Slowdive – Souvlaki

 

Slowdive – Souvlaki

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

You’ve known each other since childhood. You’ve been a couple for several years. You also happen to lead one of the most stylistically innovative bands of your generation. And then you end your romantic relationship. How do you go on?

It’s the classic rock and roll story for couples in music groups. From Fleetwood Mac to Linda and Richard Thompson, to Ike and Tina Turner, all of these couples dealt with breakups within their groups. On the independent circuit, Slowdive were no different.

The Thames Valley shoegaze quintet formed in 1989, and quickly developed a sound all their own. Drawing on influences as diverse as The Jesus and Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, Syd Barrett, and the Twin Peaks soundtrack, Slowdive were quickly snatched up by Creation Records.

Their debut EP, the 1990 release Slowdive, became an instant cult hit. One magazine review said that the music was so dreamy, ethereal, and light that it “made the Cocteau Twins sound like Mudhoney.” (This was apparently meant as a compliment, by the way.)

The band – lead guitarist/songwriter Neil Halstead, lead singer/rhythm guitarist Rachel Goswell, second lead guitarist Christian Savill, and Nick Chaplin – would soon add a new member. Simon Scott joined as semi-permanent drummer and the band released more music to even more acclaim.

However, as quickly as the British press can build up a band, they can also tear them down. Sadly, Slowdive would learn this the hard way. The band’s debut album, 1991’s Just For A Day was universally panned by critics, despite not sounding much different than the music they universally praised just a few months earlier.

Meanwhile, other problems began brewing within the group. Halstead and Goswell had been dating for several years at this point. The two met as young children but deepened their bond over music in high school. Halstead was a big Dinosaur Jr fan, while Goswell gravitated towards gothic rock. In fact, it was Goswell’s idea to name the group Slowdive – after a Siouxsie and the Banshees song.

But by 1992, Goswell and Halstead split up. Halstead dealt the only way he knew how – he wrote a ton of songs in isolation. By the time he was finished, he had stockpiled 40 songs, which Slowdive then attempted to record. However, Creation boss Alan McGee was not at all pleased with the material recorded – infamously declaring “they’re all shite!”

Slowdive were forced to re-do most of the album, but they also took a little bit of guidance from an outside source. Brian Eno – a universal favorite within the group – was brought in as something between a mentor and a collaborator for the group.

In one instance, Eno took a clock off of the studio wall and stuck it on the mixing desk, instructing Halstead to play guitar and create textures until Eno told him to stop. Halstead said the experience had a profound effect on both his creativity and his confidence. Momentarily freed from the label pressures to deliver a hit record, Halstead could instead focus on creating something groundbreaking.

The resulting album Souvlaki was released in May of 1993. However, it wouldn’t be released in the US until May 1994. But the question remains how did all of this music sound? And could Slowdive channel the heartbreak at the core of the group into a masterwork?

“Alison” starts the album off in grandiose fashion. Shimmering waves of guitars – both acoustic and electric – and Scott’s frenetic drumming introduce the track before Halstead’s voice enters. The lyrics speak of the titular girl, who is no longer in the life of the narrator. Is she deceased? Or is she a metaphor for Halstead’s breakup with Goswell?

The track is a rousing success, not only because of the mystery surrounding it, but also because of the music. The entire group play in harmony, but the guitar textures of Halstead and Savill deserve special praise. Furthermore, Goswell’s voice adds a haunted melancholy quality to the chorus, particularly when she and Halstead sing “I guess she’s always somewhere” in harmony.

“40 Days” uses a biblical metaphor for Halstead’s loneliness in the wake of the breakup. The lyrics allude to him fasting, but not on food, water or anything sinful. Rather, it is love that he is depriving himself of. The cascading wall-of-guitar-sound on this track is so dense, that it resembles an orchestra.

“When The Sun Hits” is possibly the most anthemic track on the album. The track starts out quietly, before bursting into the chorus – using the ultra-popular “loud/soft/loud” dynamic of 90s alternative rock. The lyrics, however, just may have been a little too clever for mainstream radio.

Halstead uses sunburn as a metaphor for a relationship which dies out – thus crashing and burning. The song, however, seems to take place before the end. Halstead mentions “waiting” for “when the sun hits,” and watching his lover “burn so fast it scares me.” He sees things going wrong but is powerless to stop them.

Goswell’s own turns at the microphone are no less enchanting. “Machine Gun” is as angelic as she’s ever sounded. The song also uses the same simulated orchestra effect of “40 Days” in an equally impressive manner.

The album’s centerpiece, “Souvlaki Space Station” is also the most tinkered with. It was mixed in a “dub style” more commonly employed by electronic musicians. The track features more digital delay on the guitars than I’ve ever heard on any other song.

Goswell wrote the lyrics, and it is still a mystery to Halstead as to what exactly she is singing. Due to the waves of reverb, chorus and delay on her voice – and the fact that Goswell has never mentioned what is sung – we can only speculate. However, it is generally accepted among fans – and Halstead – that Goswell used the track to tell her side of the story.

Chaplin’s bass is also a standout. Usually, the least prominent member of the group, his contributions here are stellar Seefeel-influenced dub. As the track fades into ether, a loud, descending screech features prominently in the mix. Radiohead would use a very similar effect on their 1997 hit “Karma Police,” and it’s generally accepted that they got the idea from Slowdive.

The albums two acoustic numbers – “Here She Comes” and “Dagger” – also point to what lay ahead for both Slowdive and Mojave 3. On “Here She Comes,” Halstead uses just his voice and guitar to evoke the solitude of an early October day. The emotion in his voice betrays the simplicity of the lyrics. When Halstead shifts from “it’s so lonely in this place” to “it’s so cold now/I swear it will be warm,” the effect is truly chilling.

Album closer “Dagger” has a slightly more complicated history. One of Halstead’s most personal songs, Slowdive attempted a version in the initial Souvlaki sessions, complete with a beautiful string synthesizer part, and Scott’s most powerful drumming to date.

However, this was also one of the tracks that McGee had rejected as “shite,” and the song was re-recorded with a double-tracked Halstead alone on acoustic guitar and light piano accompaniment. While this version works better in the context of the album, the electric full band arrangement is stronger overall.

The American release adds four bonus tracks to the tail end of the album. The cover of “Some Velvet Morning” transitions from a dub-influenced, bass-heavy tune in the verses, to a swirling psychedelic waltz in the choruses. Halstead plays Lee Hazelwood in the verses to Goswell’s Nancy Sinatra in the chorus. A wonderful track which eclipses even in the original in creativity.

“Good Day Sunshine” and “Missing You” are EDM-influenced tracks which hint at the even more experimental sounds of Pygmalion. And “Country Rain” might as well be the first Mojave 3 song. Featuring pedal steel guitar, liberal use of reverb, and Goswell’s enchanting voice, it feels like a prequal to “Love Songs On The Radio.” Now that’s a way to close an album!

In the end, Slowdive were able to overcome all obstacles to deliver the classic album Halstead envisioned. In the years since its initial release, Souvlaki has rightly gained its status as a stylistically innovative, unparalleled masterpiece. Not so shite after all.

UK: Creation/1993

US: SBK/1994

 

 

 

James - Laid

 

James - Laid

By

Jesse E. Mullen

 

When we hear about great artists, we often hear stories of instant success. Bands come crashing out of the gates with a hit record – or they follow up a tentative debut with an amazing second album. But what happens when success doesn’t come easily?

James are an English rock band from Manchester. They came up through the ranks in the mid-80s when trends like acid house and Madchester were taking off in their home city. The played at Peter Hook’s club The Hacienda and were hometown favorites. But commercial success elsewhere still illuded them.

Then 1992 came along, and they were asked to open for Neil Young on an acoustic tour. Young had much success at picking up and coming bands to support him on tour. He’d previously tapped Social Distortion and Sonic Youth to open for him.

Playing acoustically opened up a whole new world for James. They wrote a bunch of new songs in a subtler style and got Roxy Music’s Brian Eno to produce them. The resulting album, Laid was released in 1993. But how did it stack up? Could James finally get that hit they were trying for?

The dreamy slide and acoustic guitars of “Out To Get You” introduce the album in soothing fashion. Singer Tim Booth’s voice enters in a warm, sonorous tone. It’s a sound not unlike what Moose were mining at the time – hip, urbane, and sophisticated. Much different than the Britpop of the era. But things would only get better on track two.

“Sometimes” boasts a larger-than-life sound with group vocals reminiscent of gospel music. The rhythm section resembles that of “High” by The Cure. Booth’s lyrics deal with thunderstorm, and he beckons the lightning to strike him. Eno’s production only enhances the transcendence of the track.

His mix is shimmering, bringing the acoustic guitars and the bass to the forefront. This makes the song sound both bright and murky at the same time.

Beginning with reverbed drums and dobro, “One Of The Three” has a bluesy feel resembling “Water Of Love” by Dire Straits. But once Booth enters and the atmospheric keyboards color his vocals in the chorus, it sounds more like a stadium rousing anthem, albeit one at a ballad’s pace.

“P.S.” displays the influence of touring alongside Neil Young. The guitars have a Americana, country rock flavor to them. Slide guitars with heavy delay slowly burn over a mournful three-chord dirge. Booth again uses his lowest voice to start the track, but suddenly raises it in an emotive contrast.

It’s an effective tool and he uses it well. Booth is clearly a gifted vocalist, but it’s not just that he hits every note with skill. He knows when to pull back and when to give a line extra color.

But of course, we can’t end the review without talking about “Laid.” The college radio hit that broke the band in America, “Laid” was also a somewhat risky choice as a single. (Skip the next paragraph if you don’t want to read about why.)

With lyrics like “She only comes when she’s on top” – changed to “sings” in the single version – and its title, it was an obvious love song to the act of lovemaking. When Booth screeches “You think you’re so pretttyyyyyyyy” in a falsetto voice in the chorus, it’s both hilarious and celebratory.

For a band that was getting a reputation as one who took itself too seriously, James proved they could cut loose when writing about primal urges. Musically, it’s a bouncy jangle pop song which also recalls David Bowie and The Kinks. The vocals sound like Bowie in his glam phase while the character sketch of the woman the song is addressed to is pure Ray Davies.

Some bands have instant success. Others toil away for years without a hit. James are the latter kind. As the ultimate underdog band, their album Laid is both a feelgood story and an exercise in soaring perfection.

Mercury1993