I've never heard them, but if their music is as stupid as their name, I'll take a pass.
I did find this interesting article that addresses the bevy of wolf-related monikers:
Raised By Wolves
By Alexandria Symonds
There’s a YouTube video series called “The Last of the Hipsters.” It isn’t all that funny, but it does feature at least one pertinent answer to the question, “Do you think any girls survived the apocalypse?”
The response? “Well, I still only date girls who listen to Wolf Eyes seriously and Wolf Parade ironically.”
It seems like a throwaway line, but think about it: both Wolf Eyes and Wolf Parade feature Sub Pop certification—the first step to discerning indie-kid approval—and favorable Pitchfork coverage. But Wolf Eyes is a noise-rock threesome that boasts legendary credentials: Andrew W.K. is a former member and they’ve toured with Sonic Youth. Wolf Parade started as a side project formed to support an Arcade Fire tour—in other words, way too mainstream for the shrewd hipster to pay serious attention.
It does beg the question, though: what’s with the influx of lupine-themed bands and artists recording today? Parade and Eyes are certainly in varied—if not necessarily always good—company. Look at the Oh My Rockness gig listing on any given week and you’re bound to find some combination of the ten or so groups on the scene who draw inspiration from the noble animal.
The odd thing is how many different—and specific—demographics these bands cater to. For Japanese punk lovers, there’s Guitar Wolf. For the folksy-chillout-singalong crowd, there’s Jason Anderson, better known as Wolf Colonel. Fans of high-drama, baroque-pop divas can look no further than Patrick Wolf (née Patrick Apps—the reference is deliberate, not a genealogical coincidence). If you like your music a little hard to listen to, there’s dissonant experimental group AIDS Wolf. Not to mention Peanut Butter Wolf, Sea Wolf, Peter and the Wolf, the more mainstream Wolfmother, and We Are Wolves. For the Francophile, there’s the arty, Broken Social Scene-meets-Sufjan Stevens seven-member group, Le Loup, who made waves at this year’s CMJ Festival.
The wolf occupies a unique place in indie taxonomy—no other noun provides such a clear snapshot of the nebulous character of the indie scene. These bands fill small, specific sub-subgenres—it’s dismissive to call a band like We Are Wolves simply “indie rock” without highlighting their post-punk inclinations. Sure, there are the ursine and cervine counterparts—Panda Bear and Grizzly Bear; Deertick, Deerhunter, Deerhoof. But the examples are fewer and farther between, and taken together they don’t represent the same complete landscape. And, of course, if you break out your vinyl, you can listen to the retro-kitsch (so popular with the Sub-Pop set) of Steppenwolf.
So what is it, exactly, about the wolf aesthetic that today’s musician finds so fascinating? In most cases, it seems like the answer is lack of a better option. Wolf Parade’s official bio tells the story of the band’s nomenclature as follows:
“Great,” they said. “Now we need a name.”
“How about Wolf Parade?”
“No, that’s stupid.”
“Okay, well, what about Wolf Parade?”
“Who are you? I’m drunk.”
“Wait, I’ve got it ...Wolf Parade!”
“Perfecto Mondo!”
AIDS Wolf’s Serigraphie Populaire—Seripop to fans—explained in an October 2005 interview with Discorder that their name served as an homage to An Albatross and Sick Lipstick, as well as “a message that we as humans must take care for our animal siblings as their health is a barometer of our own survival.” You think she’s being sarcastic until she goes on to advise fans to pick up careers in organic farming instead of becoming designers.
Le Loup, on the other hand, may be part of a new generation of “wolf” bands: those that pile an extra level of self-awareness on top of the already dubious affinity for the animal. In an interview with the DCist blog, the band acknowledged that its name was rejected by a former project in which Le Loup co-founder Sam Simkoff was involved. “It was probably a joke—something along the lines of, ‘Look how many bands right now use the word “wolf” in their name—how can we capitalize upon that? Now how can we make it sound even more pretentiously indie? Say it in French!’”
For Alex Brown Church, alias Sea Wolf, the association is a more earnest one. He told TA Live that “as an imaginative, only child that lived in the country and played in the woods alone a lot, I identified with the wolf. I always had a strong love of animals, and I think I felt like I connected with them more than a lot of the people around me at the time. I think the thing I always liked about them was how intelligent and beautiful they are, and also felt like I related to how misunderstood they were.” A real sea wolf is, of course, a kind of catfish—but don’t tell Church that.
Maybe that’s the irony of the wolf situation: the animal is rife with clashing symbolism that seems designed for the Chunklet-reading, free trade coffee-toting Lower East Sider. The wolf considers itself a loner—yet it travels in a pack for protection. There’s a certain element of danger left over from fairy tales—but evil never wins out. It makes a lot of sense, then, that Alex Brown Church relates to the wolf as a fellow misunderstood spirit ... just like everybody else does.
