MV Wells Steps Into His Own With Le Dauphin, a Lush, Strange and Deeply Personal Orchestral Pop Debut

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MV Wells Steps Into His Own With Le Dauphin, a Lush, Strange and Deeply Personal Orchestral Pop Debut
The Chicago songwriter draws on Burt Bacharach, Harry Nilsson, Sgt. Pepper, Pet Sounds, punk, dub and years in the city’s indie scene for a solo debut built around melody, orchestration, dark humor and the occasional left turn.

Chicago songwriter MV Wells spent years making music with bands including NE-HI and Spun Out, but somewhere along the way another collection of songs quietly began developing.

They were different.

Many began at the piano rather than the guitar. They were more melodic, more ornate and more personal. Wells heard something in them that connected to Burt Bacharach, Harry Nilsson, early John Lennon and the ambitious orchestral pop records of the late 1960s and early ’70s.

Eventually, he realized those songs belonged together.

The result is Le Dauphin, Wells’ debut solo album, released May 29, 2026, and a record that manages to be polished and deliberately strange at the same time.

“I had been putting these songs together over the years while playing in the other bands,” Wells explained. “I wanted to do something more in line with Burt Bacharach or Harry Nilsson.”

That meant changing his usual creative environment.

“I’m usually a guitar player, but most of this stuff was written on the piano for my own amusement,” he said. “One day, I realized they all kind of fit together and booked a recording session with my cousin Joshua Wells producing.”

That realization marked the beginning of more than simply another record.

It became Wells’ opportunity to find out what he sounded like when he was completely responsible for the artistic identity.

A Solo Record That Couldn’t Be Compromised

Wells had carried an idea for years of making what he calls a genuine piano-based ’60s or ’70s-style pop album, complete with strings and brass in the tradition of records such as Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and Pet Sounds.

The music he had made previously often occupied a much rougher space.

“Most of the projects I’ve been in have more of a punky edge to them—much more collaborative, too,” Wells said.

These songs demanded something else.

“This stuff felt like a more personal homage that I didn’t want to compromise on.”

That distinction is important because Le Dauphin never sounds as though Wells is merely trying to recreate an old record.

He clearly loves classic pop craftsmanship, but he is equally interested in damaging the perfection just enough to make it his own.

That philosophy extends all the way to the title.

Le Dauphin was the term used for the heir apparent to the French throne, particularly the eldest son of the king.

For Wells, the phrase captured both the elegance of the arrangements and his relationship to the records that inspired him.

“I wanted that elegance, that kind of heightened style shown in the music—more ornate and lush than I had previously done in the past,” Wells explained.

“Le Dauphin is what they called the heir to the French throne, so I thought of it as an heir to those great baroque pop records I had mentioned.”

Even the album’s visual presentation reflects that ambition. The artwork comes from Paul Whitehead, whose celebrated work includes covers associated with early Genesis, while photography is credited to Alexa Viscius, with additional photography by Katherine Levi.

Homage Without Becoming Pastiche

The reference points surrounding Le Dauphin are considerable.

Nilsson.

Bacharach.

Electric Light Orchestra.

The Beach Boys.

Early solo Lennon.

Nick Lowe.

Destroyer.

Whitney.

There are echoes of psychedelic pop, yacht rock, art pop, indie rock and progressive textures throughout the album.

Wells, however, approaches those influences with one important rule.

“My intuition is usually to do that kind of classic pop style and throw at least one thing in it that gives it a left turn,” he said.

Sometimes that disruption is a production decision.

Sometimes it comes through the lyrics.

Sometimes it is simply in the way Wells delivers a vocal.

“I love homage but not pastiche,” he explained, “and I’m very influenced by punk music and dub, as well. That side of my tastes keeps it fresher in my eyes versus being overly nostalgic.”

That may be one of the clearest explanations of why Le Dauphin works.

It understands the language of classic pop without turning into a museum exhibit.

Wells can embrace warm harmonies, elegant chord changes, strings and horns, then introduce something noisy, funny, uncomfortable or unexpectedly heavy.

The record respects its influences without being afraid to argue with them.

Melody Comes First

For all the instrumentation surrounding the record, Wells says the foundation remained surprisingly simple.

Most songs started with him sitting at a piano and searching for a melody.

“The vocal and the chords would interact and I’d sort of push them one way or another,” he said.

Some compositions developed differently. Wells might begin with a production concept or an arrangement idea and keep constructing versions until the idea became a recognizable song.

Lyrics frequently came later.

“I may have a lyrical idea beforehand, particularly with the concept of the title Le Dauphin, but I’m generally trying to use them as my last ingredient, so it feels fresh and more poetic.”

That melody-first approach became the foundation upon which the album’s much larger sound could eventually be built.

The record was made in Chicago at Palisade and The Mango Pit with Wells’ cousin and longtime collaborator Joshua Wells, whose credits include work with Black Mountain and Destroyer.

The initial piano and rhythm-section tracking gave MV Wells the skeleton.

The vocals told him where the songs needed to go.

But the album did not fully become Le Dauphin until the orchestration arrived.

“Once the strings and brass sections were added, the concept came to fruition and felt like how I had envisioned the piece as a whole,” Wells said.

Building a Big Sound Without Burying the Songs

Strings, brass, synthesizers and layered vocals can quickly turn an elegant arrangement into a traffic jam.

Wells avoided that problem by beginning with detailed demos.

“I make demos and will flesh out how the vocals sit in the arrangement, and sometimes I’ll do some synthesizers to mock the strings,” he explained.

Joshua Wells then took much of that framework and expanded it.

“Generally the string and brass arrangements were written by Josh Wells and then we would do some editing together during the mixing process,” MV said. “He really is talented.”

Joshua also handled drums, percussion and a substantial amount of the album’s sonic architecture.

The broader instrumental cast includes Olivia Love on violin, Benjamin Kalb on cello and Joe Lill on trumpet and flugelhorn.

For MV Wells, the relationship with Joshua worked because the producer understood how to serve an artist’s idea without replacing it with his own.

“He certainly made it easier to make the initial vision come true,” Wells said. “He’s very good at encapsulating what the artist wants without overstepping.”

Joshua’s own personality nevertheless remains present.

“His textures and ideas he has during the tracking and overdubbing make the album feel really alive and, again—fresh!”

The two musicians have worked together long enough to understand where their instincts intersect.

“He has a sound and so do I,” Wells said. “We’ve worked together long enough to complement each other, and this record really shows that.”

When Too Much Becomes Exactly Enough

Not every song required restraint.

Sometimes Wells and company deliberately pushed an arrangement far beyond its original boundaries and then figured out later what needed to survive.

The most extreme example may be “I Won’t Say.”

The track began in relatively modest territory.

“‘I Won’t Say’ started as a real bare-bones Lennon-esque thing,” Wells recalled.

It did not stay that way.

The song eventually transformed into what Wells describes as a “monster, noisy prog jam” with shoegaze elements and a ferocious free-jazz/blues saxophone performance from his longtime friend Caleb Westphal.

“That one we put a million layers on and then peeled back certain things enough for the listener,” Wells said.

Somewhere, apparently, an even more excessive version still exists.

“One day we will release an alternative mix!”

Dark Humor Under the Pretty Melodies

The sophistication of the arrangements can initially make Le Dauphin sound romantic.

Listen closer and things become considerably less comfortable.

Wells deliberately avoids what he considers predictable lyrical choices.

“I try not to evoke too many clichés lyrically,” he said, “but I do use a lot of double entendre and dark humor to kind of detach from the more lovey-dovey style songs.”

That contrast allows him to address difficult emotions without turning every song into a dramatic confession.

“My writing is usually very personal, so I feel like there’s a lot of humor in it, as well as sadness,” he said. “I try not to take myself too seriously, but I do like to get heavy topic-wise.”

That makes Le Dauphin several things at once.

It can function as autobiography.

It can function as fiction.

It can function as character study.

And sometimes the boundary between all three disappears.

“The character Le Dauphin is probably some kind of version of myself,” Wells explained. “But I think there’s also other characters in the album.”

His own life provides the emotional source material, but abstraction gives him room to transform those experiences into something larger.

“I use my own experiences to evoke the emotions I inject into the material,” Wells said. “Abstraction is used frequently, but more as a color in the painting versus the main objective.”

His visual-art analogy may be the best way to approach the entire album.

“I think of the record as kind of Symbolistic or Impressionistic—if you pull back enough you see the form of everything.”

“Farewell” Came From Grief

One song did not require that kind of distance.

The album-closing “Farewell” came from the death of Wells’ grandfather.

It was one of the easiest songs to write in terms of process—and one of the hardest emotionally.

“I wrote it very quickly a day or two after he died,” Wells said.

There was no complicated intellectual exercise involved.

“It’s very simple, but very emotional for me and kind of poured out of me.”

Wells describes the experience in language other songwriters have used when discussing songs that seem to arrive rather than get constructed.

“It’s one of those tunes from the ether that happen every so often, like you channel them,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot of songwriters talk about writing tunes like that, and that’s one of mine.”

The simplicity is part of what makes the song so important.

After an album filled with elaborate arrangements and adventurous production choices, Le Dauphin ends somewhere deeply human.

Three Songs That Existed Before the Album Did

Among the record’s central tracks are “Dreaming About You,” “Love Unseen” and “Tropic De Novo.”

Their importance goes beyond simply being singles or accessible entry points.

They existed before Wells fully understood that there was going to be an MV Wells solo record.

“These are the tunes that I had before I thought an album or a solo project existed,” he said.

Together, they establish much of the language the rest of Le Dauphin would eventually speak.

“They hit those touchstones: poppy hooks, sonic experimentation and personal lyrics meeting a story I’ve created with the themes of loss, loneliness and yearning.”

For listeners looking for one song that explains the entire project, Wells points toward “Dreaming About You.”

“‘Dreaming About You’ is a good jump-off point,” he said. “It explores the whole sound within a few minutes and you can actually dance to it, too!”

That last part matters.

For all the discussion about orchestration, symbolism and sophisticated songwriting, Wells has not forgotten that pop music can also simply feel good.

What Chicago Taught Him

Wells’ development did not happen in isolation.

He spent years moving through Chicago’s indie circuit, playing in bands, performing in clubs and absorbing the attitude of a city filled with artists who often make music with little guarantee that anybody outside the room will care.

That environment affected him less in terms of a particular “Chicago sound” than in an approach to work.

“I play for myself mostly nowadays, but the work ethic and the daring that happens in Chicago is what I relate to most,” he said.

The city constantly introduced Wells to people whose music might have had very little in common with his own.

That did not make them less influential.

“I’ve met so many great artists and musicians living in Chicago that there’s always a wealth of inspiration purely from people’s attitudes towards putting out good material, even if the sounds are wildly different from my own tastes.”

That spirit—make something good, take a chance, put it into the world—runs through Le Dauphin.

A Departure That Is Also a Continuation

Stylistically, Wells recognizes that this record represents a substantial change from some of his previous work.

Personally, he sees it as part of the same education.

“I feel like it’s a continuation of my own record producing, in that I’m only getting better and learning more and more,” he said.

“Stylistically, it is a departure, but a welcome one.”

It also forced Wells to develop skills he had not previously relied upon.

“I learned how to play the piano making this record,” he said, “and I figured out how to exist on my own as an artist, too.”

That second discovery may ultimately prove more important than the first.

A solo debut can be intimidating precisely because nobody else exists to absorb the consequences of the decisions.

For Wells, that freedom has become energizing.

Critically, the response has already delivered a few meaningful moments.

“I’ve had a lot of great responses from listeners who give it a chance,” he said.

One reaction mattered in particular.

“Dan from Destroyer liked it, and that’s a huge win for me, as I really dig his work.”

But Wells’ definition of success extends beyond reviews.

“Personally, I’m excited to step out on my own as a solo artist,” he said. “Creatively, it’s highly satisfying.”

And he is already moving forward.

“I’m already putting another record together, but it’s quite different, so I hope people will keep listening and exploring these musical ambitions with me.”

The Record and the Live Show Are Different Creatures

Recreating Le Dauphin live presents an obvious problem.

An album filled with strings, horns, vocal layering, synthesizers and elaborate studio arrangements does not simply walk onto the stage intact.

Wells does not want it to.

Rather than attempting to perfectly reproduce the record every night, he has begun developing multiple approaches to performing the material.

“I started putting a couple different backing groups together,” he said.

“One’s more of the record mixed with rock ’n’ roll and the other is more folky or classical.”

That gives him the ability to shape a performance around the room, the musicians and the occasion.

“I really try to approach everything as almost separate projects—the record versus the live show,” Wells explained. “Every tour or show can be different.”

He is particularly interested in using concerts as a place to take risks.

“I also like to be way more adventurous in my live show and do different arrangements and morph some of the material to the band or the venue.”

So what can audiences expect when Wells brings the music into intimate spaces such as Color Club or The Sinkhole?

His answer is considerably shorter than his arrangements.

“Intensity, showmanship, and a few laughs.”

The Next Record Won’t Sound Like This One

Perhaps the clearest sign that Wells has found confidence as a solo artist is that he is already preparing to abandon much of the sonic vocabulary he just established.

The next project is moving back toward the guitar.

“My next record is guitar-oriented,” he revealed.

Acoustic and jangly guitars are becoming more prominent, along with Celtic and folk instrumentation.

The reference points are changing as well.

“It’s more in the vein of The Byrds or Van Morrison, but also punky.”

That may be the real lesson Wells took from making Le Dauphin.

The goal was never to discover one permanent sound.

It was to discover the freedom to follow the next idea.

You’re Not the Only One Who Feels Alone

Underneath all the elaborate arrangements, strange production decisions, literary imagery, dark humor and stylistic ambition, Wells sees one remarkably simple emotional idea at the center of Le Dauphin.

Everyone feels alone sometimes.

And paradoxically, that shared loneliness can connect people.

“Everyone feels alone sometimes,” Wells said, “which makes you not alone!”

It is an appropriately human message for a record that spends so much time balancing grandeur against vulnerability.

And Wells hopes listeners resist the temptation to categorize the album too quickly.

“This is simultaneously a rock record, an arty record, a pop record, and a heavy record,” he said. “There’s something for everyone.”

Perhaps that is why Le Dauphin can move from bright piano-driven pop to strings, brass, progressive noise, shoegaze textures, dark humor and genuine grief without feeling as though somebody accidentally shuffled several different albums together.

The record is not interested in choosing between being accessible and adventurous.

Wells wants both.

And despite its ornate construction, he does not envision Le Dauphin as something that belongs exclusively to critics, collectors or headphone obsessives.

“It’s meant to be listened to on the radio,” he said, “and on vinyl at home.”

After years spent helping define the personalities of other bands, MV Wells has finally stepped out under his own name.

Le Dauphin may be a debut, but it does not sound like somebody beginning.

It sounds like somebody who spent years gathering ideas, influences, mistakes, melodies and experiences until he finally had enough pieces to construct a world of his own.

A little Bacharach.

A little Nilsson.

A little Lennon.

A little punk.

A little dub.

Some Chicago.

Some loneliness.

Some dark humor.

And just when the listener thinks they understand where the song is headed, one more left turn.

That, ultimately, may be the most revealing definition of MV Wells.

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