Album Month: Ken

Whenever I make a new friend, after some time has passed I try to immerse myself in the music he/she loves, in order to get to know him/her a little bit better.

Back in the fall of 1989 when I was resuming my college education at UMass-Dartmouth (known back then as Southeastern Massachusetts University) after a year off, I was hanging out with five guys who would go on to become life-long friends. Keith & I had similar musical tastes (R.E.M., U2, Tears for Fears, B-52's, Depeche Mode, etc...); Bob was a Led Zeppelin/Jimi Hendrix fanatic; Darren blasted Jane's Addiction, Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Sugarcubes from his room; and Jeff loved Madonna & Tina Turner. I had heard of all of these bands/singers, and enjoyed songs by all of them, but as I got to know John, and listened to the vast collection of cassettes* he had atop his minifridge, a whole new world was opened to my ears. There were all kinds of strange bands with names like Bauhaus and New Order. My Bloody Valentine and Dead Can Dance. Brian Eno and Joy Division. I had just gotten through reading "Hammer of the Gods" and listening to all of Bob's Led Zeppelin tapes in chronological order, and wanting to do something similar with John's catalog, I asked if I could borrow all of his Cocteau Twins cassettes (the band I had chosen randomly from the stacks, mostly because I liked the album artwork, and the songs all had such mysterious names). He readily agreed, and I took them to my off-campus room in New Bedford, to listen to them while I worked on my various art projects, thus knocking over the first domino in a life-long chain of aural love for most things "shoegaze" and the 4AD record label.

I played the cassettes in order (6 albums and 8 eps, but I won't bore you with that info), and it was interesting to see how the band transformed from aggressive to mellow over the course of their then 6-year career, losing Will Heggie very early on, immediately adding Simon Raymonde, and finally, recording a whole album with Harold Budd in '86. I enjoyed each to varying degrees (preferring the later stuff), but their latest album, 1988's "Blue Bell Knoll" was the crowning achievement that sent me down the path to musical nirvana.

Blue Bell Knoll (Remastered) -...

I played his copy of "Blue Bell Knoll" to death, and as soon as I could, I bought my own. My exposure to the band caused me to seek out other bands with similar sounds, and many of them were on the same 4AD label, to my great joy. Over the next few years, by scouring used record stores every time I went up to Boston, I filled my shelves with Pale Saints, Dead Can Dance, Lush, This Mortal Coil, Swallow, Throwing Muses and other non-4AD bands like Chapterhouse, Bleach (who John got to interview for our college radio station), Ride, Curve and Slowdive. But I always came back to the Cocteau Twins, and especially "Blue Bell Knoll".

There was just something about the soaring soundscapes, and Liz Fraser's indecipherable lyrics. Her voice was integral to each song's sound (unlike many bands, where in my opinion, the music is fantastic, but the voice is somehow 'wrong' to me, for example: The Cure), and they wouldn't be the same with another voice. During the school year I had an art project where we had to 'illustrate' a song with color, and I chose "Suckling the Mender", to this day one of my personal Top 50 Songs of All Time. I still have no idea what Liz was singing, but my imagination found the words "beauty and the perfect girl" in the chorus, and that always makes everything all right in my world. The way the music rose and fell with just the right drama, and the 'glide' through the middle transition, both uplifted me, and the song ended with a satisfying resolution. There is no overall message or single phrase hitting one over the head in any of the songs on the album, which I heartily approve of. Looking back to that time, I think it is where my love of voice & music over lyrical content originated. While I do love a good story set to music from time to time, I prefer to overlay my own thoughts, emotions and memories onto the music I listen to.

I was fortunate enough to see the band live twice before they broke up for good in late 1996:

• The first time, on 03/10/94 at the Orpheum Theater in Boston, wasn't as good as I'd hoped. I was there with John & his girlfriend, and this hot Russian girl I used to work with, and I was wrapped up in the excitement of being able to see my favorite band live after a four-year wait. However, Liz was experimenting with new vocal stylings (which, to my horror sounded like shrieking, perhaps due to the psychotherapy she was undergoing at the time), and Robin Guthrie was coming off a drug & alcohol addiction. Add in the super-stressful 'big event' of the two of them splitting up after 11 years (with a 4 year old daughter between them), and the performance was rife with negative energy. So to sum up: it was magical to see them in person (and to hang out with Sasha outside of work), but the music itself was underwhelming, and I went home disappointed.
• The second time was SO much better! I had bought two tickets (one for me and one for John) to their 06/10/96 show at the Avalon Ballroom (now the House of Blues Boston), but on the day of the event, John couldn't make it. So I sold his ticket for ten bucks (face value: $16), and happily entered the venue. When I got inside, it was dark & cozy, and was set up as a round floor with the stage at the far end (flanked by huge speaker stacks), and a bar on either side. I had $35 with me to spend on whatever. T-shirts were an insane thirty dollars each, so I opted for seven five-dollar beers over the course of the show. The minute the band took the stage, I was entranced. The amazing light show, the dark interior of the club, the beer, and most of all, the incredible music had me happily mesmerized for two hours of uninterrupted bliss. Nothing against any of my concert-going friends, but sometimes being alone in a crowd of strangers is the best way to enable your favorite music to carry you away. And this time, when the lights finally came up, I was only slightly disappointed (but only because it was over). I'd been fully-immersed in the music (and bedazzled by the performance) of my favorite band, and left feeling that rare euphoria that only a true love's kiss, or the satisfying ending to an amazing story can surpass...

Subsequent albums have only deepened my appreciation for this amazing band, but if I were ever to be stranded on an island somewhere, "Blue Bell Knoll" is definitely one of my ten 'Desert Island Discs'.** The Cocteau Twins' sound has shaped my musical taste for twenty years now. Female singers will win out over their male counterparts nine times out of ten. Melody is more important than beat. And 'chill' trumps 'aggressive' 99% of the time in my world (though even I need to kick ass once in awhile!). Because of this creative and influential group of musicians, I have a lifelong love for The Sundays, The Cranberries, Lush, Saint Etienne, Pale Saints, and My Bloody Valentine. They caused me to search out similar-sounding latter-day bands like Rose Chronicles, An April March (and the entire Bedazzled Records label - 1999 was a good year!), Moose, Autumn's Grey Solace, and Silver Screen. And to branch out into trance, ambient, and other genres of music, both with voice and instrumental. I humbly suggest you check them out, though I will agree they may be an acquired taste!

* Remember, this was 1989, when cd players cost upwards of $500 for a decent basic model.
** Desert Island Discs: the ten albums you'd want with you if you were ever to be stranded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for the rest of your life with (magically) a music player of some sort.