It was the morning after my birthday party. I was cleaning up the clutter in the apartment I shared, when I first happened upon Massachusetts dream-pop trio Galaxie 500. We'd made space cakes the night before - added food colouring to the mixture turning them a deep blue. They were potent. Streaks of vomit decorated the bathroom floor by the time the last guest crashed out.
A friend had left a bunch of records for me to check out, including the first two Galaxie 500 albums Today (Aurora, 1988) and On Fire (Rough Trade, 1989). I played both on loop for hours. I was an instant fan of their distinctive, dreamy, reverb drenched sound. I was in the right state of mind to discover them - make sense of their blissful, tripped out drone. To me they'll always sound like the morning after. The perfect soundtrack for piecing things back together again - lush soundscapes, like a comfort blanket. Like a hug. I listen and I'm vaguely sure that everything's going to turn out okay. There are layers of depth to their sound but on the surface their music appears unconvoluted, which I adore. Produced by Kramer, their studio albums have a live and spacious feel, like they were recorded in an aircraft hanger. They sound organic.
Dean Wareham's voice is distinctive, you'll either love it or hate it. His guitar playing is more strummy than riffy and peppered with fiery, melodic solo bursts. Naomi Yang's bass guitar anchors the more fleeting, improvised elements of their sound. Her singing voice is high and sweet, pairing well with Wareham's and a neat alternative when taking the lead. Damon Krukowski's drumming is jazz influenced. He has great feel and his pulsing style shifts dynamically within songs preserving their momentum. It's this unique blend of ingredients and off-kilter musical skill set - well honed sense of style and character that sets them apart. No-one manages to sound quite like them. Their music still sounds fresh and appealing today.
Dean Wareham plays The Ruby Lounge, in Manchester's Northern Quarter, Wednesday 4TH December 2013. Support comes from Jason Quever (Papercuts) and my band I SEE ANGELS.
It's been ten years since Elliott Smith checked out. I remember the news breaking, the grey October sky, the drizzle, the stench of bleach rising from the damp shop floor where I worked - a shattering feeling of disappointment. It was the bleak realisation that there would be no more great records or shows of his to look forward to anymore.
But it came as no real surprise. Here was an artist who regularly documented his torment in song, who battled his demons and eventually lost - stabbing himself in the chest twice with a knife. But the music he left behind is still as vital and engaging as ever.
Elliott Smith - Either/Or (Kill Rock Stars/Domino 1997). A stunningly beautiful and intimate, acoustic guitar-led masterpiece. The flawless songwriting and the up-close-and-personal Lo-Fi production make this album a treat from start to finish. The narratives are edgy and captivating, the melodies catchy and anthemic, the performance's so well delivered that you occasionally feel like Elliott's singing these songs directly to you. It's what makes Either/Or so compelling - a seductive combination of close mic'd, whispery, rich sounding, double tracked vocals and harmonies, stellar musicianship and a heavy dose of raw emotion. It's as close to perfect as anything you'll hear.
The Replacements - Let It Be (Twin/Tone, 1984). One of the greatest alternative rock albums you'll ever hear. Its rich diversity and Paul Westerberg's world class songwriting make for a non-stop, raucous and exhilarating ride. It's the sound of an energetic, snotty-nosed Minneapolis punk band growing up fast - harnessing everything they've lived and learnt and turning it into art. There's a distinct chemistry throughout and hooks so instinctive and natural they'll tattoo themselves on you forever - a dose of magical recklessness and chaos about the performances - an overriding sense that these four guys are too busy having fun to notice they've struck gold. It's timeless, endearing - so entertaining you'll never tire of hearing it.
Plush - More You Becomes You (Drag City/Domino, 1998). A vital half-hour collection of sparsely embellished, raw and intimate piano ballads. In stark contrast to the lush Phil Spector-esque orchestrations adorning his debut single Three-Quarters Blind Eyes/Found A Little Baby (1994), in this set, a solo Liam Hayes triumphantly conjures a relaxed jazz-tinged atmosphere evocative of smoky bars - alluring late-night wonderlands you'll never want to leave.
Chavez - Gone Glimmering (Matador, 1995). A raw, energized, half-hour long document of mid-nineties alternative guitar music, brimming with tuneful sonic abrasiveness - spliced with atmospheric field recordings and harnessing enough dynamic power to move your internal organs. If you've failed to discover this band before, do so now - see what you've been missing.
