There was an inexpressible emotion that was generated inside when I first listened to Wet. The first reverberating chord of their track “Don’t Wanna Be Your Girl” had an instant effect on me. All of my attention immediately honed in on what was being played. As that first chord faded away, another took its place. The sound refused to stop at my ears. I could feel the music resonating through my body, comfortably filling my chest with sublime euphony. In that moment, I felt a rare but relatable sensation. Everyone has felt it. Eyes closed, music up, window down. The feeling of musical tranquility. Only a handful of artists have been able to capture such an immeasurable affection. Now, Wet is a part of that glorified group.

This Massachusetts-based trio is composed of normal individuals: Joe, Kelly, and Marty. These are three people with real human emotions, just like you and me, and their music clearly exhibits that. Their four-song, self-titled EP is saturated with heartache and maintains a vacuum for happiness. But do not mistake that for blandness. Each second is rich with intimacy and sophistication.

On the outside, Wet appears to be another young and bold group trying to capitalize on the recent popularity of indie artists. That may or may not be true. I don’t know. But their songs tell a different story, and every one of their stories begins with Kelly Zutrau. She is the heart and soul of Wet. Not only does she write meaningful, raw lyrics that uncover a treacherous history, but she utilizes a beautiful voice with conviction. Kelly is a powerful vocalist. There is no doubt about that. It’s how she uses that power though. She isn’t a Beyonce type that belts each note with 110% intensity. She gives just a few sprinkles of vigor in her songs. You can feel a sense of dynamic control. The residue that lingers after these explosive moments leaves a warm feeling.

Kelly’s voice provides strength alongside her grief-stricken lyrics. People can sympathize with her because she sings about bitter, relatable experiences. The opening of “You’re The Best” provides a perfect example of this despair that everyone has felt.

All I know is

When you hold me

I still feel lonely

Wet has been put into many different categories and genres. The mixture of digital percussion with reverberating guitar tunes and soulful vocals has created a hybrid sound that no one can define without using at least four hyphens. Despite the genre confusion among listeners, Joe Valle and Marty Sulkow know exactly the direction Wet is taking with their music. They are the bones of the band; supplying any instrumental components needed to fulfill Kelly’s somber vision. But it’s more than just instruments. The two of them have created an aura with their music. I relate it to a novel. Joe and Marty establish the background setting with their ethereal accompaniments, and Kelly tells us a tragic story with her moving voice. All four songs have a different setting though. Each is equally dismal and solemn. “No Lie” provides an empty cathedral where the wooden snaps bounce off the large halls and Kelly’s voice is an archaic prophecy that acts as an incantation.

Wet doesn’t aim high. They aim to the left, and they hit it perfectly. They aren’t trying to be a mega band, hoping to produce top 40 hits one after another. They are a group of regular people trying to be heard, just like the rest of us. Wet is a catalyst for mournful serenity, calmly telling us, “Some days just aren't good for anything at all”.

Gavin Spilker is an incoming freshman at Sarah Lawrence College.