Supposedly a Dinosaur Jr. (or is that Sonic Youth?) rip-off at this time, but as with the accusations of Mogwai vis-à-vis Slint, the one moves me where the original is there and nice and all. And sometimes that's all the importance in the world. Besides which, the first Bush album ripped off the Swervies worse than the Swervies ever did anyone else, that is when Bush weren't lighting candles to certain Seattle bands.
This said, Adam Franklin sure as hell wished he grew up in America, that much is clear. He's got this weird drawl, not the one that that clown in Gomez uses, say, actually sounds sweet at point, never forced, only a bit of a point where he strains, and generally avoids singing, which is perhaps his wisest move. It's a speaking singing, if you will. What he's talking about most of the time is impossible to determine, mixed down, maybe even mixed out, but there are people sucking back beers on porches and blasting the hell down the highway, so he knows the tropes, at least.
As every rock the fuck out of your head combo should know, which is where the appeal comes in. Due to their Creation label affiliation, the Swervies became shoegazers, except they never were, instead freely and happily admitting their preferred love for types like Black Sabbath and the Stooges, and while they couldn’t sound quite as mighty as that should have indicated in studio (live was a different story -- they consistently burned down the house, and I should know, having seen them about five times in the space of eight months around late 1991 and early 1992), there was this thick comforting wash and kick of sound, effects pedal happy and proud of it while not simply being a blissout. You constantly heard Adam and other guitarist Graham going off on each other, chucking out these great riffs for the hell of it and then moving on, while bassist Adi came up with all these neat little basslines that were busier than might have been expected, and added a lot more than just some thud.
The various singles were perhaps the strongest tracks, but hey, why not? So that's why when "Son of Mustang Ford" has Adam going "Drive!" and this perfect instrumental break rips in, loops back and does it again and then again, tempos suddenly shift, choruses appear then leave, things drone along just enough, shimmer down…and then the song kicks in again. And why "Sandblasted" has those great moments where the guitars riff riff riff riff…pause…then sprawl, and why "Rave Down" is so frigging big, the way the opening notes suddenly shift into a lower approach and bunch and kick so hard, a stately beautiful descent. Besides, Adam also talks about kids on corners wanting to beatbox his brains to bits and a ex-cop shooting flies with his gun because swatting's no fun, and that always made me smile.
But perhaps the strongest track is "Deep Seat," partially because it was so good live, but mostly because damn, it was great. A slow building start, a tradeoff from guitar to guitar to bass and back, a particularly lovely third verse and some flat-out beautiful as much as they were loud and lovely solos that made electric guitars again seem like useful means of expression rather than wastelands of technique and flash. In the early nineties as now, it's a sign of hope, in its own wonderful way.