As broad as I like to think my musical tastes are, there are times that I might actually be pretty predictable.
Take for example my love of dark, guitar heavy, shoegaze inspired indie rock. So infamous am I for my love of this aesthetic that around Christmas, a friend messaged me this album on Spotify saying I would probably like it.
Later that same day, another friend sent me a vinyl copy as a present.
They were both very correct.
After five albums, Scottish dream pop darlings Cocteau Twins found something they never expected their blissful, ambiguous, ethereal pop songs to deliver…
Commercial success.
As much as I try to stay atop notable new releases, it’s inevitable that some will escape my attention for a while. In this case, “a while” is twelve years, as the first listen I gave to Blonde Redhead’s magnificent 23 was just last week.
And what a waste it’s been, because this would have been one of my favorite records from my college years if I discovered it earlier. It’s the perfect mixture of thick My Bloody Valentine-y textures, Radioheady beat work, and grade-A pop hooks.
If history is kind (and accurate) it will remember Alcest as one of the most important metal bands of all time.
After all, the flood of bands fusing the passion of black metal with the textures of shoegaze and the drama of post rock (see: Deafheaven, Oathbreaker, Brutus) are taking pages from their playbook. Their debut EP Le Secret fused these elements together in a way that many bands are still using as a blueprint—and it came out in 2005.
With all of the punk and hardcore kids starting shoegaze bands these days (see: Nothing, Turnover, Pity Sex) and bands implementing more of that lush instrumentalism into their sound (see: Touche Amore, Title Fight), it was only a matter of time until a hardcore band became a full-fledged shoegaze band.
It might seem like a massive jump for a hardcore band to shift to the gauzy, dreamy lushness of shoegaze, but Hundredth does it in a way that still captures their punk fury. Continue reading
Some albums don’t need a follow up. They stand firmly upon their own two proverbial legs, singular icons that echo into eternity, transcending everything else the artist does.
Loveless is one of those albums. It cemented My Bloody Valentine’s legacy even without a follow up.
And for a long time, it finally felt like that follow up would never come. Then once it did, it was met with apprehension. After all, how do you follow up a record as sublime and transformative as Loveless?
Often, when a record is treated with mythology and laudation, the actual music itself fails to stand up to its own legend.
Despite being an icon in every regard, Loveless doesn’t have the same struggle. It is a glistening masterpiece that transcends every level of the myth surrounding it.
A lot of people talk about My Bloody Valentine as if they emerged from the ether in 1991 with the masterpiece Loveless.
Not only is that a drastic oversimplification, but it also ignores Isn’t Anything, which is a wonderful record in its own right.
It’s no secret that I have a very, very weak spot in my heart for music that blends metal’s punishing heaviness with unabashed prettiness. And the last few years (more specifically, ever since Sunbather brought further attention to the type of gorgeous metal that Alcest pioneered) scores of metal bands have been pushing into the dreamy lushness of shoegaze and post rock—and vice versa.
But few bands do it with the sort of shameless simplicity of Holy Fawn. And thus, few bands do it with as much success.
If a mad scientist were to somehow map out my tastes and set about designing my ideal album to lure me into some sort of trap, on paper that siren’s call would sound a bit like “nautically themed sludge metal/shoegaze/post rock/indie rock hybrid.”
But playing through speakers, that idea is even more alluring—not unlike the diver toward the light of the giant angler fish on the cover, I cannot resist this record. I hadn’t even finished my initial listen before purchasing a copy.