Album review: My Bloody Valentine, mbv (mybloodyvalentine.org)
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.What's he building in there? This. For 22 years, the unproductivity of Kevin Shields and MBV has been one of rock's running jokes. Suddenly, late last weekend, mbv was sprung upon a startled world. And, as befits a band who last recorded in the age of attention spans, it's an album that demands you switch off your smartphone and immerse.
Closer in sound to 1988's Isn't Anything than 1991's Loveless, it has accessible entry-points and startling moments: such as the reverse swoon midway through "Only Tomorrow" which gives your heart the bends.
But mbv is irreducible to mere instalments. A substance unto itself, it's a deliciously hypnagogic miasma of softly whispered vocals, pummelling looped grooves and Shields' trademark "glide guitar". Melody is never a slave to the rhythm and it all moves with the woozy warp of off-centre vinyl, of flat batteries and stretched tape.
Despite being one of the most namechecked bands in history, nobody else sounds like this. Neither old-fashioned nor modern, My Bloody Valentine stand apart, out of time. And mbv leaves all other post-rock experimentalists looking like trivial dilettantes. If jet engines could sing, these would be their hymns.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments