With the possible exception of SWANS, I can't think of another band whose music lends itself to so many ornately flowery descriptions as My Bloody Valentine. Hipsters, rock scribes, `zine hacks, pedantic knowitalls, music geeks and frustrated record-store-clerks alike all fall over each other to capture the perfect analogy to sum up the band's singular sound. I'm no exception to that rule, as I once encapsulated their song, "Only Shallow" thusly...
After four sharp drum bursts, the song erupts in a messy ejaculation of a hundred de-tuned electric guitars, all screaming through a heaving, scale-worrying riff, before incongruously settling into a lilting wash of distorted strumming under Bilinda Butcher's largely incomprehensible cooing.
...and it went on from there.
I think I took My Bloody Valentine for granted when they were first around. My initial critique of the band was that there was too much "Valentine" and not enough "Bloody" for my taste, although I changed my tune upon the release of their sprawling album Loveless, a sensory-engulfing slab of music that occupied -- and continues to occupy -- a lonely, sonically unique realm all its own. As I've laboriously pointed out in the past, I saw them play at the New Ritz over on 54th Street ... and withstood the legendary onslaught of "You Made Me Realize." But, I've already written my two big, pompous posts about being onboard the My Bloody Valentine train back when it mattered, so to speak. Been there, saw that, bought the t-shirt ... literally. There's no need to rehash it all again.
Well, yes there is, as it turns out.
As any rock jerk worth their salt is doubtlessly aware, the long-fabled reissues of My Bloody Valentine's diminutive back catalog are finally a reality. Once again, scribes of all stripes are scrambling to accurately divine the nuances between the original release and the re-masters (my favorite article on same being this one). There's been a lot of bellyache and ballyhoo over an alleged labeling mishap. Those with what must be the keenest ears on the planet claim to be able to notice the difference. I wouldn't presume to be counted among that elite.
But still.... dangle a lovingly (or should that be lovelessly?) re-packaged classic album in front of me, and I start to drool like a famished rodent gazing at a basket of radishes. I'm a sucker like that (as has been documented in the past).
To test myself, I've spent the past few mornings listening to Loveless (in its original form) on my walks to work. I figure, if I'm somehow not satisfied with how it sounds in its initial format, I'll consider springing for the new version. If somehow I feel it could be improved upon, I'll pony up the dough.
To my ears, Loveless seems to have remained right where I'd left it. The same woozily chaotic list still pervades through these tracks, and if you try to sing along, you basically end up sounding like a drunken ghost. It's still a vertignious listening experience like precious few others (and not exactly the ideal soundtrack to score a morning walk up Fifth Avenue). I still thrill to certain, otherworldly moments, but I can't help thinking that it's just fine the way it is. I mean, isn't it supposed to sound like this? Isn't that blurry conflagration of sound what makes it so hypnotic. I don't necessarily think a spring cleaning of the album's meticulously-crafted sonic camouflage will really serve it that well.
More to the point, however, it's no longer the early `90s. As much as I might sometimes wish it could, listening to Loveless can't make me 24 again. Sure, it still retains the whiff of those halcyon days, but too much has happened since. My 44-year-old ears just don't hear it the same way that 24-year-old's did, and all the remastering in the world won't change that.
What are your thoughts? Are you going to buy the My Bloody Valentine re-masters?
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