This might be one of the most divisive albums ever made.
It’s rare that you find someone like yours truly who thinks Slowdive‘s 1995 album Pygmalion is “Okay.” People seem to either love it or hate it. The lovers contend that it’s an ambient dream music masterpiece and the haters think it’s an atmospheric Neil Halstead vanity project that barely qualifies as music.
The first thing that strikes you is that there’s almost no percussion on this album. Drummer Simon Scott had left the band, and was replaced by Ian McCutcheon…who doesn’t have that much to do apart from making background noises. Don’t expect massive drum fills, cymbal crashes, or rock beats on this album. They’re not here. Acid jazz beats are, albeit quiet ones.
The album opens with “Rutti,” which is over ten minutes long and I think is about death, or perhaps embracing the process of aging. I know it’s mesmerizing if you give it a chance. “Crazy for You” starts to let more sunlight through the clouds, and Slowdive fans back in the day were probably thinking, “Here come the roaring guitars!” during its first minute…but they never arrive. It’s just mantra-like guitars and vocals for almost five minutes.
“Miranda” has unintelligible vocals from Rachel Goswell, who co-wrote it with Halstead, and looping synths that border on becoming white noise. The same goes for “Trellisaze,” but the synths are replaced with guitar strums and slow, almost mechanical hand percussion.
The quick instrumental of “Cello” leads to “J’s Heaven” – a song about depression (“Why am I so low? Isn’t life cheerful?”) with Goswell’s vocals sounding like they’re coming from a haunted well. Goswell’s vocals on “Visions of LA” are clearer, and are a beautiful song to a friend she’s trying to calm as he battles with fear.
“Blue Skied an’ Clear” is the most upbeat song on the album (even with the slow, faint drums and airy guitars and vocals), as it’s about finding encouragement in life when a lover tells you, and means it, that everything will be okay. “All of Us” seems to be about aging, and the realization that it comes to all of us at some point.
This isn’t an album you crank on your hi-fi. I wouldn’t listen to it while driving, as it might make you fall asleep some late night behind the wheel. It’s a classic “headphones record” that is best for times when you just need to lie back and look at the sky while everything races past you.
Keep your mind open.
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