Interesting, how this turned out to be the equal but opposite reaction of the Nirvana/Pearl Jam takeover. Rock, yes, but of a different sort, just enough.
See, the thing that maybe isn't realized outside of the US is that while the mighty Wheel were seen as just a failed shoegazer wannabe band by many in the UK, over here "Black Metallic" was an honest to god radio hit and a damn good one at that. Up against the likes of "Even Flow" or "Come As You Are," something with elements of the going overground silence/noise balance but which was far more dreamy, strong without having to seem like it and blessed with Rob Dickinson's weary but not burnt, passionate but not screaming vocal to boot, not to mention being a full seven minutes long and quite proud of it was quite the fine thing indeed. Not to mention the liquid, fiery solo Brian Futter, probably the most criminally ignored guitarist of the decade, dropped right into the middle of it without once seeming like ultrawank.
What was even nicer was how the rest of the album did damn well as well. Because they weren't really 'gazers, and the comparisons that cropped up to, say, Neil Young or the Chameleons made much more intrinsic sense. Not merely feedback plus pop hooks, but a sense of aiming for a certain rich artistry of electric, and if that sounds like something you see in recruiting booklets for Berklee or the GIT, then that's because sometimes words have been wracked into poor cliches by too many others. Not cold 'look at me and what I can do' hash, but fierce, lively and complete as a perfect hip-hop mix, if you will -- when all the cylinders decide to fire just right, and the hair farmer thrashers are all miles and light years off in the distance.
So things are beautiful and sometimes jangly in an effects-pedal way and sometimes it all just explodes nicely, and things are always a little controlled, perhaps, but in a way that suggests care rather than sterility, like they know exactly how they want to end up sounding (and given that the album is produced by Talk Talk veteran Tim Friese-Greene, I suspect that such was very much indeed the case, given the similar care Mark Hollis' crew exercised). "Indigo is Blue" swells and literally fades away, "Ferment" cascades down in rushing choruses, it's all wonderfully lush and grand, the type of thing which it seemed like for a while there rock bands couldn't really do anymore if they ever did, which most didn't because most couldn't.
"Salt" ends it all, flowing backwards, outwards, upwards, who knows where, a way to conclude things as they should be done. More than necessary stuff, really.