B-Side Guys

Amelia Coburn rejects the damsel entirely. Her self-proclaimed folk horror aesthetic finds perfect expression in “Something Wild,” where the protagonist doesn’t flee the wolf but becomes it—shedding domestic constraints to embrace the predatory nature that fairytales taught us to fear. Supported by PRS Foundation’s Open Fund and inspired by feminist writers Angela Carter and Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Coburn channels women who’ve spent too long scrubbing stains and suppressing hunger into something that refuses further containment.

The imagery throughout tracks transformation from suffocation to liberation. Coburn opens with kitchen appliances and wedding rings as markers of death rather than life, the mundane hum of domesticity concealing rage swept under rugs and urges drowned out. But cleanliness never quite works—those tell-tale stains persist, evidence of something untamed beneath the surface. Her lyrical approach recalls Scott Walker’s literary precision while maintaining melodic accessibility that Paul McCartney would recognize, Coburn making the gothic sound approachable without diluting its darkness.

Ruth Lyon’s cinematic string arrangements provide the propulsive foundation, alongside a galloping guitar riff that mirrors the acceleration of escape. Bill Ryder-Jones’ production on her 2024 debut Between the Moon and the Milkman established her ability to balance shadow with charm, and “Something Wild” maintains that chiaroscuro quality—the transformation feels both terrifying and thrilling, violence and freedom inseparable. Coburn’s protagonist sharpens canines, sheds her sheepish shirt, follows the copper taste of need toward freedom rather than away from danger.

Fresh off her feature on Paul Weller’s Find El Dorado and preparing for her biggest London headline show at Royal Albert Hall’s Elgar Room, Coburn has cultivated a cult following through her nocturnal creatures and liminal spaces. “Something Wild” delivers what her admirers expect: vivid characters choosing feral authenticity over civilized performance. The song functions as reclamation project, repositioning the wolf not as threat but as the starved creature demanding release after years of suppression. Coburn understands that sometimes the monster isn’t what prowls outside but what you’ve been forced to keep locked within.