“Bring in the Wild” - Catherine Elms
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Let’s get one thing straight—Catherine Elms isn’t here to play it safe. With her new album Bring In the Wild, the Welsh alt-rock enchantress throws the doors wide open to the shadowy corners of her psyche—and invites us in for a slow, dramatic, and utterly mesmerizing look around.
This isn’t your standard soul-searching singer-songwriter fare. Bring In the Wild is a cinematic, emotionally bold, and thematically fearless 12-track journey into the parts of ourselves we usually shove into the basement: the anger, the jealousy, the bitterness, the ugly truths we’re taught to disown. But Catherine Elms—channeling a cocktail of Kate Bush’s theatrical flair, Fiona Apple’s raw emotion, and Nick Cave’s brooding grit—decides to crack open those hidden boxes and see what’s inside. The result is a powerful, often haunting, and entirely liberating listening experience.
From the moment the album opens, it’s clear we’re in Elms’ world now—a place where lush piano lines, moody synths, and gothic undertones swirl around unflinchingly honest lyrics. There’s a raw elegance to her sound: not overly polished, but carefully built.
Take the lead single “Medusa”, for example. It’s not just a song—it’s a reclamation. With venomous beauty, Catherine reclaims the infamous mythological figure not as a villain, but as a symbol of feminine rage and power misunderstood. “Brutal Heart” follows suit—sweeping, defiant, and deeply human. It’s about loving too hard, too deeply, and being unapologetic about the mess that comes with that. These tracks don’t ask for permission. They declare.
The entire album is threaded with Jungian psychology, as Catherine herself notes, exploring what happens when we stop suppressing the parts of ourselves we’re told are too dark, too much, too emotional. There’s something undeniably cathartic about it—this is shadow work, but make it anthemic. Some songs feel like emotional exorcisms, while others pull back the veil just enough to show us that softness and vulnerability are not weaknesses, but battle scars.
Photo Credit: Artist EPK
Catherine’s vocals are a storm in velvet. She can go from a whisper to a wail in a heartbeat, and she uses that dynamic range to gut-punch effect. Her voice isn’t just carrying the melody—it’s carrying the weight of everything she’s saying. And when she lets go, it’s goosebump-inducing.
What really sets Bring In the Wild apart is how carefully orchestrated the chaos is. The instrumentation—at times orchestral, at times minimalist—knows when to breathe and when to hit hard. It’s atmospheric rock, art-pop, dark cabaret… honestly, it defies labels, and that’s the point. Catherine Elms isn’t trying to fit into a box—she’s tearing them all down.
The production is cinematic without being bloated, intimate without feeling lo-fi. Special mention to the extended 16-track version available on Bandcamp.
This is an album to listen to in the bath with candles burning, or on a long night drive when you’re feeling too much. It’s gothic but not gloomy, poetic but punchy, deeply intellectual but still emotionally accessible.
With Bring In the Wild, Catherine Elms doesn’t just show us her shadow—she dances with it, wraps it in velvet, and invites us to do the same. This is more than an album—it’s a journey into radical self-acceptance. If you’ve ever felt “too emotional” or “too intense,” this record will feel like coming home.
Elms is the kind of artist who doesn’t just make music—she makes art that mirrors your soul back at you, and dares you to love what you see.
“Bring in the Wild” is available now on all major streaming platforms
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