The final part of the countdown of alternative album titans salutes the undeniable masterpieces of the form.
Part One: http://roundthelist.blogspot.com/2021/06/my-little-underground-30-essential.html?m=1
Part Two: http://roundthelist.blogspot.com/2021/07/my-little-underground-30-essential.html?m=1
TALKING HEADS
Remain in Light (1980)
If you had to choose one word to describe Talking Heads’ astonishing Remain in Light it would be hyperactive. From the first second to the last, the plethora of ideas, both musical and lyrical, that pours out of every beat is dizzying and dazzling in equal measure. Never a band to stand still stylistically, David Byrne’s New Wave innovators took a giant leap forward by introducing techniques and motifs from Afrobeat into their eccentric melange of post-punk art rock and linguistic Dada. Making electrifying use of dense polyrhythms to generate a relentless energy and skittish unpredictability, Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On), the mesmerising The Great Curve and the evergreen Once in a Lifetime remain both irresistibly funky and, courtesy of Byrne’s abstruse lyrics, delightfully enigmatic. After the frenzied pace of side one, the last three songs descend into chillier territory with the bizarre physiological description of Seen and Not Seen and Listening Wind’s gorgeously structured dread bleeding into closer The Overload, which sounds like nothing so much as Joy Division being filtered through a piece of decaying alien technology. An influence on alternative artists who don’t even realise it, Remain in Light is a stone-cold, unimpeachable classic.
9
THE CURE
Disintegration (1989)
Thirty may seem a little early to undergo a midlife crisis but such is the fast-paced, youth fixated world of pop that Cure frontman Robert Smith felt keenly that the time for him to make his defining artistic statement was ebbing away just before his landmark birthday. Having segued from Punk to Goth to shimmering Power pop within the previous few years, Smith was eager to return to the band’s miserabilist roots for a deep dive into cavernous sonic bleakness and soul-baring lyrical confession. And yet, for all Disintegration’s much vaunted depressive qualities, the overall effect of their eighth studio album is positively transcendent in its rich catharsis and stately, intricate orchestration. Slow-paced and unhurried, the tracks on Disintegration are dominated by lengthy instrumental intros and brooding, atmospheric synthesiser lines which eventually give way to Smith’s mumbled, utterly sincere vocal delivery. Plainsong, Prayers for Rain, the epic build of the title track and the monumental The Same Deep Water As You are cinematic in their emotional sweep whilst more (relatively) upbeat songs like Pictures of You and the almost bouncy Lovesong are rendered even more lovely and delicate by the sonic sturm und drang surrounding them. It wouldn’t be too long before The Cure would return to more chart friendly guitar pop but, with the seminal Disintegration, Smith secured the enduring artistic statement he so desperately craved - and then some.
8
JOY DIVISION
Closer (1980)
Whilst the meaning of Joy Division’s second and final album was always intended to be ‘moving nearer’ it’s hard, in tragic retrospect, to read it in any other way than final, ending, shutting the door on something too heartbreaking to contemplate. Released two months after lead singer Ian Curtis took his own life at the tender age of 23, Closer is inevitably loaded with a dread import that it may not have possessed had Curtis lived. But either way, this is still some of the most sepulchral, funereal music ever to trade under the banner of pop and Curtis’ stark lyrics, filled with the imagery of death, decay and fatalistic despair, would remain as gut-punchingly powerful even if they didn’t seem to stand as an unbearably eloquent extended suicide note. His sonorous, evocative vocals became all the more nuanced than they had been on the band’s debut Unknown Pleasures as well; whether it is the matter of fact confessional of Isolation, the anguished entreaty of Atrocity Exhibition or the desperate urgency of Twenty Four Hours, at no point does Curtis seem less than entirely sincere and authentic. Yet as much as this is undeniably the tortured singer’s record, Closer’s two final tracks are testament to what a mature, tightly woven unit Joy Division had become. Both the reverb-drenched piano of The Eternal and the sharp, stabbing synth lines of Decades are at once achingly beautiful and eerily nightmarish in a way that no other band has achieved to this day. A challenging, uncomfortable listen it may be but Closer is arguably the greatest case yet for alternative music as high art.
7
NIRVANA
Nevermind (1991)
Much like Britpop in the UK, Grunge was the sound of US alt-rock colliding with the mainstream and a lot of it now feels like dated and cynical bandwagon jumping. The experimental spirit of Sonic Youth, punk aesthetic of Pixies and guitar heroics of Dinosaur Jr were watered down into MTV-friendly blasts of self-indulgent hard rock masquerading as profound nihilistic poetry. Most to blame for all this were the unquestioned figureheads of the Seattle scene Nirvana, the trio who blazed the trail overground before existential struggles with fame and commerciality paved the way for Kurt Cobain’s suicide. Yet for all their dubious legacy, Nevermind still stands as a touchstone alternative album - but the reason it endures has less to do with its emotional heft and portentous phrase making than it does with the fact it’s packed to the rafters with killer tunes. The quartet of hit singles blend slacker cool with immense, iconic choruses and radio-savvy riffs whilst every other song on the album revels in irresistible hooks from the frantic judder of Stay Away to the catchy swagger of Lounge Act and slow burn orchestration of Something in the Way. Yes, Cobain smuggled in some articulate and twisted lyrical subject matter - especially in the case of rapist’s lament Polly - but make no mistake, Nevermind’s colossal success is almost entirely down to the fact you can sing along to every song.
6
THE STONE ROSES
The Stone Roses (1989)
Oh to have been a discerning member of the Great British record buying public on 2 May 1989. Not only was that the release date for The Cure’s Disintegration but it also saw the hugely anticipated appearance of one of the greatest debut albums in music history; the shimmering, swaggering, funky marvel that is The Stone Roses. With the demise of The Smiths two years previously and New Order’s immersion in the Balearic beats of Technique, Manchester was seeking around for its next set of mercurial rock gods. Building on the quicksilver brilliance of singles Sally Cinnamon and Elephant Stone, the Roses’ debut combined the jangle of classic C86 indie with elements of the dance music that had infiltrated the mainstream in the wake of Acid House and the Second Summer of Love. Whilst not as loose limbed and club focused as compatriots Happy Mondays, the off-beat rhythms of Reni’s drumming and chiming melodies of John Squire’s breathtaking guitar playing endowed the likes of She Bangs the Drums, Made of Stone and This Is the One with a danceability that bridged psychedelic rock and the nascent rave scene. The whacked-out charisma of frontman Ian Brown, meanwhile, bestowed an irresistible arrogance to the album’s bookending statements of intent, I Wanna Be Adored and eight minute guitar workout I Am the Resurrection which would be mimicked but never equalled by future Britpop stalwarts Oasis. The Stone Roses’ singular magic would prove impossible to replicate and after a prolonged hiatus, their sophomore effort Second Coming would prove all too hubristic a title choice. But for a few glorious months, the Mancunian quartet really did have the music world at their feet and this is Madchester’s sacred text.
5
THE JESUS AND MARY CHAIN
Psychocandy (1985)
In a sense the most incredible thing about The Jesus and Mary Chain’s game-changing debut album is that nobody had thought to do it before. In the same way that Springsteen hit upon merging Dylan’s poetic Americana with the melodramatic fervour of Elvis, so the brothers Reid completed the genius equation that ear-splitting feedback plus sugar sweet girl group melodies equals the coolest sound you’ve ever heard. With future Primal Scream helmer Bobby Gillespie positioned behind a floor tom and a snare drum, Jim and William Reid shredded the bejesus out of their amp, conjuring a squall of shrieking noise and, crucially, allowing the two of them to remain almost motionless, disdainful and enticingly bored behind their electric guitars. Because the fuck-you attitude is an integral part of the mix; savage, nihilistic slices of twitching malice like Never Understand, Taste the Floor and You Trip Me Up clatter past on a wave of bad vibes yet never come unmoored from their impeccably crafted pop infrastructure. And when JAMC really start channelling their inner Ronettes the results are all the more goosebump-inducing. Just Like Honey, Cut Dead, My Little Underground, Some Candy Talking - all these are as much teenage symphonies to God as anything Brian Wilson created but their ferocious outer shell of feedback somehow makes them all the more vulnerable and emotionally brittle. Psychocandy was phenomenally influential on everything from Noise Rock to Shoegaze, redrawing the map of British indie overnight. Characteristically contrary, the Reid’s’ follow up Darklands ditched Gillespie and hewed much more towards classic rock - albeit with a distinctly Goth tinge. It’s still a great album but for the thrill of hearing a true sonic revolution in a little over half an hour, Psychocandy is the one to listen to.
4
PIXIES
Doolittle (1989)
How do you like your Pixies? Drenched in Old Testament fire and brimstone like on Surfer Rosa and their debut mini-album Come On Pilgrim? Fizzing with sci-fi conspiracy theories and wonky surf music a la Bossanova and Trompe le Monde? Or bridging the gap between gruesome gothic phantasmagoria and sweetly harmonic Powerpop as Doolittle does so perfectly? Such is the ardour that the Boston band inspires that each style will have its passionate advocates but for a diverse, accessible - and yet perverse and singular - snapshot of what Pixies do so well, their second full length album is hard to beat. It contains some of their best-loved songs - the perfect jangle pop of Here Comes Your Man, twisted surf of Wave of Mutilation, thunderous eco-classic Monkey Gone to Heaven and Bunuel-baiting juggernaut Debaser - but weirdness abounds throughout. Kim Deal’s off-key harmonising on I Bleed raises B-movie schlock to American Goth gem whilst Mr Grieves finds Black Francis gibbering hysterically over Joey Santiago’s psychobilly guitar. Elsewhere, drummer Dave Lovering goofs his way through La La Love You, Francis shreds his vocal chords with abandon to Crackity Jones and the positively demonic No.13 Baby merges Lynch and Lovecraft to thrillingly unsettling effect. The highlight of highlights is Hey; a gorgeous ballad of transcendence which once more makes stunning use of Francis and Deal’s contrasting vocal styles and reaches depths of genuine emotion and sincerity seldom explored by such a visceral band. Now that it has become de rigeur to claim Pixies as your favourite band it can be hard to remember how much influence they wielded in the late 80s. Their loud-quiet-loud dynamic would become a hallmark of grunge and their esoteric lyrical preoccupations resonate with lo-fi - and in Doolittle they bequeathed a masterpiece for the ages to the alt-rock pantheon.
3
THE SMITHS
The Queen is Dead (1986)
Now that Morrissey’s oft-suspect Far Right flirtations have been depressingly confirmed as myopic racism, many people are viewing The Smiths’ back catalogue with fresh eyes. Separating the singer from the song retrospectively can prove a dispiriting business, especially where said singer was as venerated and adored as Morrissey was, but the good news about the band’s third studio album is that those songs still stand up magnificently, thanks largely to an endlessly creative rhythm section and the gossamer light bob and weave of Johnny Marr’s guitar. At this point still just about speaking to each other, the beauty and intricacy of Marr’s playing leavens the more acerbic Morrissey bon mots, most notably on the propulsive Bigmouth Strikes Again and autumnal Cemetry Gates, whilst the music hall wit of Frankly Mr Shankly and Vicar in a Tutu prove the prickly frontman had a way with words on even the band’s more throwaway tracks. There are a number of keystone moments as well; I Know it’s Over is as devastating a crystallisation of Morrissey’s arch miserabilism as he ever achieved, whilst, conversely, The Boy With the Thorn in His Side is a masterclass in joyous pop craftsmanship. The six minute anti-monarchy title track is Morrissey at his scurrilous best, daring Prince Charles to don Her Maj’s wedding dress for a right wing tabloid photo shoot and the majestic There is a Light That Never Goes Out is as shamelessly soaring a declaration of outsider love as has ever been recorded. Soon the dynamic between the band’s two major players would hurtle south at breakneck pace, but The Queen is Dead is The Smiths’ unimpeachable legacy to a grateful world, and it’s spite and style will never age no matter how unsavoury its frontman’s views become.
2
SONIC YOUTH
Daydream Nation (1988)
Sonic Youth’s reputation for inaccessibility is not totally unwarranted; their extensive back catalogue is littered with Noise Rock experiments, avant garde vignettes and uncompromising Musique Concrete. But 1988’s Daydream Nation didn’t attain its lofty status as the defining statement of US alt-rock by being an impenetrable mess. Over 14 exhilarating tracks, New York’s avatars of restless innovation skilfully interweaved their customary sonic blitzkrieg with catchy pop hooks, anthemic choruses and scalpel sharp melodic sophistication. Taking inspiration from everything from William Gibson’s sci-fi to the career of Joni Mitchell, Daydream Nation is a magpie musical grab bag as well, encompassing Art Rock, Post-Punk and even telephone answerphone messages left by former Minuteman Mike Watt set to lilting piano chords courtesy of Thurston Moore. Sonic Youth were always gifted with three talented singer-songwriters and this is the album where the dynamic between the trio meshed perfectly. Moore rampages through Teen Age Riot, an invigorating call to arms for the indie fraternity and the greatest anthem they ever recorded, whilst Lee Ranaldo’s Eric’s Trip and Rain King charge along on blazing guitar and irresistibly enigmatic lyrics. But it’s the feral, sexy, intimidating and cool-as-fuck contributions of Kim Gordon that really grab the listener by the throat and refuse to let go; she tempts her way through The Sprawl, wails the insistent refrains of Cross the Breeze and teases with uncompromising bullishness all over Kissability. Taken all together, Daydream Nation is as perfect an encapsulation of the late 80s US underground in all its diverse, sprawling and belligerent glory as you’re ever likely to hear and a true masterpiece of alternative music.
1
MY BLOODY VALENTINE
Loveless (1991)
The greatest alternative music album of all time is almost impossible to describe; countless music writers, this one included, simply lack both the technical knowledge to recount exactly what Kevin Shields did to his guitars, effects pedals and amps during Loveless’ recording or to adequately convey the sheer emotional and imaginative journey that the listener goes on whilst experiencing this music. Possibly the most apposite testament that can be paid to Loveless is that, upon hearing it for the first time, Husker Du alumnus and all round US alt-rock god Bob Mould immediately rushed out and formed a new band, recognising for the first time that the limits of sonic innovation he’d long since despaired of being broken had been shattered into a million transcendent pieces. At the time there was a sense that the Irish-English mavericks were conjuring something special after the Glider and Tremolo EPs built on the twisted dream pop of their debut Isn’t Anything. But so breathtakingly fully realised is Loveless, with its perfectly judged ebbs and flows, exhilarating transitions (the moment the apocalyptic sludge rock of I Only Said gives way to the chiming release of Come In Alone is one of the most uplifting in 90s music) and swooping aural motifs, that it awed even the most fervently converted. Two years, nineteen studios and countless producers had resulted in an album that still sounds utterly unique, from the stomach lurching descent of Only Shallow’s opening riff to the point where the sprightly Celtic rhythms drop out at the end of the closing Soon. Shields (for it is primarily Shields) bends form and texture an infinite number of ways across the album’s eleven tracks whilst Bilinda Butcher’s breathy, ethereal vocals act as the perfect counterpoint to the walls of primal feedback and deceptively intricate melody that swirl about her. Ultimately though any attempt to dissect why or how Loveless works so completely is redundant, because this is music to be felt and absorbed rather than intellectualised or understood. It is the sound of what alternative, indie… hell, just music full stop, can achieve when it operates at its absolute peak. Three decades on, Loveless has never been bettered. It is almost certain that it never will be.
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