Record #1008: Cocteau Twins & Harold Budd – The Moon & The Melodies (1986)

As long as I’ve been a fan, Victorialand has been my favorite Cocteau Twins record. It’s an odd moment in their discography to be sure: it was the only record created solely by founders Elizabeth Fraser and Robin Guthrie, and it is devoid of any sort of percussion. Instead of their ubiquitous drum machines, they lean more fully into atmospheric washes and endless stretches of echo. My only complaint with it is that it’s only thirty-three minutes long, and that I need more of that version of the band.

There’s some good news there. Because even though Victorialand is the only outright ambient entry in their main catalogue, it does have a fine companion. Later that year, the members of Cocteau Twins—credited by name on the jacket—joined with minimalist composer Harold Budd to create The Moon & The Melodies. And while the name “Cocteau Twins” never actually appears anywhere on the packaging, it’s still very much in the Twins’ wheelhouse.

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Record #982: Blushing – Sugarcoat (2024)

The last two times I’ve reviewed a Blushing record, I talked a lot about the tightrope that shoegaze acts have to walk between capturing the archetypal early 90s sounds of the genre and finding their own voice. By their third full length, Blushing walks this balance so deftly that mentioning it would be a moot point.

Sugarcoat offers up the same sweet, dreamy songcraft that the group has made their career on, but there’s a palpable confidence here. They’re even more fluent, and the vocabulary sounds more comfortable in their mouths.

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Record #971: Morella’s Forest – Ultraphonic Hiss (1996)

As a music fan in the pre-streaming era, one of the best tools at your disposal was the back catalogs of your favorite record labels. And as a youth group kid in the early 2000s, I was naturally a huge acolyte of the Christian punk label Tooth & Nail Records.

As a fan of bands like Further Seems Forever, mewithoutYou, and Stavesacre though, there were some surprises waiting in their back catalog. The label was a surprising hotbed of shoegaze, lo-fi, and dreampop in the ’90s. Punk acts like MxPx and Ghoti Hook were labelmates with bands like Mike Knott, Starflyer 59, and Morella’s Forest. These last two bands would be my entry point into shoegaze, years before I had the language for it.

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Record #965: bdrmm – Bedroom (2020)

Any sort of appeal to nostalgia has a fair amount of revisionism. The real life nuance that marked an era is too detailed for contemporary acolytes to keep track of, so they opt instead for broad strokes and general shapes. The shoegaze revival of the last several years is especially guilty of this, whittling down the (actually quite diverse) scene of the late ’80s and early 90s into a few landmark albums and a couple combinations of effects pedals.

But when you’re studying Loveless and Souvlaki for inspiration, you might miss that shoegaze was initially an offshoot of post punk and goth, using a vibrant color palette of pinks and violets to fill in the gloomy, monochromatic sparseness of their antecedents.

You can make solid shoegaze without diving too deep into that history. But when a band looks to the same influences as the shoegaze heroes of old, something special happens.

For instance, Bedroom by the British outfit bdrmm, which captures the dreamy landscapes of shoegaze while exercising a simplicity that feels more Joy Division than My Bloody Valentine.

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Record #962: A.R. Kane – Sixty-nine (1988)

It’s said that there is a fine line between genius and madness. I’m not sure just how universally true that axiom is, but in the case of Sixty-nine, the debut full length from British dream pop duo (note: they coined that term themselves), they ride that line like Slim Pickens at the end of Dr. Strangelove.

The record is fiercely experimental—to the point that it’s almost a wonder that anyone agreed to release it. Nevertheless, the record became a huge influence on trip hop, post rock, and shoegaze.

I want to be clear that I love this record. There is nothing quite like it. But as is often the case with these sorts of artistic milestones, the scope of its influence may far outshine the record itself. Not everything thrown at the wall sticks. In fact, depending on my mood, this might strike me as completely transcendent, or as the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Continue reading

Record #951: Cocteau Twins – The Pink Opaque (1986)

If I may allow another exception to my general dislike of compilations…

The last week or two, I’ve been in a strange loop, ping-ponging between Cocteau Twins, the Cure, and Siouxsie & the Banshees (who I’m a new fan of) with a newfound appreciation for the tangled web that led from post-punk and goth to dream pop and shoegaze.

Cocteau Twins are probably the biggest lynchpin in that chain. From their earliest incarnation as gloomy goths, they embraced the romantic filigree of the genre and brought it out of the shadows.  While much of this transmutation can be traced through their full lengths, the (several!) EPs and singles released between albums offer important context to the steps along the way.

The Pink Opaque, released following the popularity of “Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops” on American college radio, was compiled to give their new American audience a taste of their career up until that point. Decades beyond that purpose, the disc serves as a beautiful chronicle of their metamorphosis.

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Record #950: Cocteau Twins – Head Over Heels (1983)

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.

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Record #948: WHIMZ – PM226 (2022)

I’m going to break the (self-imposed) rules of the blog for the moment and skip way ahead in the alphabet because I’m worried I’ll never get to this if I wait, and I have some feelings about this record.

A couple weeks ago, I was browsing the used section at a local record store and found a bit of cover art that intrigued me. After some quick googling and about thirty seconds on Spotify, I took a gamble on this record—largely driven by the term “sludge pop” that I saw in a review.

And boy, does this disc live up to every possibility that phrase put in my head.

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Record #911: Fotoform – Horizons (2021)

As a music reviewer, my inbox is constantly bombarded with press packs. The unfortunate truth is that most of this goes ignored, buried amid the insurmountable pile of album streams and press releases.

But every once in a while, something will leap from the murky stream of promos and glisten like an iridescent marlin in the sun, catching my attention and holding it. A couple years ago, one of those records was Horizons, the sophomore record of Seattle’s Fotoform, a shining bit of post-punky shoegaze that’s as emotionally stirring as it is urgent.

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Record #906: The Cure – Bloodflowers (2000)

Let me start by explaining that my recent Cure obsession isn’t totally aimless: my podcast cohost and I decided to take an episode to do a deep dive through the legendary Goths’ discography—a daunting task for anyone, but especially for someone who had largely ignored their legacy for most of their life (namely, me).

While I’d already spent a decent amount of time with some of their most celebrated releases, I set off to familiarize myself with everything I was unfamiliar with. I’ve spent the last couple weeks binging their albums, reading Wikipedia and album reviews like I was cramming for college finals, and filling in the gaps in my Cure collection.

One thing that I learned during this time is that usually, the general consensus about each Cure album is mostly trustworthy. If an album is good, everyone says it’s good. If it’s bad, everyone says it’s bad.

But there is one blindingly glaring exception to that rule: 2000s Bloodflowers, a brilliant and understated record that is almost universally maligned. And while I’ll admit that its artwork does it no favors, this is one case where the collective music historian consciousness is very mistaken.

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