#8
The Wonderful World of Glossolalia
Last week, my dear (eight) readers, I crossed that threshold between maladjusted "normal" person into the beautiful realm of the maladjusted "special" person. What am I banging on about? Well, last week, I was taken out to lunch by a doctor. No ordinary doctor, mind you. We are talking a gentleman with a PhD in English Literature, here. A real life-saver. The restaurant we attended, for fans of geography, sits just on the edge of Guthrie Street in the capital city of Edinburgh from which I hail (in Scotland).
Among the big questions he posed to me that day were when was I going to drop out of my degree, as I had been spending too much time writing music reviews and failed all my exams. More pertinently, however, he asked me what my musical tastes were.
In my portable CD player at that very moment, all I had on me was a copy of the Beta Band’s eponymous first LP, and I was hardly going to lie to him and explain who this band were. Although their eclecticism earned me some bonus points, they just were not leftfield enough, plus I had to make myself appear interesting and intelligent in his presence to banish this image of weird slacker he had (correctly) attached to me. Several band names scrambled in my head until eventually I settled for the mellifluous Celtic folk duo the Cocteau Twins.
"They some kind of pop group?" he piped up, spooning some pasta into his massive gullet. "Far from it," I replied, hoping he would choke on just one ribbon right then and there. For those, like my dead doctor friend, who require information, they are a duo from Grangemouth in Scotland, and used to consist of Robin Guthrie and Elizabeth Fraser. The former wrote all of the music himself and provided all of the technical wizardry, while Fraser supplied the immaculate glossolalia; a big word meaning nonsensical vocals which sound like another language.
This album from the duo is often hailed as their best, and one would be hard pushed to argue with this, quite frankly, since it is pretty much a masterpiece when one considers their overall canon. The tracks here are atmospheric and dark folk tunes which conjure up the sound of dimly-lit caves in magical fairytales, or nasty, unpleasant coves one may discover in the pages of Gormenghast. This album, thematically, centres around powerful female characters in Roman and Greek myth, some of whom I have heard of but others which remain wholly alien, and the tracks are all wholly spectacular.
1. Ivo (3:53)
This luscious piece kicks off the album in dark and moody style, fading in over some ethereal acoustic guitars and moonlit notes on the bass before the drum beats enter and the track is a wash of glorious sound. Across Fraser’s yelping vocals, which conjure up Kate Bush at her most playfully giddy, some bells and guitars jangle out-of-sync over the processed drum machine beats. It might not sound particularly attractive here, but this music is really impossible to conjure up through words alone.
The relentless strumming of the background guitars essentially drives the tune along with the bass through its minor key modulations, but it is the bells and the neat little melancholy effects Guthrie spreads across the layers of intersecting and eye-popping vocals which keeps things original and breathtaking. The electric guitars and some very off-kilter, processed blobs of sound keep it strange indeed, and feedback is used in the way that Sonic Youth could only dream of in 1984. There is so much technical wizardry going here, it is impossible to keep track of where all of these noises are coming from. But the end result on this LP is always especially gorgeous.
2. Lorelei (3:41)
Named after a siren in German legend who lured boatmen to destruction, this track tops the opener and then some. Beginning with those bell noises once more over a quite outstanding bed of crystalline keyboard noise, the drum machine bangs in ferociously while Fraser allows her vocals to ascend to sky-high levels of brilliance. The track is driven along by the blistering glow emanating from the keyboards and the thud of the drums, and Fraser keeps her vocals enchanting throughout.
She really does manage to conjure up this image of herself as some sort of mythological figure, perhaps wrapped in seaweed off some obscure Scottish beach singing her songs a cappella into the night. Such an image can only be reinforced when you hear the deeper layer of her voice sing over the more sugary elements, and when the two of them collide the sound is truly stupendous.
She has a remarkable range, even if she is making nothing more than a series of bizarre vocal sounds, and it acts as a lead instrument on its own. Here it alternates from very high and mysterious to much more frightening and dark, and like a one woman Shakespeare’s Sister, she drags us through the beauty of this piece with a smile on her coquettish lips.
3. Beatrix (3:10)
Much more medieval in sound, this track makes effective use of some eerie notes played on what sounds like some guitars and synthesisers simultaneously. This refrain really sounds as though it should be played on a harpsichord, but still sounds great here on its own. The slinky bass and Fraser then enter, the latter like some mummy emerging from her sarcophagus who suddenly takes a notion to sing. The second half expands into much louder and gloomier piece with some hissy, oppressive percussion and some shouted vocals from Fraser looming down across the sparser sound which is different but no less immediate than on the previous tunes. I have no idea who Beatrix is, incidentally.
4. Persephone (4:16)
For a track about the queen of the underworld, this is surprisingly tame. The drum machine bashes in the beat instantly while the electric guitars growl around this gorgeous wall of sound. An acoustic guitar and bass provide the brooding element once more before Fraser warbles in characteristic style, just a soupcon more audible than she was on the previous tracks.
The wash of crystalline keyboard is back for the chorus, which elevates it to divine status again, while Fraser sings lines which sound like "paper chase is on" and "is what it takes," but Lord knows what any of this actually means. Her vocals are particularly impassioned over the gorgeously remastered screech of the synthesisers and guitars, whereby each an every nuance of the music has been perfectly brought back by Guthrie. The piece ends in coruscating style, with the music just gently simmering in the ear of the listener and sizzling behind their eyeballs. Luscious.
5. Pandora (For Cindy) (5:31)
Some dreamy guitars play over this repetitive track which has an incredibly catchy nonsense chorus which, as well as being a favourite of mine, is equally popular with the folks in Grangemouth asylum. The synthesisers and guitars provide nothing more than a blissful bed for Fraser here, and she is allowed to take reign over the much more spaced-out music which drifts across the speaker beautifully, despite being limited to just one chorus.
Among the big questions he posed to me that day were when was I going to drop out of my degree, as I had been spending too much time writing music reviews and failed all my exams. More pertinently, however, he asked me what my musical tastes were.In my portable CD player at that very moment, all I had on me was a copy of the Beta Band’s eponymous first LP, and I was hardly going to lie to him and explain who this band were. Although their eclecticism earned me some bonus points, they just were not leftfield enough, plus I had to make myself appear interesting and intelligent in his presence to banish this image of weird slacker he had (correctly) attached to me. Several band names scrambled in my head until eventually I settled for the mellifluous Celtic folk duo the Cocteau Twins.
"They some kind of pop group?" he piped up, spooning some pasta into his massive gullet. "Far from it," I replied, hoping he would choke on just one ribbon right then and there. For those, like my dead doctor friend, who require information, they are a duo from Grangemouth in Scotland, and used to consist of Robin Guthrie and Elizabeth Fraser. The former wrote all of the music himself and provided all of the technical wizardry, while Fraser supplied the immaculate glossolalia; a big word meaning nonsensical vocals which sound like another language.
This album from the duo is often hailed as their best, and one would be hard pushed to argue with this, quite frankly, since it is pretty much a masterpiece when one considers their overall canon. The tracks here are atmospheric and dark folk tunes which conjure up the sound of dimly-lit caves in magical fairytales, or nasty, unpleasant coves one may discover in the pages of Gormenghast. This album, thematically, centres around powerful female characters in Roman and Greek myth, some of whom I have heard of but others which remain wholly alien, and the tracks are all wholly spectacular.
1. Ivo (3:53)
This luscious piece kicks off the album in dark and moody style, fading in over some ethereal acoustic guitars and moonlit notes on the bass before the drum beats enter and the track is a wash of glorious sound. Across Fraser’s yelping vocals, which conjure up Kate Bush at her most playfully giddy, some bells and guitars jangle out-of-sync over the processed drum machine beats. It might not sound particularly attractive here, but this music is really impossible to conjure up through words alone.
The relentless strumming of the background guitars essentially drives the tune along with the bass through its minor key modulations, but it is the bells and the neat little melancholy effects Guthrie spreads across the layers of intersecting and eye-popping vocals which keeps things original and breathtaking. The electric guitars and some very off-kilter, processed blobs of sound keep it strange indeed, and feedback is used in the way that Sonic Youth could only dream of in 1984. There is so much technical wizardry going here, it is impossible to keep track of where all of these noises are coming from. But the end result on this LP is always especially gorgeous.
2. Lorelei (3:41)
Named after a siren in German legend who lured boatmen to destruction, this track tops the opener and then some. Beginning with those bell noises once more over a quite outstanding bed of crystalline keyboard noise, the drum machine bangs in ferociously while Fraser allows her vocals to ascend to sky-high levels of brilliance. The track is driven along by the blistering glow emanating from the keyboards and the thud of the drums, and Fraser keeps her vocals enchanting throughout.
She really does manage to conjure up this image of herself as some sort of mythological figure, perhaps wrapped in seaweed off some obscure Scottish beach singing her songs a cappella into the night. Such an image can only be reinforced when you hear the deeper layer of her voice sing over the more sugary elements, and when the two of them collide the sound is truly stupendous.
She has a remarkable range, even if she is making nothing more than a series of bizarre vocal sounds, and it acts as a lead instrument on its own. Here it alternates from very high and mysterious to much more frightening and dark, and like a one woman Shakespeare’s Sister, she drags us through the beauty of this piece with a smile on her coquettish lips.
3. Beatrix (3:10)
Much more medieval in sound, this track makes effective use of some eerie notes played on what sounds like some guitars and synthesisers simultaneously. This refrain really sounds as though it should be played on a harpsichord, but still sounds great here on its own. The slinky bass and Fraser then enter, the latter like some mummy emerging from her sarcophagus who suddenly takes a notion to sing. The second half expands into much louder and gloomier piece with some hissy, oppressive percussion and some shouted vocals from Fraser looming down across the sparser sound which is different but no less immediate than on the previous tunes. I have no idea who Beatrix is, incidentally.
4. Persephone (4:16)
For a track about the queen of the underworld, this is surprisingly tame. The drum machine bashes in the beat instantly while the electric guitars growl around this gorgeous wall of sound. An acoustic guitar and bass provide the brooding element once more before Fraser warbles in characteristic style, just a soupcon more audible than she was on the previous tracks.
The wash of crystalline keyboard is back for the chorus, which elevates it to divine status again, while Fraser sings lines which sound like "paper chase is on" and "is what it takes," but Lord knows what any of this actually means. Her vocals are particularly impassioned over the gorgeously remastered screech of the synthesisers and guitars, whereby each an every nuance of the music has been perfectly brought back by Guthrie. The piece ends in coruscating style, with the music just gently simmering in the ear of the listener and sizzling behind their eyeballs. Luscious.
5. Pandora (For Cindy) (5:31)
Some dreamy guitars play over this repetitive track which has an incredibly catchy nonsense chorus which, as well as being a favourite of mine, is equally popular with the folks in Grangemouth asylum. The synthesisers and guitars provide nothing more than a blissful bed for Fraser here, and she is allowed to take reign over the much more spaced-out music which drifts across the speaker beautifully, despite being limited to just one chorus.
The drum machine beat is especially hypnotic and enchanting in this track, but everything else just rocks back and forth like a tortured lullaby perched precariously on the edge of a nightmare. Divided between the dreamy instrumental parts and the repeated chorus pattern, the whole track is oddly mesmerising if a touch overlong.6. Amelia (3:28)
Much heavier in sound, this crashes in with several layers of acoustic guitars plucking away furiously over the dense wall of drum and bass which Guthrie creates. Two intersecting strands of Fraser’s vocals come together skilfully, the lower layer chirruping in a flighty bird-like style, while the former just hiccups its way through a series of "na-na" passages with aplomb. The drum machine program here is especially complex, but the track rocks back and forth with a surprisingly brighter sound than the previous tunes and is ultimately just as soothing and gorgeous, if just a wee bit more prickly on the ears.
7. Aloysius (3:25)
A much more pleasant sound is cultivated for this gorgeous tune which evokes a much brighter and sunnier landscape in one’s head. Two electric guitars jangle some lush melodies over the first minute before the drum machine boots the piece into action and Fraser is allowed to make effective use of her "sha-sha" vocal sounds. Aloysius was an Italian Jesuit nurse who died nursing plague victims, apparently, so it makes sense that a track in his name would be so pleasurable. It is the vocals and the gorgeous little phrases on the electric guitar which gives this piece its truly uplifting sound, and despite a few darker bridges, it is for the most part, of the most gorgeous and moving pieces on a truly striking and artistic record.
8. Cicely (3:26)
Possibly named after Dame Cicely Saunders who formed St Christopher’s Hospice for the terminally ill in 1967, this piece returns to the darker, more brooding sound of earlier tracks and makes use of some mysterious glockenspiel effects amid the cornucopia of screechy noise and processed genius.
The guitars and synthesisers are pushed in the mid-section to such sonic extremes that a truly deafening wall of noise consumes the listener, and almost forces the sound out through their eyes and nostrils. The duelling vocal dynamic is made use of once more to great effect, but Fraser is nowhere near intelligible as yet. A much more complex track on the whole, there is a whole plethora of curious and brilliant wizardry at play here, which perhaps makes it if not the best track, then certainly one of Guthrie’s most accomplished.
9. Otterley (4:00)
It sounds as though it has been used in some pretentious French perfume advert, and it probably has, because here over the distant warble of the synthesiser and the eerie rumbles of the guitar, Fraser whispers out random French words to spooky effect. She almost sounds tantalisingly erotic here, and if I had a more vivid imagination, this track may send me into paroxysms of adolescent bliss. There is a deliberate attempt to tie the music here to the sea or dark, eerie seascapes, as some sound effects of waves are played in while Fraser plays the blurry mermaid on the horizon. Perhaps a tad overlong, this nevertheless is completely different from all that has gone before, and is a moody and gorgeous little piece in my jaded eyes.
10. Domino (6:19)
The climax of the album is a triumph. Over some rising synthesiser and ascending pads, Fraser sings some domino-themed lyrics while the music is restrained for the first two minutes. It just broods and morphs gently in the distance, forming into the brilliant track it will eventually become, and after too long a wait, it finally erupts into the brilliant closer it is. The guitars chug heavily over Fraser’s galloping vocals, and all of the odd digitised effects come together to create another painterly and vivid wash of noise which sounds like a work of frickin’ art.
How Guthrie manages to get his cheap eighties synthesisers to wail almost like violins, and sound as though he has a ten-piece orchestra in the studio with himself and Liz is a triumph. It abounds with gorgeous little moments around each and every corner and is best enjoyed when it washes over the listener, who is rendered silent in sheer, rapturous delight. It has a much larger and more multi-stranded sound to it which makes it a really thrilling and exciting denouement to the album, and perhaps even the standout tune on this record.
Music about tough mythical creatures sung to nonsense vocals over an incredible canvas of electronica has never sounded so brilliant as this. Cocteau Twins were a singular band, much along the lines of such acts as Dead Can Dance, who manage to incorporate bizarre leftfield genres and turn them into highly enjoyable and accessible albums.
This act take Scottish folk and pretty much drag it backwards through several hedges, and the end result is masterpieces like this or Heaven or Las Vegas. Although their obscurity and the oddity of the sound may be off-putting to some, this is highly recommended to those who appreciate bands who sound utterly unlike any other act who has ever walk the face of the earth and who make music which is very much their own, and nobody else’s. Their finest hour, and now my dead doctor friend’s favourite group.
Rating: 10/10
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