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Isn't Anything
$21.99 CD
Loveless
$24.99 CD
EPs 1988-1991
$28.99 CDx2
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MY BLOODY VALENTINE
Isn't Anything - Remastered Special Edition
(Sony Music)
MY BLOODY VALENTINE
Loveless - Remastered Special Edition
(Sony Music)
MY BLOODY VALENTINE
EPs - 1988-1991
(Sony Music)
Where do we begin? Chances are, many of you already have this in your hands, or in your shopping cart, so I won't need to do much in the way of persuasion. My Bloody Valentine remain one of the most canonized, highly revered bands in contemporary rock and pop music with an eye on the periphery, and Loveless' long-promised follow-up has slowly become something of a SMiLE for the post-boomer generation. Many of you know these albums back to front, inside and out, while quite a few of you may be coming to them with fresh ears. Both 1988's Isn't Anything and 1991's Loveless are indeed classics of the era, rock albums filled with innovations whose repercussions are still commonly heard in contemporary independent music and which, for a time, actually penetrated into the mainstream. They are albums which, in the digital era, have been represented by thin-sounding early compact disc technology, and these remasters are indeed wonderful to hear, as they restore the rich dynamism and sonic detail that made this music so revolutionary. As if this weren't enough, a remastered two-CD collection of material from My Bloody Valentine's EPs has also been released and is, in my opinion, the band's best work.
Isn't Anything saw the group refining the dream-pop sound they first helped pioneer via their Ecstasy and Wine record, but with a stronger emphasis on texture beyond layers of fuzz distortion and overdriven strumming. The album is actually perhaps the most stripped-down sounding work the group has ever made, with much of the texture blanketing the taut-wire strums of guitars relegated to the background. This record is at times more in line with the post-punk and C86 movement in terms of songwriting, balancing a pounding rhythmic pummel with Kevin Shields' anxious vocal takes and Bilinda Butcher's sensual, ethereal vocal purrs, along with droning feedback and Debbie Googe's massive, throbbing bass lines. Many folks I know indeed prefer Isn't Anything to Loveless, and its fair share of pop hooks, driving rhythms, and velvety atmospheres make this record a classic of the era, with songs that stand as some of their finest moments, like "Soft As Snow (But Warm Inside)," "Lose My Breath," and "Feed Me with Your Kiss." While in many ways a continuation of the groundwork laid on Ecstasy and Wine, the innovative seeds are planted here which paved the way for the Technicolor claustrophobia of their next and most infamous album.
Loveless is, to many listeners, My Bloody Valentine's high-water mark -- the album that showed the future of guitar rock and which crafted a soundworld so fresh and exciting that people still obsess over its creation and execution with diminishing returns. It is easily one of the catchiest records ever to rely just as heavily on pure texture as it does on melody, perhaps even more so, and regarding the band's album releases, it remains perhaps the most succinct crystallization of their strengths while toning down (or actually drowning out!) their weaknesses. Nearly every guitar is strummed with tremolo bar in hand, creating warped, wobbling chords that still sound "wrong" to this day, yet they take that inch and run a mile with it, exploiting such a simple moment of brilliance into a full-blown sonic environment that feels as though it can be inhabited. The vocals are mixed so low as to add to the texture field, yet the melodies are there, and they are stunning. There seems to be a larger influence from the band's Irish background on much of this material, drawing upon Celtic tunes and a softer, more pastoral English folk frailty. Rhythmically, the album is anchored by loops of drummer Colm O CÃosóig's playing, as he was too ill to perform in full during the sessions, and that use of sampling technology -- not only with the drums, but also the layers of guitars -- adds to the hypnotic dreamlike trance-state that the record instills. While Loveless may not be perfect, it is without question the work of a group with a vision, and they see that vision to startling completion. This is without question an album that everyone should hear at least once before they die, and while its unrelenting canonization can seem a bit hyperbolic, it deserves the praise it has been given.
To me though, the crown jewel in this set of remasters is easily the EP collection. Collecting the You Made Me Realise, Feed Me with Your Kiss, Glider and Tremolo EPs, along with four rare 7" and 12" b-sides and three excellent previously unreleased songs recorded between Isn't Anything and Loveless, this set ably shows the development and growth of the band over the course of the four years between the making of the two albums. It also happens to contain what is, in my opinion, My Bloody Valentine's most focused, catchy, and innovative music. The EP format worked absolute wonders for the band, from the absolutely brutal post-punk pop of You Made Me Realise and Feed Me with Your Kiss, which were released to support Isn't Anything, to Glider and Tremolo's stunning laser-focused displays of the magic being worked on Loveless. These EPs also feature more standouts of the band's discography than any other releases, and often highlighted what were the album's strongest songs, from Loveless' "Soon" and "To Here Knows When" leading off Glider and Tremolo, respectively, to the walloping fuzz bass of Isn't Anything's "Feed Me with Your Kiss" finding a more suitable context on its own EP. The exclusive tracks are far more than simply outtakes that didn't make the cut for the full-lengths; on the contrary, they set up their own environments that nod toward the modus of the albums, but in effect leave a more distinct impact when separated from those contexts. You Made Me Realise may be the band's most powerful statement, both sonically and physically, with its perfect balance of both albums' respective statements, and its title track's infamy as the brutal coda to many of the group's live shows, stretching its "holocaust" noise ending to 20-plus minutes over the years. The rare cuts include two untitled instrumentals from the limited 7" packaged with Isn't Anything's first pressing, the b-side to the French "Only Shallow" 7", and the stunning full-length 11-minute version of "Glider," found only on a 12" which also featured an awesome Andrew Weatherall mix of "Soon" that is conspicuously missing here. The unreleased songs match You Made Me Realise's noisy brutality, and provide a nice full-circle end to this excellent package.
So there it is. I can't recommend these remasters more highly; despite the years of false starts, broken promises, missed opportunities, and cultish devotion, it feels great to hear these again with the oomph, the awe, and the beauty that the original vinyl held. As someone who honestly does NOT hold these albums to the hyperbolic worship of many, but who loves them simply for their beauty, texture, and pop craft, I'm pleased to finally be able to hear them in full glory again after years of being misrepresented on record store shelves. Do I really need to tell you how essential these are? I thought not. [IQ]
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