Andrew W.K.’s debut album, I Get Wet, is either brilliant or idiotic, depending on your perspective. It’s a beautifully dumb pop-metal record, which takes the format of ’80s hair-rock anthems and simplifies the already dunderheaded medium, whittling the non-complexities into drums, power chords, glossy synth lines, and Sesame Street melodies. Is Andrew W.K. a satirical panderer to the lowest common denominator, or is he simply some sort of dumb-rock savant, blessed with the ability to spew forth an endless supply of bite-sized morsels of absurdly catchy?
The beautiful thing about I Get Wet is that it doesn’t matter.
As I scour the internet for critical takes on the album from its release, one thing is clear: this is one of the most overthought albums in rock history. I’m guilty too — as you can see, I’ve already dumped 100 words on it which, on the surface, is about 95 words more than I really need — but man, some of this stuff goes in-depth. Lengthy histories about AWK as an avant-garde pianist who corrected course after no one was interested in his smart music; postulating at length about 9/11 and the cultural need for escapism after the towers fell. Which is all valid when establishing context, sure, but I Get Wet is simplistic, single-minded party rock, insidiously catchy, boasting no fat content or added preservatives.
This is a dude peddling big dumb rock, about two minutes at a time, for a half-hour. It’s addictive, and it’s wonderful.
It’s the candied pop-rock of Def Leppard, sped up and doubled-down on the drums. It betrays no hint of self-awareness, of wink-nudge irony, or of anything deeper than what’s on the surface. W.K. doesn’t tip his hat. He sings about fun (“Fun Night”), New York City (“I Love NYC”), and, most of all, partying (“Party Hard”, “It’s Time To Party”, “Party Til You Puke”). He sings these in a full-bore rasp, the intensity belying the weightlessness of his lyrics; he also arranges them with the precision of a composer, each morsel genetically engineered for youthful exuberance and enthusiastic headbanging, each melody worming insidiously into the brain until the next so-dumb-it’s-brilliant track comes down the pike.
Andrew W.K. is the type of dude who will rhyme “ain’t no worry” with “in no hurry”, and you see it coming a mile away and can’t help but love it anyway, somehow. This is the type of record everyone needs to allow themselves to love; let your serious-minded snobbery drip away in the wake of the tasty synths and gang vocals and just enjoy.
Consider this: this album’s power ballad (and second single, after the miracle of pure energy “Party Hard”) is called “She Is Beautiful”. Andrew W.K. sings it without a hint of irony — the girl he’s singing about is beautiful, damn it, and he’ll shout it from the rafters — but he doesn’t let up one bit. With different lyrics, “She Is Beautiful” and its big, ascending guitar line could have been an alternate track called “Party Your Balls Off” or something like that. W.K. has no time to let a decreased tempo and a gentle piano intro let you know that he’s in love — he’s going to celebrate it the same way he celebrates his city and his mosh pits and his booze, and that’s by shouting it in your face over a headbanging instrumental. That might be all you need to know about I Get Wet, a tight, balls-catchy album that wields its brevity and single-mindedness so well it’s astonishing.
Playlist track: If your playlists don’t already feature “Party Hard”, I don’t know that I can help you.
Drew's Album of the Day 