When Wunderhorse released ‘Arizona’ as the final single ahead of their second album ‘Midas’, it immediately felt like a pivotal moment, not just for the record, but for the band’s evolution. Led by Jacob Slater, Wunderhorse has always occupied the space where grit meets vulnerability, but ‘Arizona’ saw them leaning into an emotional honesty that is becoming increasingly rare in modern guitar music.
The Foundation: From ‘Cub’ to ‘Midas’
To understand the weight of ‘Arizona’, you have to look back at their 2022 debut, ‘Cub’. That record introduced us to a band capable of staggering range. It featured the grunge-fuelled angst of ‘Leader of the Pack’ and the sprawling, psychedelic heights of ‘Epilogue’. But it was the track ‘Teal’ that first signalled Slater’s ability to write a modern classic, a song so raw it felt like eavesdropping on a private breakdown.
If ‘Cub’ was the introduction, ‘Midas’ is the realisation. Recorded at Pachyderm Studio in Minnesota (where Nirvana recorded In Utero) with producer Craig Silvey, the album was designed to capture the band’s visceral live presence. It’s an album that crackles with imperfection, distorted guitars, unfiltered vocals, and a heartbeat you can almost feel beneath the mix. While tracks like ‘July’ and the title track ‘Midas’ roar with frustration and garage-punk urgency, ‘Arizona’ serves as the album’s quiet, aching centrepiece.
The Quiet Devastation of ‘Arizona’
At first glance, ‘Arizona’ feels like a simple, folk-leaning ballad. But the lyrics reveal a landscape of profound grief. The song opens with a haunting image: "There’s space that’s always empty / There’s a ghost without a name."
From the outset, Slater places us in the presence of absence. There is a strong suggestion of a life that never fully arrived. Many fans have interpreted ‘Arizona’ as a reflection on the unspoken trauma of miscarriage or abortion, a quietly devastating grief that society often leaves in the shadows.
The recurring question, "Where do you go to, my love?", is heartbreakingly simple. It isn't a question that expects an answer; it’s a looping ache, circling again and again in search of peace.

Mapping Grief
The second verse moves from the internal to the expansive:
"When it rains in Arizona / And the desert flowers bloom / There’s a wind that blows to Boston / And it sings the saddest tune"
The rare rain in the desert is a powerful symbol of memory returning unexpectedly, bringing sudden life to something you thought was gone. The most staggering moment, however, comes with the lines: "I never meant to hurt you / Or to tear you from this life / And I’m sorry if you suffered / When they turned out all the lights." There is a crushing sense of guilt here—an apology carried in silence for a long time. Whether literal or metaphorical, the sincerity in Slater’s delivery is palpable.
A Record of Catharsis
Across ‘Midas’, Wunderhorse explores the weight of modern alienation. The pacing is masterful:
But ‘Arizona’ stands apart. It doesn’t need to shout to be heard. While other songs grapple with the noise of the outside world, ‘Arizona’ is painfully inward. It is the sound of someone sitting alone with their grief.
The Verdict
In a world where music is often polished to a mirror sheen for viral attention, ‘Arizona’ is radical in its softness. Wunderhorse aren’t trying to impress; they are trying to tell the truth. If ‘Midas’ shows the band growing into their sound, ‘Arizona’ shows them growing into their humanity.
Alongside ‘Teal’, it stands as a defining moment for the band. Wunderhorse are no longer just "the next big thing" in British guitar music; they are one of the most vital voices we have. Where they go with record number three is anyone's guess, but they have already proven they can write extraordinary, timeless songs.