Approaching Perfection #4: The Wrens - "The Meadowlands"

The Wrens only released one album between 1996's "Secaucus" and their 2021 split - at least it was a stone-cold classic.

We all have those undeniable records, the ones that always hit the mark. In the Approaching Perfection series, I will be exploring some of my all-time favourites and the stories behind my affection for them. This month, it’s the turn of New Jersey’s The Wrens and their triumphant swansong, The Meadowlands.

The Meadowlands: At the time we thought a seven year wait was noteworthy

“Keeping folks waiting. Since 1989.”

This in-joke — or fatal character flaw, depending on your perspective — has been emblazoned on The Wrens’ website for as long as I can remember. And I would know: I’ve checked that damn website countless times over the years, the hope of new music slowly fading to indifference. But let’s go back to the beginning.

The story of The Wrens’ final two decades very much depends on its narrator. Before this, at least there is a consensus.

Formed in New Jersey in 1989, the band signed to Grass Records — home of Toadies and Brainiac — and released two well-received indie rock albums, Silver (1994) and Secaucus (1996). At just under 69 minutes in length, Silver is very much a product of the CD era: plenty of ideas, not a great deal of editing or quality control. It’s a decent debut, but not something I feel compelled to return to. Secaucus is a different beast. It’s not The Meadowlands, but you can at least make out the foundations. If Silver demonstrated chemistry, Secaucus showed flashes of genuine magic: satisfying guitar sounds, sonic range, and great songwriting. The Wrens were poised for something special… and then they disappeared.

Seven years passed before the band’s third album, The Meadowlands, was eventually released, a casualty of record label politics. Grass was acquired by Alan Meltzer in 1996, who had a different vision for the label. The Wrens were offered a lucrative deal with one simple catch: write some hits. They declined, Meltzer signed the likes of Creed and Evanescence, and everyone involved made a lot of money. Except for The Wrens, of course, who lost money, momentum, and a decent chunk of their prime years.

Fortunately, The Meadowlands turned out to be a masterpiece.

The Wrens channelled all their frustrations — with the music business, yes, but also in the member’s gradually diverging personal lives — into a musical monument to heartbreak, regret, and the persistent ebbing away of time. It’s essentially the soundtrack to the despair of early mid-life suburban inertia (“The House That Guilt Built”), fading dreams (“This Boy Is Exhausted”), broken promises, missed opportunities, and the one(s) who got away (“She Sends Kisses”, “Thirteen Grand”).

Guitarist/vocalist/perfectionist Charles Bissell was a few months shy of forty when The Meadowlands came out; the other Wrens were a little younger. And me? I was 21, entering my penultimate year of medical school, and trying to sustain a long-distance relationship. I loved The Meadowlands then, but revisiting it as a 43-year-old I can relate to its themes more easily.

Life is good, but naturally, there are things I could have done differently. I’ve opened my mouth when I shouldn’t have and stayed quiet when it would have been far better to speak. I had musical dreams that I let drift away. I’ve made mistakes professionally — and in my line of work that comes with consequences. And there was that one time I got seriously addicted to online Chess.

The Meadowlands isn’t my story, but it encapsulates a feeling that I couldn’t empathise with in the mid-2000s. Another of my top-tier favourites, Big Star’s #1 Record is an early twenties kind of record. I connected massively when I first heard it and relate to it in a nostalgic sense now. Listening to The Meadowlands in 2025 doesn’t evoke that same nostalgia. It resonates with the present and makes me reflect on my friends, some of whom I have lost touch with, and others who are experiencing difficult times. I still don’t have an “Ex-Girl Collection” — that long-distance relationship turned into a marriage — but I’ve had front-row seats for enough break-ups and divorces to understand Charles Bissell’s sentiments on that standout.

Many of our favourites don’t stand the test of time. There are plenty of records I loved in 2003 that I’m relatively indifferent to these days (Mojave 3’s turgid Spoon and Rafter springs to mind). In contrast, my appreciation for The Meadowlands has evolved, growing with me. And crucially, its legacy also benefits from the fact they never managed to follow it up.

It’s impossible to discuss The Wrens without touching upon the band’s post-Meadowlands career, or lack thereof. And this is where the story diverges. Did Bissell’s crippling perfectionism thwart The Wrens? Did the professional success of the Whelan brothers and drummer Jerry MacDonald — all three have impressive corporate jobs outside of music — distort the timeline? Perhaps the critical success of The Meadowlands raised expectations to a level they simply couldn’t deal with? I’m sure there were many factors at play (Bissell was also diagnosed with multiple myeloma in the mid-2010s) and any narrative laying the blame at one member’s door is overly simplistic.

“I let my dreams sit on the bottom shelf for a long time. It’s a betrayal that I let a decade of my life go by and did nothing.”

— Kevin Whelan, interviewed by The Guardian

Ultimately, the delays, broken promises, U-turns, and the inevitable passage of time prompted Kevin Whelan — who reportedly laid down over 100 demos for a fourth Wrens album — to go it alone as Aeon Station, releasing the well-received Observatory in late 2021. Brother Greg and Jerry MacDonald contributed; Bissell, who logged hundreds of hours working on versions of Whelan’s songs, is credited as an engineer. It’s a great album in its own right, but it’s not a Wrens record — it lacks the competing perspectives.

Bissell responded by releasing a few tracks under a new moniker of his own, Car Colors. In a recurring theme, a promised album has not materialised. I guess when your mantra is “keeping folks waiting”, the habit can be hard to break.

The Meadowlands is more than likely the last thing we will hear from The Wrens as an active band. I hope the band can reconcile their differences and enjoy a victory lap, but at this point, even that looks unlikely.

The Wrens’ Spotify bio describes them as “one of the best bands with the worst luck,” but I don’t think luck is a factor. They were the plucky part-time underdogs who triumphed against the odds to release arguably the best indie-rock album of the 2000s. Following up The Meadowlands, with such a profound weight of expectation, challenged their underdog identity. I don’t think The Wrens ever really wanted that pressure — they turned down a seven-figure contract earlier in their career, after all — and luck had nothing to do with it. It’s just who they are — and it’s why The Meadowlands remains a wonderfully unique landmark in popular music.