An album on which Brian Eno appeared in the nineties that was not U2, James, boring or some combination of the three. Astounding in and of itself, really.
Slowdive's second album was recorded after the fall, ie after Suede became the best new band in Britain and we were all supposed to be worshipping Kurt's stubble and Eddie's hair. Thankfully not everyone followed these particular blandishments, which would have doubtless sucked for us all if that indeed did happen. But as Stone Temple Pilots proceeded to conquer a world full of nothing, there was this, which took forever to get released over here but at least they added a bunch of bonus tracks as compensation, so I can't complain too much in retrospect. Though I'd still like to, since SBK Records were obviously idiots in all other respects.
Regardless, Souvlaki, named after the Jerky Boys sketch, as in "She'll suck your cock like…," so anyone claiming that the band were sexless virgins were probably accusing themselves more than anything else. The absolutely towering walls of effects pedals and bliss which made up the band's first record were a bit toned down here at points, resulting in more calm efforts which perhaps all too inevitably pointed the way towards eventual Mojave 3 gentility, though here with a little more intensity and bite as they went. Thus, the two Eno collaborations "Sing" and "Here She Comes," both handled quite nicely, keyboards adding to the gentle float and drift and, of course, echo. More intriguing would be the closing track "Dagger," a spare acoustic love song -- or is that lovelorn? -- that ends things on a questioning note, strange and not a little disturbing the more you think about some of the loaded lyrics. And then there's "Souvlaki Space Station," a dubbish track that maybe goes on a bit too long, but still has some great reverb heft and lift to recommend it, an insistent rising to the stars, up and out.
But it's the powerhouses that truly dominate here, and if you think that's an inappropriate word to be using for Slowdive, you haven't heard this album. The power is not so much in the volume as the implied force, and that's why "40 Days" starts with a huge wash of reverb and processed feedback that only gets more intense even as Neil Halstead sings his downbeat lyric buried in the mix. Similarly, the starting track "Alison," where he perhaps whines a touch too much, unfortunately, but the music is this huge billow of sound floating out and around you, lifting you up while it drowns you. I've heard more bands than I can count try and get this particular feel in their music, leading me to believe that while My Bloody Valentine is forever the shoegazer touchstone, Slowdive is the more obvious starting point for many a band thus inspired by the general sound.
If there's a track to specifically pick here, though, no question about it -- "When the Sun Hits." An insistent but low-key guitar/bass plucking matches a similar cymbal/percussion beat, Halstead and Rachel Goswell add on the vocals, things float along, then the band collectively let loose, the caustic rage of electric guitars turned into epochal, cavernous, sublime beautiful noise, and driven along damn well by the drums at that. And when the extra guitar kicks in after the chorus, it's all over. It's one of those moments that makes you glad to be alive at the end of the century because no other time in history would have let you hear anything quite like this, it's that good.
I was lucky enough to see the band on their final American tour. When they played that song, life felt complete. To their memory, then.