CD I: 1)
You Made Me Realise; 2) Slow; 3) Thorn; 4) Cigarette In Your Bed; 5) Drive It
All Over Me; 6) Feed Me With Your Kiss; 7) I Believe; 8) Emptiness Inside; 9) I
Need No Trust; 10) Soon; 11) Glider; 12) Donʼt Ask Me Why; 13) Off Your Face.
CD II: 1) To Here Knows When; 2) Swallow; 3) Honey Power;
4) Moon Song; 5) Instrumental #2; 6) Instrumental #1; 7) Glider (full length);
8) Sugar; 9) Angel; 10) Good For You; 11) How Do You Do It.
General verdict: An essential collection for the bandʼs fans,
an interesting educational piece for those casual admirers who wonder if there
is any life beyond Loveless.
Since MBV only managed to put out two full
length albums in their prime, it is reasonable to pay attention to their
shorter products as well — in a way, one could argue that singles and EPs were
a more natural, or, at least, a less painful, manner of expression for Kevin
Shieldsʼ vision. Since allocating a single review to each EP would be a serious
overkill (especially since the title songs off their EPs often made it onto LPs
anyway), this particular compilation, released in 2012, comes very much in
handy: it collects every EP that the band released from the year of Isnʼt Anything and right to the year of
Loveless, plus a handful of rare and
unreleased tracks to justify the presence of two CDs.
Other than one particular song (to which we
will get a bit later), the discs offer little by way of revelation, but for
those in sore need of an additional MBV fix this is all essential and
auspicious listening. It could be said that the four EPs collected here represent
two different and distinct epochs in the evolution of MBVʼs sound, with each
pair further subdivided into two less different, but still subtly varying «sub-epochs»;
and although I cannot call myself a true fan of the band in their pre-Loveless period, their gradual,
natural, and inspiring evolution is fascinating to behold from its humble
foundations right to the glorious peak.
On the first EP, You Made Me Realise, they are still very much a noise-rock indie
band with lo-fi production values. The title track became famous in the
underground world because of its «holocaust section» (the final distorted chord
that would be put on forever loop and played as an incessant rumble for up to
ten minutes), but the short studio version is just a fast-paced psycho-grunge
rocker with psychedelic falsetto vocal harmonies — nothing particularly great,
and nothing Sonic Youth could not have played in their sleep. The other four
songs tend to be slower, with more pronounced acoustic guitar parts (ʽThornʼ)
and soothing somno-folk female vocals (ʽCigarette In Your Bedʼ), but poor
production values, unfortunately, bring down the melodic potential of even such
prettily crafted tunes as ʽDrive It All Over Meʼ; at this point they are not
yet anywhere near the level of Lovelessʼ
sonic brilliancy, but neither are they capable of bringing out the full beauty
of their guitars and vocals without the psychedelic effects.
Feed
Me With Your Kiss, kicking off
with the title track that would also make it onto Isnʼt Anything, is already a major improvement in terms of
production, though not truly in terms of creativity. The brutal stabbing melody
of ʽFeed Me With Your Kissʼ, come to think of it, is almost like a variation on
ʽYou Made Me Realiseʼ (think an ʽAll Day And All Of The Nightʼ to a ʽYou Really
Got Meʼ), but it sounds cleaner, with a much better drum sound, much thicker
and weightier guitars, and a general impression that it might have been
produced in a cavern rather than a toilet. That said, the other three songs are
nothing to write home about: ʽI Need No Trustʼ, in particular, goes for a
gently lulling effect with its blubberingly arpeggiated waltz tempo, but ends
up sounding like something in between a completely stoned Syd Barrett and a
completely spaced out Jeff Mangum, only messier and hissier than either of
these gentlemen. I really do not think that My Bloody Valentine were cut out
for this kind of «stoner folk».
Skip forward about a year and a half, though,
and you get what is arguably the single most important moment in MBV history: the
Soon EP, introducing the world to
its first taste of the sound of Loveless.
You already know everything there is to know about ʽSoonʼ, the song, but just
as important and even more mind-blowing is ʽGliderʼ, a fully instrumental
demonstration of Kevinʼs new guitar-playing technique — three minutes of what
sounds like a herd of genetically modified elephants engaged in the wildest
orgy on Earth. And if you think three minutes of this is way too much on the
ears, how about ten minutes — on the
full length version of the tune, appended as one of the bonus tracks on the
second CD? In all honesty, I never listened to that one to the very end (fortunately,
neither did any of the prisoners at Guantanamo, because CIA people can never
really come up with anything more creative than good old black metal). But a
couple minutes of that sound, perhaps the purest essence of the MBV sound ever
distilled, is indispensable listening to anyone still not convinced that people
in the Nineties could still make the kind of sonic innovations that could leave
your jaw on the floor.
The best comes last: Tremolo, the last of the four EPʼs, was released with the band
already in full Loveless mode. ʽTo
Here Knows Whenʼ was the lead-in track, later to be included on Loveless itself; it is great, but almost
just as great is ʽSwallowʼ, a «valentinization» of a sampled Turkish belly
dancing track (Eastern psychedelia!). And ʽHoney Powerʼ and ʽMoon Songʼ are two
other strong compositions of Loveless
quality — the former now using that «elephant orgy» sound in support of a
catchy and lovely vocal melody, and the latter returning us to the stoner-folk
territory of ʽI Need No Trustʼ, but now with vastly improved production, as the
steady, distorted waves of electric guitar conjure so much more majesty than
three years before.
The bonus tracks are not ecstatic; but three
previously unreleased songs are solid, if not particularly memorable, indie
rock (I am not sure of the exact time of recording, but they clearly predate
the Loveless era), and ʽInstrumental
#2ʼ is a rare case of the band experimenting with minimalist drumʼnʼbass
rhythms and echoey vocal overdubs, creating a bit of «ambient-dance» music;
apparently, the trend did not catch on, but it is interesting to see them try
out something that does not involve a shitload of acid guitar sound — just as
it is, above and beyond everything else, interesting
to witness the band evolve and reach their peak in slightly over an hourʼs
time. All in all, the collection will hardly convert you if you are not already
a fan, but if you are a fan, not
owning it is like not owning the Beatlesʼ Past
Masters.
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