There’s never been another band quite like Cocteau Twins. Not before, not since. Still, for all of their idiosyncrasies and obscurity, they cast a long shadow. Their influence can be heard in bands like Sigur Ros, My Bloody Valentine, Deftones, Smashing Pumpkins, and the legions of acts that those bands influenced.

But Cocteau Twins didn’t become Cocteau Twins™ out of the gate. The ethereal dream pop giants cut their teeth in the post punk and goth scene of the early ’80s before becoming untethered in the clouds (Elizabeth Fraser notably has a Siouxsie and the Banshees tattoo on one arm). And while their debut Garlands received plenty of praise in the post punk scene, Head Over Heels is where they start to pupate into something entirely unique.

When I reviewed my first run of Cocteau Twins records eleven (oh god) years ago, I talked like I was way more familiar with post punk and goth than I was. Treasure sounded almost hopelessly dated to me, still tethered to the “Joy Division influence” that I heard there. But at that time, Joy Division was really my only exposure to that entire scene. I wouldn’t give the Cure a proper chance until five years later (and they wouldn’t hit me until just a few months ago). I had only heard a couple New Order records. I was entirely ignorant to Bauhaus or Siouxsie or This Mortal Coil or so many other essential bands in the swirling swamp between post punk and goth. I was far more familiar with the bands they had influences than their own inspirations, and so I judged those records—especially Treasure against the likes of Beach House and Atlas Sound.

Now, Cocteau Twins are one of my favorite bands. Late 70s/early 80s post punk has become one of my favorite periods of music. I still haven’t gotten into Siouxsie and the Banshees, but that’s neither here nor there. Point being, though, I’m far more equipped to talk intelligently about Cocteau Twins than I was then.

For most of my experience with Cocteau Twins, I’ve seen Treasure as the most natural starting point: the moment where they cast off their post punk cacoon and emerged as dream pop legends. As such, I’ve only explored after that point, never before.

Fool that I was.

While Treasure is in fact the first record that finds them wholly displaying their trademark sound, that transformation started on Head Over Heels. Elizabeth Fraser began to eschew the limitations of language proper and started to use syllables for their emotional resonance alone. While there are discernable words in the lyrics, they are organized in nonsensical ways. Take for instance, “When Mama Was Moth,” where she sings, “The sunburst and the snowblind / I’d seen the(I shouldn’t) fear running down my brook / When mama was moth, I took bulb form.” That’s about as clear as the lyrics get.

Even more notable though was the shift in instrumentation, which is wholly the work of Robin Guthrie on this record, as their original bassist had not yet been replaced here. Of particular note is his guitar playing, which featured far more liberal use of effects and multitracking to create huge, spacious washes of guitar noise. If it were a few years later, this record would have been lumped in with shoegaze without hesitation. Many of the moments feel even more shoegazey than Isn’t Anything, and I will absolutely throw down over that.

There are some moments that feel kinda un-Cocteau Twinsy, and more that feel like Cocteau Twins in utero. “Multifoiled” rides an almost honky-tonk piano figure through the ethereal soundscape. “The Tinderbox (Of a Heart)” plinks on a xylophone patch. “When Mama was Moth” is nearly as dark as Bauhaus with a brooding synth line carrying the progression. “In Our Angelhood” is manic and fierce with a roaring guitar line that is as chilling as anything on Unknown Pleasures. “My Love Paramour” hides a Bernard Sumner-y string scrape between reverb-drenched sheets of guitar chords.

But make no mistake: their trademarks are well in hand here. “When Mama…” might be more of a nightmare than a dream, but it fits right into the group’s later dream pop. You could sneak “Sugar Hiccup” onto Heaven or Las Vegas without raising an eyebrow. Closer “Musette and Drums” is a few pounds beefier than anything they’ve done since, but it’s pure Cocteau.

For all the parsing of its place in their catalog though, Head Over Heels is plenty capable of standing on its own. While they certainly got dreamier and gauzier later on, if they called it a day after this record, they would likely have a similarly lofty position in the canon of pop music as they do. But boy, am I ever glad they didn’t.