One of the most special things about Will Wood concerts, in my opinion, is the candid way he speaks to the audience between songs. While I wish more of that had made it on the album, I think the few places where it was included are all the more meaningful for it. The disclaimer before “I/Me/Myself” is one; Will’s admission, right before “White Noise,” that he has felt more connected to his fans than ever on tour is another. There’s a sense of finality to the way he says this, and I’m reminded that news of his hiatus was already widespread when this performance was filmed. While listening to In Case I Die, it’s hard not to dwell on the fact that it may be his final work. But because of this album, those of us who attended his shows get the chance to relive them over and over, and those who didn’t have a way to share those experiences. Now, as Will Wood departs from his music career feeling closer to his audience than ever before, I only hope that he knows we feel the exact same way.