Lush - Lovelife

 

Lush - Lovelife

By

Jesse E. Mullen

An American distribution deal can make or break a British band. If an album is licensed to a sympathetic American label, it can be a success. There is mutual respect, and the label doesn’t set the band up for failure.

On the flipside, a bad deal can run a talented group into the ground. Or exhaust them to the point where tragedy strikes. Such was the case with Lush. A songwriting partnership between singer/rhythm guitarist Miki Berenyi and lead guitarist Emma Anderson, the British quartet were initially a part of the shoegazing scene of the 80s and 90s.

However, they made a gradual shift towards Britpop, culminating in 1994’s Split and 1996’s Lovelife. Sadly, their American label Reprise didn’t understand how to promote them. A grueling, highly misguided tour opening for The Gin Blossoms in the latter half of 1996 proved too much, and Lush were on the verge of breaking up.

Tragically, they wouldn’t all make it through the year. Drummer Chris Ackland committed suicide on October 17^th, 1996. He was 30.

But the year didn’t start off this bad for Lush. It was actually quite good at first. “Single Girl” and “Ladykillers,” received a strong reception. And the album Lovelife made the top 10 in the UK album charts. Statistics are one thing, but how an album stacks up as a whole is another. So how does it hold up?

The album gets off to a rocking start with “Ladykillers.” Berenyi is in punk pop fashion, describing humorous accounts of egotistical men. She winds up dating one for a summer, before dumping the narcissist for good. It’s a strong start, but Emma Anderson was not one to be upstaged.

Things improve further with the jangly “500 (Shake Baby Shake.” Using a Fiat 500 as a metaphor for a man of her interest, Anderson turns in her sunniest composition of the album. Musically, the song resembles the lighter moments on Wish by The Cure. The bright, arpeggiated guitar tones recall “Friday I’m In Love.”

“Last Night” is something new entirely. Anderson is experimenting with club beats and trippy tremolo guitars. It wouldn’t sound out of place on Radiohead’s The Bends. Lyrically the track is in supernatural territory. Anderson writes of a magical recipe for a serum to keep its user young forever.

The track seems to be a sly commentary on celebrity culture and how humans are obsessed with looking younger than we really are.

Anderson is back in dreamy Lush territory on “Tralala.” The lyrics describe those who only want to kick us when we’re down. Musically, it’s a stripped back ballad. She uses shimmering chord changes and subtle leads to great effect.

For her part, Berenyi contributes a gorgeously poignant vocal. Much like her work on previous Lush ballads such as “When I Die,” her slight rasp adds texture and resonance to Anderson’s words.

Berenyi tried something totally different on “Ciao!” She invited Jarvis Cocker of Pulp to sing the male role in a character-based breakup duet. It’s not entirely successful, as both Berenyi and Cocker’s characters come across as particularly insufferable. But maybe that was the point.

The album ends on another poignant note with the Anderson-penned “Olympia.” The lyrics describe admiring another girl to the point of wanting to be her. In our current world of celebrity culture, it’s possibly even more meaningful now than it was in 1996.

Musically, it’s another sweet ballad with gentle acoustic guitars and mellotron. Anderson and Berenyi sing in harmony before the band enters. A horn and string section joins in the final third, bringing the track to another level. The final line “And now, time to switch off” is even more poignant, knowing what we now know.

Some bands go out with a whimper, not a bang. Not Lush. Although they were unfair victims of a changing musical landscape, and a fickle British music press, they proved they could make a great album under terrible – and soon to be tragic – circumstances.

4AD/1996