THE THIRTY FINEST TRACKS OF 1991!!!
Well, here I am again. Waxing lyrical about my favourite music, tunes, artists and scenes from days gone by. There's masses of magnificent modern music doing the rounds at the moment and I will focus on everything that is bright, shiny and new in a couple of months time when I regale you all with my Best Of The Year countdown. For now though, I feel the urge to step back in time once more as all the recent lockdowns have given me oodles of hours to scan my dusty old CD shelves and rediscover classic albums of yore. I've also recently suffered a major family bereavement as well as taking a trip back down to the wilds of Surrey and my old stomping grounds for the first time in many, many years. All this activity has pumped up the old nostalgia nads and there has been a veritable splurge of Proustian rushes on an almost daily basis. I have since come to the conclusion that the year of 1991 can easily lay claim to being the greatest year for music in my lifetime. I recently posted a full and thorough tribute to my formative musical years between 1989 and 1992 which touched on all the most marvellous musical moments within those 48 months. I also listed my favourite albums from each particular year and 1991 definitely came out on top when it came to life-enriching records. To that end, I am going to fill this post with my choice of the best thirty songs from that year. It was an extremely difficult list to put together - especially as I gave myself a strict rule of only one track from each artist which meant that my initial plan of every single song from my favourite album of all time went straight out of the window....
So, what follows is my choice of the best songs released in the UK and the US between January 1st and December 31st 1991. I could have stretched it to 40 - even 50 - but I felt there was a pleasing symmetry about the fact that all of these songs are now thirty years old. Which obviously makes me feel extremely ancient indeed.....
(Apologies to the likes of 'Jerry Was A Race Car Driver' by Primus; 'Not Too Soon' by Throwing Muses; 'Rosechild' from Stress; Eg & Alice with 'Indian'; Moby's 'Go'; 'Nothing Can Stop Us Now' by Saint Etienne; 'Dalliance' by The Wedding Present; 'Coma' from Guns 'N' Roses and the epic 'Good Morning Captain' by Slint.)
(And, whilst we're here, please click on this link to listen to all of these tremendous tunes as you're reading. Joyous! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4EsRkYy0jQnYX7wED8xfSj )
30: YOUNG DISCIPLES: APPARENTLY NUTHIN'
London based trio Young Disciples were made up of the two multi-instrumentalists Marco Nelson and Femi Williams and American vocalist Carleen Anderson who was the god-daughter of legendary soul superstar James Brown. Signing to the achingly hip acid-jazz focused Talking Loud record label - also home to the likes of Galliano and Incognito - the band released the tremendously funk-filled 'Road To Freedom' album in the late summer of 91. Hugely critically acclaimed, the album's main single was crisp, tight and impossible not to dance to. It also showed off Anderson's remarkable vocals to stunning effect. The song reached Number 13 in the UK chart before diminishing returns set in over the next few months. Anderson left the following year and embarked on a fitfully successful solo career. Nelson and Williams disbanded the project soon afterwards. Play 'Apparently Nuthin' these days though and I guarantee you'll be sliding around the kitchen floor in your slippers.
"A popularity of invasion, handed down through centuries. A force of arms called gentle persuasion, what have we learned from history?"
29: RAIN TREE CROW: BLACKWATER
Rain Tree Crow was the surprise reunion of early 80s synth heroes Japan who had fallen apart in acrimonious fashion in 1985. Lead vocalist and principal songwriter David Sylvian had been releasing solo records ever since and finding himself at a creative dead-end in 1990 took the plunge and invited his old crew back into the studio. Six months later, the original quartet - Sylvian, Mick Karn, Richard Barbieri and Steve Jansen - re-entered the fray with this gorgeous slice of drifting, ethereal balladry. Not a million miles away from their early work as Japan, it heralded the possibility of a new chapter in their story. Typically though, by the time of the parent album's release in April, the foursome had called it a day yet again and Sylvian continued on his own path.
"Blackwater, take me with you, to the place that I have spoken. Come and lead me, through the darkness, to the light that I long to see again."
28: SEAL: COME SEE WHAT LOVE HAS DONE
By the winter of 1991, London singer Seal Henry Samuel was one of the UK's biggest music stars. After bursting onto the scene 18 months earlier as the featured vocalist on Adamski's huge rave anthem 'Killer', Seal - as he preferred to be known - had signed with legendary producer Trevor Horn's ZTT label and released his self-titled debut album in the spring to huge success - both critically and commercially. A host of hit singles followed - including the still monumental 'Crazy' - and he swept the board at the Brit Awards in 1992 winning three gongs. However, as fantastic as his first wave of songs were - I could easily have picked the stupendous funk-rock crash of 'Wild' from the album - his finest moment both then and now was this lovely acoustic-tinged soulful blues number hidden away on November's 'Killer....On The Loose' EP which saw him re-record 'Killer' in his own style as well as covering the likes of 'Hey Joe'. But it's this spine-tingling moment of glory that I still go back to all these years later. Seal has been good since - that velvet-drenched voice of his will always make anything sound special - but he's never bettered this.
"As we ride, on the strings of life and Technicolour. Look over there, in the sky, you and I - forget about the hate that made those wars."
27: BLUR: SING
Crashing onto the scene almost fully-formed in the spring of 91, Colchester's fresh-faced indie chancers Blur hit big immediately with the fun-filled baggy beats of 'There's No Other Way' which reached the Top Ten, before struggling to repeat the trick with subsequent single releases. They almost burnt themselves out from touring in 1992 before re-evaluating their career and reinventing themselves as a more traditional 60s inspired beat combo in 1993. This musical volte-face launched them into the burgeoning BritPop movement later in the 90s and they became one of the biggest bands in the UK. Before all of that though, was their debut album 'Leisure' which - on the back of their first big chart hit - was released with no little fanfare in May of 91. In truth, like a lot of debuts, it was a bit patchy but there were some serious pearls to be found. One such corker was this melancholic, piano-led epic that built slowly over it's six minute runtime, repeating the chorus like a mantra. Recorded by the group as a demo, the decision was made to include it on the album untouched as it was deemed to be so strong. It was later used to prominent effect on the soundtrack to 1996's huge movie 'Trainspotting'. Unsurprisingly, considering what a great track it is, it's one of the few early songs that the band continued to play live in their later years.
"Can't feel, 'cause I'm numb. Can't feel, 'cause I'm numb. So what's the worth in all of this, what's the worth in all of this?"
26: NED'S ATOMIC DUSTBIN: THROWING THINGS
By early 1991, the UK indie scene had become fragmented into a whole host of styles, genres and tribes. The baggy scene from a few years earlier was still pretty prevalent and there was a whole slew of shoegaze combos making waves in the weekly music press. Throw in a bunch of Smiths-indebted jangle bands and some discordant art-rock and the outlook was reasonably rosy. The US grunge movement of late 91 would take a broom to it all but for the bulk of the year, things looked good. One scene in particular was astonishingly successful and it came from, of all places, the West Midlands. Both The Wonder Stuff and Pop Will Eat Itself - straight outta Stourbridge - had frequented the charts and embarked on successful tours in the proceeding couple of years and by April it was time for Ned's Atomic Dustbin to make their mark. Named after a Goon Show sketch, this thunderously exciting quintet of raggle-taggle grebo head-thrashers had pricked up the ears of the cognoscenti in late 1990 with a brace of EPs before hurtling into the Top 20 with the boisterous proto-grunge of 'Happy'. Debut album 'God Fodder' followed and it is still one of my favourite albums from that period. Short, sharp and showered with stupendous songs, I could have picked at least five tracks for this list - 'Selfish' and 'Grey Cell Green' came incredibly close. As it is though, 'Throwing Things' makes the cut on account of it's gloriously arm-flailing tune, the wondrously pogo-inducing chorus and the extraordinarily cutting lyrics from lead vocalist Jonn Penney that depict the death throes of a long-term relationship in wince-inducing detail. Outstanding, quite frankly. The band continued on for a few years with moderate success but, as I nodded to earlier, eventually got swept away by the US alt-rock juggernaut of the early 90s. They have reformed sporadically over the years though and are still a going concern on the live front.
"Now you're tying up my heartstrings, I've got no halo, got no wings. We've got verbal constipation, let's start throwing things."
25: CROWDED HOUSE: FOUR SEASONS IN ONE DAY
After a fair few years of knocking on the door of recognition, New Zealand native Neil Finn and his Crowded House counterparts - bassist Nick Seymour and drummer Paul Hester - finally made the world sit up and take notice in late 91 with the success of their third album 'Woodface'. Although they had scored a big worldwide hit in 1987 with 'Don't Dream It's Over', subsequent releases had fallen short. A shame, as Finn was obviously a hugely talented songwriter. After drafting in his older brother - and former Split Enz comrade Tim - into the fray, Finn threw everything he could at 'Woodface', having been told by his record company that the band would be dropped if they didn't come up with another huge smash. Astonishingly, the song that the band are most well known for - the peerless 'Weather With You' - was only earmarked as the fourth single to be released. Before that, three other tracks were released to moderate success in the last few months of 91, but Finn and the band took on a massive amount of promotional and live duties to push the album before the aforementioned 'Weather With You' sent it stratospheric in the summer of 92. The band went on to win Brits and Grammy's by the bucket-load before releasing their magnum opus 'Together Alone' in 1993. Hidden away in this story though, is the fifth single - and follow-up to 'Weather'.. - that slipped out almost unnoticed in July of 92. Written by Finn in response to the always ever-changing emotional rollercoaster of a relationship he had with his brother, the song took on greater significance after Tim left the band in a huff in the middle of their UK tour in the winter of 91. Soft and dreamy but with a hard edge - typical Neil Finn fare to be honest - the song was always the true standout for me when I bought 'Woodface' and I was flabbergasted that it took so long to be released as a single. Typically, even though it's one of Finn's finest songs, it barely scraped the Top 30. Some years later though, Neil and Tim were touring together as The Finn Brothers - having buried some hatchets - and performed the song nightly as a tribute to Hester who had recently taken his own life.
"Smiling as the shit comes down, you can tell a man from what he has to say. Everything gets turned around, and I will risk my neck again - again."
24: THE WONDER STUFF: MISSION DRIVE
As I alluded to above, The Wonder Stuff had enjoyed a dizzy few years of success in the late 80s before decamping to the studio to record their third album. Released in March of 91, the first fruits of this labour was the huge Top 5 single 'Size Of A Cow' which turned the previously Second Division indie whippersnappers into top tier title contenders. Led by the never knowingly understated Miles Hunt, The Stuffies - as their ever-increasing fanbase loved to call them - very quickly became masters of three-minute pop single wonderment and went on to enjoy a hugely productive 18 months that culminated in the band headlining massive outdoor gigs in the summer of 92 - including the famed Reading Festival. The aforementioned third album - the really rather fantastic 'Never Loved Elvis' - gave them their one and only number one placing in the UK album chart in May of 91 and opened with this gorgeously bittersweet acoustic anthem that climaxes with a full-blown fiddle-infused folk frenzy. Written by Hunt after his acrimonious fallout with his former best friend - and Pop Will Eat Itself singer - Clint Mansell, the song had an all-encompassing 'me-against-the-world' vibe and was made for opening huge live sets by the band which, obviously, it ended up doing. Sadly for Hunt and the rest of The Stuffies, this was as good as it got for them as 1993's follow-up album 'Construction For The Modern Idiot' - although a fine record - couldn't repeat the success of 'Elvis' and the band split in 94. Hunt has reconvened with different iterations of the band ever since but 91 was their high watermark creatively, and 'Mission Drive' their finest four minutes.
"My mission drive, is to open up my eyes - cut the wicked lies and all the shite you say."
23: SWERVEDRIVER: RAVE DOWN
Somewhat erroneously lumped in with the rest of the shoegaze bands of the early 90s, Oxford's Swervedriver were - if anything - far more psych-rock influenced and in thrall to the US college rock scene that begat the likes of Hüsker Dü, Pixies and Dinosaur Jr. Drenched in feedback-laden effects pedals and thrashing guitars, the band - led by Adam Franklin and Jimmy Hartridge - had been drifting around the scene for a while, gigging furiously and self-releasing singles. Signed by Alan McGee to his up and coming Creation Records imprint, their debut album - the mind-melding sonic attack of 'Raise' - was released in the autumn to healthy acclaim from the music press. Featuring the likes of fan favourites 'Son Of Mustang Ford' and 'Sandblasted' - both of which I could easily have picked for this list - the album's centrepiece was this storming ode to small-town life and youthful ennui that thundered along in some style, crashing around your cranium during the chorus and pulverising your pineal gland throughout. The song was a marvel then and still is now. Any momentum that the success of the album - and this song in particular - gave them though was quickly lost in 1992 when the other two members left the band under a cloud, leaving Franklin and Hartridge to start over. A stop-gap single - the monumental 'Never Lose That Feeling' - appeared the following summer to keep the fans happy before they re-appeared in 93 with the even better 'Mezcal Head' opus. The band are still currently active with a brace of excellent albums in recent years and the highlight of any Swervedriver gig these days is always this careering cyclonic maelstrom of stomach shaking noise.
"There's kids on the corner wanna beat-box my brain to bits. You can't cut creed clean, things ain't black or white like they seem."
22: CHAPTERHOUSE: PEARL
Springing into life in the late eighties, Berkshire's Chapterhouse soon found themselves part of the burgeoning shoegaze scene that prided itself on swathes of effects-pedal heavy guitar sounds, swirling percussion and a hefty preponderance of ethereal vocal stylings. Bands like Ride, My Bloody Valentine and Lush became far more successful but for a brief five minutes or so there in early 91, Chapterhouse looked like they might do some serious business commercially. Led by co-singer/songwriters Andrew Sherriff and Stephen Patman, the band hit the ground running with this tremendous opening single that married their three-pronged guitar attack with the still popular 'baggy' influenced drum beats. An impossibly catchy chorus sealed the deal before fellow Home Counties shoegaze alumni Rachel Goswell - vocalist with Slowdive who were having a pretty decent 1991 themselves - turned up at the climax with some dulcet backing vocals. Sadly, 'Pearl' was only a minor hit and even though a pretty solid debut album in 'Whirlpool' followed, by year's end Chapterhouse were nothing more than a footnote. A more US alt-rock inflected second album appeared in 1993 but the jig was up and the band split.
Massachusetts-based alt-rock linchpin J Mascis began the 90s at something of a loose end. His band Dinosaur - the Jr was added later after some legal trouble - had started out in the mid-80s as a tremendously thrilling fuzz-encrusted power trio comprising Mascis on vocals and guitars, Lou Barlow on bass and the succinctly monikered Murph on drums. Pummelling their way through a trio of albums and the monstrously catchy indie disco classic single 'Freak Scene' through the latter half of the decade, saw the group courted by a host of major labels as 1990 dawned. Signing to Warner Brothers and knuckling down to record their first material for their new paymasters seemed like the perfect next stage for Mascis and his cohorts. Unfortunately though, creative differences were rife between the trio and before the album could be released, Mascis had fired Barlow - who went on to form Sebadoh and Folk Implosion - and relegated Murph to appearing on only a handful of tracks. The resulting record - the brilliant 'Green Mind' - eventually saw the light of day in the spring of 91 and is ostensibly a J Mascis solo project in all but name. Full to bursting with fantastic songs - the likes of 'The Wagon' and 'Blowing It' barrel along magnificently, all crunchy riffs and wailing solos - it's the quieter moments toward the back end of the album that show Mascis's songwriting abilities in a different light. In particular, the laid-back, mellotron-infused bluesy drawl of 'Thumb' which connected with me back in 91 in a major way. One of the few tracks on the album that feature Murph on drums, the song is a woozy and winding wonder depicting the lethargic stasis of a co-dependent relationship on it's last legs, and that ends with Mascis embracing his love for Neil Young in monumental style, wigging out with his guitar as if his life depended on it. Utterly sublime. Mascis and Murph reconvened in 93 - along with new bassist Mike Johnson - for the hugely successful 'Where You Been?' album before drifting apart again a few years later. The original trio reunited in 2006 and have since released five excellent albums, including this years lovely 'Sweep It Into Space'.
Liverpool quartet The Real People were a bunch of weed-loving, lank-haired roustabouts who came out of nowhere in the spring of 91 with their still supremely confident debut album which married the joyful jangle of fellow Scousers The La's - who had released their own wondrous debut only 6 months previously - with the shuffling, baggy beats of the likes of The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays. Led by the Griffiths brothers - Tony on bass and vocals and Chris on guitar and vocals - the band's sound also incorporated the group's love of beat groups from the 60s. Unsurprisingly, considering their birthplace, there was a strong Beatles influence too. The album's 40 minute run-time didn't have an ounce of waste on it - oozing with tunes from top to bottom - and during my springtime tenure working at my local record shop, my day wasn't complete unless I'd played it at least once. Running the gamut from sparky rockers like 'Everyday's The Same' and 'I Can't Wait' to more reflective, acoustic numbers such as 'For You' and 'Words', the whole thing hangs together quite gloriously and is underpinned by perfectly judged double harmony vocals from the Griffiths siblings and janglesome guitar frills to die for. Lead single 'Window Pane' thrills my core to this day, opening the album in boisterously magnificent style as it lurches from it's opening riff to it's mighty backbeat to a guitar solo that twists and turns all over the place in it's middle section without ever falling apart. I absolutely loved it then and still do now. A second album two years later - despite a couple of singles making the Top 40 - was never officially released and by the time the band were able to get new material out there, the world had moved on. As a postscript, when Oasis burst onto the scene in 1994, I was adamant that Noel Gallagher must have been a fan, as 'Definitely Maybe' had such a similar sound. Turns out that whilst Noel was working as a roadie for the Inspiral Carpets in the early 90s, he'd met The Real People and become good pals - even borrowing their studio to record with the nascent Oasis. Chris Griffiths then went on to co-write the Oasis song 'Rockin' Chair' with Noel as well as contributing backing vocals to 'Supersonic'. Alas, the fortunes of each group deviated wildly over the next decade or so and The Real People became a footnote. They're still going though, with the odd album here and there and live dates lined up for 2022. The Griffiths brothers have kept themselves afloat financially too by writing songs for the likes of Atomic Kitten, Ocean Colour Scene and even Cher. In an ideal world though, 'Window Pane' should have been the song to catapult them to worldwide glory.
As anyone with even the slightest interest in modern rock music will know, 1991 was the year of grunge. A full-blown annus mirabilis for modern-day alternative rock, by the end of the year the soft-rock hair metal bands that had been filling the charts over the previous few years were starting to look increasingly dated and in need of some serious competition. When you consider that the most popular rock songs from the early part of 91 were the truly awful 'Wind Of Change' by the leather-clad Scorpions and the possibly even worse 'More Than Words' by Extreme - a more insipid 'rock' band would be hard to find - then you can see how much things needed to change. Bands like Jane's Addiction, Living Color, Faith No More and the previously mentioned Red Hot Chili Peppers had been making a fair bit of noise for a few years but it was Nirvana who blew the doors off in September with the release of 'Nevermind'. Fellow Seattle bands such as Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains and Screaming Trees - as well as the likes of Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots from other parts of the US - all went on to have a hugely productive few years before burn-out, fractious relationships and a steady diet of hard drugs brought things to a halt. Another band from Seattle - the heroically heavy Soundgarden - had been loosening the screws of many a head for a good few years before signing with a major label on the back of their monstrous 'Louder Than Love' album. Fronted by the ridiculously good-looking Chris Cornell - blessed with the hair of a Native American chieftan and a voice from the heavens - and with a sound that married the Sturm und Drang of Black Sabbath with psychedelia, classic Americana and free jazz, Soundgarden were a real breath of fresh air for rock fans as the Nineties dawned. The classic four-piece lineup - Cornell, guitarist Kim Thayil, Matt Cameron on drums and bassist Ben Shepherd - released their third full-length opus 'BadMotorFinger' in late 91 and set down a marker that few bands have been able to match. Containing three outrageously good singles in the searing 'Jesus Christ Pose'; the blues-infused thump of 'Outshined' and the riff-tastic 'Rusty Cage', choosing just one track from the album for this list was a tough call. I've gone for the swarthy and spine-shaking shudder of 'Slaves And Bulldozers' though, which sees Cornell and the band rail against the vagaries of the music industry and, in particular, slate those that tried to pull a fast one over the band in their early years. With Thayil drop-tuning his guitar throughout - and laying down his favourite ever solo - Cornell's vocals are arguably the best he ever produced. An absolute beast of a tune. Soundgarden went on to achieve huge success a few years later with the mega-selling 'Superunknown' album before splitting in 97. They reunited 15 years later but, tragically, Cornell died in 2017 at the age of 52 in mysterious circumstances. He is, of course, hugely missed.
Another previously small-time alt-rock band that were given a serious push from their record company in the wake of Nirvana's success were Chicago quartet Smashing Pumpkins who, at the back end of 91, released their debut album 'Gish' to some pretty decent notices. It took a few more months of solid gigging and regular single releases before commercial success came their way but when it did, the band never looked back. Helium voiced frontman Billy Corgan was their driving force, with guitarist James Iha, drum titan Jimmy Chamberlin and whey-faced bass chanteuse D'arcy Wretzky falling into line. Later albums saw the group splinter on a regular basis - mainly due to Corgan's extreme demands in the studio - but the results, especially 93's epic 'Siamese Dream', were always worth the drama. Back in 91 however, the group were as harmonious as they ever were and the songs on 'Gish' were an absolute joy to listen to. Ranging from ear-splitting wig-outs like 'Siva' and 'I Am One' to more reflective acoustica such as 'Crush' and the D'arcy sung 'Daydream', the highlight was this superb melding of the two which saw Corgan and Iha swapping riffs and fills as the song ebbed and flowed slowly over six increasingly brilliant minutes of crackly dream-pop before exploding into a speaker shaking climax of feedback and crashing drums. Astounding. Production fans took note too, as 'Gish' was produced by Butch Vig who followed his work on this by hooking up with Nirvana to twiddle the knobs on 'Nevermind'. The Pumpkins got bigger and bigger as the 90s progressed, selling 10 million copies of their mammoth double album from 1995, 'Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness'. It couldn't last of course, and diminishing returns set in before they eventually split. Like most bands of their era though, the original lineup - minus D'arcy - have been back at it in recent years with two relatively decent albums since 2017.
Glasgow's lank and languid Primal Scream had been struggling to gain a foothold on the indie-rock ladder of success throughout the late 80s, veering from Paisley-clad jangle rockers to leather trousered Velvet Underground wannabes with little to show for it. They'd certainly had their moments - the glorious rush of 'Imperial' from the 'Sonic Flower Groove' album is a thing of utter wonder - but it wasn't until frontman Bobby Gillespie, along with his companions Andrew Innes and Robert 'Throb' Young, discovered ecstasy, Acid House and the mighty DJ and producer Andrew Weatherall that fortunes began to shift for them. Remixing the band's laid-back Stonesy shuffle 'I'm Losing More Than I'll Ever Have' into the magisterial 'Loaded' was the first sign that Weatherall was an inspired choice by the band to sprinkle some magic on to their material. A huge hit in the summer of 1990, 'Loaded' was followed by the gospel-tinged delight that was 'Come Together'. Featuring the rich, soulful vocals of Mancunian singing legend Denise Johnson throughout the track, there were a number of different single versions released before the final - and greatest - version which appeared slap bang in the middle of the track-listing of the band's seminal third album 'Screamadelica' which was released in late September of 91. Fusing psychedelia, dub, techno, classic dance textures and balls to the wall glam rock into one huge stew of glory, the album was an instant success and turned Primal Scream into one of the UK's most well-loved combos. They're still out there these days, recording stellar records and touring solidly - although sadly without both Throb and Denise Johnson who have moved onto different realms - but, for my money, they've yet to surpass the ten minutes of joy that is the album version of 'Come Together', even if Gillespie's vocals aren't even featured!
Hailing from the wilds of Norfolk, psych-rock tinged shoegaze crew Catherine Wheel piqued my interest toward the back end of 1991 with a brace of self-released EPs that scratched my feedback-drenched atmospheric indie itch with some style. Eventually signing to Fontana records in early 92, the band's debut album 'Ferment' gained favourable reviews and led to a healthy year of gigging before the band changed direction in 93 and became more grunge-influenced in an attempt to sell records in America. This worked for a bit with their second album 'Chrome' doing well on the US college circuit. Eventually the band's constant shift of musical styles - they veered into proggier territory for album number three - saw most of their early fans drift away and the group called it a day in 1999. Before all of that though was the extraordinary 'Black Metallic'. Released as a stand-alone single in October of 91 - before being re-recorded for 'Ferment' - this absolute epic of a track saw lead vocalist Rob Dickinson (cousin of Iron Maiden's Bruce) delve into his psyche as he describes the darkness bubbling under a supposedly happy relationship. With the rest of the band building up a head of steam around him with walls of guitars and a drifting drum beat, the song takes it's time to thrill with a seven minute runtime that enables it to have a little breather about halfway through as the entire song breaks down before crashing back to life magnificently for it's final coda. It's all quite fantastic and still sounds utterly tremendous three decades on.
Back in 1989 both Bernard Sumner from New Order and ex-Smiths guitar hero Johnny Marr were having a pretty solid year. Sumner and his New Order cohorts had just released thier greatest and most critically acclaimed album 'Technique' and Marr was continuing his gun-for-hire activities with a hugely successful stint in his old friend Matt Johnson's The The collective, appearing as the lead guitarist on their 'Mind Bomb' album. A chance meeting in Ibiza during the late summer saw both men finally decide to work together. Returning to Manchester, naming themselves Electronic and drafting in Neil Tennant from the Pet Shop Boys on extra vocals, the first fruits of their new collaboration was the truly sublime 'Getting Away With It' single which hit the Top Ten in December. A wonderful slice of downbeat synth-pop and janglesome guitar trills, the song still nestles snugly in my favourite tunes of all-time list - which may or may not see the light of day on this blog some time in the future. Other commitments kept Sumner and Marr away from each other for a good year or so before a follow-up could be put together. The self-titled debut album was finally released in May of 91 and the lead single - the blissed-out Balearic anthem 'Get The Message' - reached Number 8 a few weeks before. Combining Marr's multi-tracked guitar parts with a stomping baggy dance beat and parping synths, the song sees Sumner questioning the extra-curricular activities of his romantic partner whilst all the while trying to keep a handle on things. With Marr grooving away in the background on his trusty six-string, it really is impossible not to cut a rug to. Having the late and very great Denise Johnson turn up at the climax for some ear-caressing backing vocals is just showing off quite frankly. Both Sumner and Marr have stated many times over the years how important this track was to each of their musical journeys - Marr in particular has admitted that it's "probably the best song I've ever been involved with" - and it's very easy to see why. The duo re-appeared sporadically over the next decade or so with two further albums but they never surpassed this.
Originally hailing from Dublin and made up of guitarist and sonic provocateur Kevin Shields, bassist Debbie Goodge, Belinda Butcher on guitars and vocals and drummer Colm Ó Ciosóig, My Bloody Valentine have - across their 35 year career - released only three full-length albums. This is mainly down to Shields and his extreme perfectionism but it's also fair to say that once you record an album as mesmerisingly magnificent as 1991's 'Loveless' then where else can you go? It's no surprise that Shields took 22 years to follow it up - a break so long that the rest of the band recused themselves from MBV duty and took up 'proper' jobs. Signed to Alan McGee's Creation Records label in 1990, the recording costs for 'Loveless' were so huge that the label came close to bankruptcy by the time the album was released. No mean feat when you consider that 91 also saw Creation release albums by Primal Scream, Teenage Fanclub, Swervedriver and Slowdive. In fact, things were so precarious that the only sensible action to take was to drop the band. So, incredibly, by the time 'Loveless' was taking it's place at the top end of many an Album Of The Year list in December 91, MBV were on the look out for a new home. They eventually signed to Island Records who - magnificently - were long out of business by the time that the 'mbv' album saw the light of day in 2013. Since then, there's been no new music from Shields and company, although he's been very busy tinkering away on the old albums - both 'Loveless' and 1988's debut 'Isn't Anything' have been remastered and rereleased more than once. Back to 'Loveless' though and listening back to it in 2021 is akin to being strapped to the back of a rocket and shot into space whilst off your napper on mushrooms and undergoing the old 'Clockwork Orange' Ludovico technique. It is still a monumental mind-melding assault of sound and feel, with swathes of dissonant noise, feedback up the wazoo and all kinds of experimental merriment that stands in a field of one. Touching on dream-pop, shoegaze, jazz textures, art-rock, drone, fuzz and post-punk soundscapes, Shields manipulates his guitar sound to such an extent that it really doesn't sound like a guitar at all - it could easily be a jumbo jet plane ploughing through the listeners brain. Drenched in reverb, sustain and a whole smorgasbord of drop tunings, it sounded like nothing else then and nobody else has come close since. Just as important too are the vocals of Belinda Butcher, recorded way down in the mix to sound like as much of a musical instrument as the guitars and drums. The combination of the two are at their best on the stunning 'Soon' which I've possibly listened to a hundred times and I'm still nowhere near to fully understanding how the band put the song together. The original is an utter marvel of a track - all driving rhythms, thunderous drums and searing guitar work from Shields - but there's also a phenomenal remix version out there by the dearly departed Andrew Weatherall that is more than worthy of your listening pleasure.
Into the Top 5 then and it's interesting to note that the final few tunes on this list are all ballads. I imagine it's an age thing as I'm pretty certain that if I had put this countdown together even ten years ago, the final 5 would have been slightly more uptempo. Who knows - maybe I'm just a sucker for a slow jam. In at Number 5 we have a full-blown Seattle supergroup. Put together in early 91 by Chris Cornell, Temple Of The Dog was ostensibly a solo project by the Soundgarden singer wherein he wanted to pay tribute to his best friend Andrew Wood who had succumbed to a heroin overdose in 1990 at the ridiculously young age of 24. Wood was the lead singer with the glam-heavy Seattle rock band Mother Love Bone and he and the group were on the cusp of stardom before he died. Cornell, understandably bereft, poured his emotions into a suite of songs that he felt were 'too emotional' for the next Soundgarden album so, with the help of his bandmate Matt Cameron on drums, he booked studio time to put the songs down on tape. Joining him on the recordings were Wood's MLB cohorts Jeff Ament on bass and guitarist Stone Gossard. They had recently been recording with an old guitarist friend of theirs called Mike McCready with a view to forming a new band. Unbeknown to Cornell, Gossard had been communicating with a singer from Los Angeles called Eddie Vedder who had written some lyrics that Gossard and Ament were both hugely excited by. Eventually of course, Pearl Jam would be born from these sessions but first, Cornell wanted to get the Temple Of The Dog album out on the shelves and make some money for Andrew Wood's family. The one-off album is a veritable feast of all things grunge - anthemic choruses, gnarly riffs, epic song structures - all topped off with Cornell's once-in-a-lifetime voice. I could quite easily have picked 'Say Hello To Heaven' or 'Reach Down' for this list as they convey Cornell's emotions in spine-tingling detail but really, once you hear the incredible duet between Cornell and Vedder on 'Hunger Strike' then all bets are off. Over the years this has quite rightly become a proper rock standard and I'm hard-pressed to think of many vocal performances from either man that come close. As originally envisaged, the 'TOTD' album was a one-off but 25 years on the original group - minus Vedder - got back together for a brief North American tour that culminated with a brace of dates at the famed Paramount Theatre in their hometown of Seattle. Further activity was talked about but tragically, Cornell left us less than 12 months later.
And so we reach the top of the tree of this run-down and you may not be that surprised to see my all-time favourite ever band claiming the big prize. The finest alt-rock group in history, R.E.M. have been such an important part of my life for almost forty years that placing them in this list after the mega-successful 1991 that they had was an absolute given. That year's 'Out Of Time' album was a real game-changer for the quartet from Athens, Georgia. They had been quietly getting more and more popular and commercially stable for a good few years with 6 albums of tremendously thrilling indie-rock, shot through with an intelligence and socially aware outlook that few other bands had been able to master. By the time of 1988's superb 'Green' opus, Frontman Michael Stipe had, along with his cohorts Peter Buck, Mike Mills and Bill Berry, fashioned the group into a beefy, stadium-filling rock giant. Two solid years of touring had almost done them in though and by the time they re-convened in the studio to record album number 7, the thought of another full-blown rock album had become anathema to them. to that end, Buck in particular had no desire to plug in his electric guitar and instead focused on acoustic instruments such as his new found love of the mandolin. Mills and Berry swapped roles with the latter focusing on bass instead of drums and Mills sticking behind his piano. The results were a totally different sound for the group - eschewing the driving jangle of early albums for a more downbeat and relaxed feel. Upon it's release in March of 91, first single 'Losing My Religion' catapulted R.E.M. into a completely new area of success, becoming at a stroke their biggest ever worldwide hit. As anyone with a radio knows these days, it's a song that's impossible to escape from too. Just as well it's so good. Looking back though, I have to say that the rest of 'Out Of Time' is a bit of a confusing muddle. Without 'Losing My Religion' on board, would it have become so huge - upwards of 10 million copies sold - and changed the landscape for Stipe and co? The evidence suggests not. There's the ill-advised duet with hip-hop legend KRS-ONE on 'Radio Song' that seemed like a good idea at the time but which has dated horribly. There's the insufferably twee 'Shiny Happy People' that was originally earmarked for the first single before somebody saw sense and which was disowned by the band for the rest of their career. There's also two examples of downbeat, stream-of-consciousness art-rock from Stipe in 'Low' and 'Belong' that, although wonderful, are as far removed from a big, commercial rock sound as you can get. Throw in an instrumental oddity in 'Endgame' and the lovely Mike Mills-sung 'Near Wild Heaven' and it's all a bit of a curate's egg. However, deep in the second half of the album, you'll find a bunch of the finest songs that R.E.M. ever produced. The stunning acoustic-led 'Half A World Away' was a pre-cursor to the band's astonishing 'Automatic From The People' album in 1992, and the other track (after 'Shiny...') that featured Kate Pierson from fellow Georgians The B-52's - the delightful 'Me In Honey' - was a reminder of the band's janglesome past. But it's all about 'Country Feedback' really. It always has been. It smacked me around the chops on first hearing back in 91 and it still does the same to this day. An excoriating description of a dying relationship that winds and wends it's way around a weeping pedal steel guitar riff, this is Stipe firing on all cylinders lyrically and the rest of the band are at the very top of their game musically. I remember telling myself thirty years ago that this track was up their with their finest moments at that point, and twenty further years and 8 more albums released before they split in 2011 did not change my mind. They came close of course - especially on 'Automatic...' and 96's 'New Adventures In Hi-Fi' - but this is their masterpiece. What a band.
Great work Si!
ReplyDeleteCheers dude!
DeleteEven Flow is my favourite Pearl Jam song and in addition when you refer to the Roskilde tragedy, Vedder mentions it in Love Boat Captain on 2002’s Riot Act.
ReplyDeleteSecondly, for Nirvana i much prefer Smells Like Teen Spirit. Just so iconic. And my favourite Soundgarden track is Black Hole Sun.
Thirdly, Wind of Change is a superb song.
Wind of Change is a great song.
ReplyDeleteBest songs of 1991 are The Show Must Go On, Even Flow and Bittersweet Symphony.
ReplyDelete“performing three hour concerts with the San Francisco Philharmonic Orchestra or duetting with the likes of Lou Reed and Marianne Faithfull, which you'd never see Limp Bizkit attempting.“ that’s because;
ReplyDelete1. A symphony orchestra does not suit Limp Bizkit at all.
2. Limp Bizkit are dreadful and up there with the atrocious Marilyn Manson probably the worst singers in music history.
Wind of Change is a brilliant song.
ReplyDeleteBest REM song is Everybody Hurts.
ReplyDelete