Heard Here

My Bloody Valentine
Loveless

After nearly three years of recording and a $500,000 studio bill, the British quartet My Bloody Valentine released their second LP, Loveless (Creation/Sire), to universal critical acclaim in 1991. The group’s first full-length disc with Loveless’ lineup, 1988’s Isn’t Anything (Creation/Sire), had already spawned a new sub-genre of British pop rock, the “shoegazers,” as well as producing countless imitators, including Ride and Lush. But their latest, and what would prove their final recording, would vault the band’s status to near mythic proportions by virtue of the album’s mystery, eroticism and utter beauty.
Composed of the infamous studio perfectionist, guitarist and vocalist Kevin Shields, the vocalist and guitarist Bilinda Butcher, the drummer and sampler Colm O’Ciosoig, and bassist Debbie Googe, My Bloody Valentine can be credited for developing, and later perfecting with Loveless, a style of British rock that spawned the shoegazers (called so because of bands’ habits of motionless and understated performances) of the late 1980s and early 90s. Taking cues from the Velvet Underground, Sonic Youth and England’s craze for synth rhythms, My Bloody Valentine created a sound all their own by combining white-noise aesthetics with dance hall bounce. The result, as heard first on Isn’t Anything, is something between Enya and the Jesus and Mary Chain. Driving dance rhythms are soaked in immense walls of shimmering guitar noise while Butcher’s eerie soprano glides somewhere above the festivities. The point, though, is not some misguided experiment in pop dissonance, but a subtle musical and lyrical eroticism punctuated by the dreamy beauty found in the overripe guitars.
On the hugely influencial Loveless, Shields and company let their new brand of psychedelia loose on the adoring fans who had waited patiently for a follow-up to their debut. And tracks like “only shallow” and “come in alone” proved that My Bloody Valentine’s new work was well worth the wait. Though Butcher’s and Shields’ words often get lost in the mix and their music may seem repetitive and lacking in focus, repeated listens will reveal whole coral reefs full of color and sound. Instead of one single melody, or one specific tale of lost love, the aesthetic focus of My Bloody Valentine’s music is on what is implied. Their music alludes to countless loves with its thick layers of feedback and vocal harmonies. Though one can just barely catch Butcher’s lines about the “pretty boys with the sunshine faces” on “loomer,” the guitars swaying from dissonance to consonance imply everything from a sunset to a hangover, but without ever losing that sense of soft, sultry desire.
This undercurrent flows beneath all the songs on the record. On everything from the acoustic dirge of “sometimes” to the discotheque freakout of “soon,” Butcher lets loose a powerful aphrodisiac with her angel purr voice. My Bloody Valentine’s guitars, though, are a powerful drug of their own. And although their melodies, played with then unheard of levels of distortion and feedback, are fleeting and sometimes hidden, they are beautiful nonetheless.
Though you probably wouldn’t hear My Bloody Valentine on your local rock radio station, let alone find them on MTV or VH1, they have influenced, among others, current indy icons Mogwai and the music on Trent Reznor’s latest disc, The Fragile. Their music isn’t filled with catchy hooks or culture-savy vocals. Instead, their music and its legacy remains rarefied and mysterious. After the success of Loveless, the band entered the studio in 1993, never to return. Though they can’t boast a large recording career, their sound can be found in the shoegazer bands they gave birth to and the one brilliant record they left behind. Loveless is truly a must-have.

–John MacDonald

Out of the Closet is a new feature that seeks to unearth older albums that deserve another look. Once or twice every month we’ll look at a disc or tape (...or eight track for all you vintage enthusiasts) you might not find in everybody’s collection but should be there anyway. Your thoughtful submissions are requested. If we get an Out of the Closet every week, we’ll print one every week. I know there a ton of you out there just dying to let every one know about that obscure Smiths album that’s the pride and joy of your collection. What better way to show off your rarefied pop knowledge than on the pages of The Oberlin Review! Let us know what you think.