HOPE SANDOVAL - MAZZY STAR - Seasons Of Your Day

Imagine a California lost and found again, somewhere between ocean and desert: it's late at night, and the eye drifts gently downward, from the starry black of the sky to the reddish-yellow pinpricks of a city. Then the gaze lingers elsewhere, along the shore. And there, where the sand gives way to concrete, sits a small, out-of-the-way amusement park.

The gates are locked now, yet a few neon signs still flicker, a few sounds timidly fill the darkness. The Ferris wheel, motionless just a second before, starts turning again.

It's exactly at this perfect moment that the Wurlitzer organ catches us off guard, taking us by the hand into "In The Kingdom", the opening track of "Seasons Of Your Day", the fourth studio album by Mazzy Star, and their long-awaited return. Many, many seasons have passed since then: little or nothing really seems to have changed. In their world, it's as if only a day had gone by, and so, in a way, everything's fine. Let's take our seat on the Ferris wheel and let ourselves be lulled, while the waves of this psychedelic dream wash away space and time.

It's true that, given some heavyweight comebacks (David Bowie and My Bloody Valentine) and allowing for due proportions, one might have reasonably expected something different from Mazzy Star, champions of Californian dream-pop in the early Nineties, with a handful of albums to their name and at least one great radio anthem - "Fade Into You" - left for posterity. In fact, it had been since 1996 that a record of theirs had graced record store shelves: but anyone who bet on alternative sonic directions, different stimuli of interpretation or arrangement, got their calculations wrong. Because, as it turns out, the band never really broke up in the meantime (hard to believe, but they themselves have repeatedly pointed this out in recent interviews), and the helm, despite Hope Sandoval's side project, has remained firmly set on one familiar horizon: folk and acoustic blues, psychedelia, lysergic electric guitars and a whispered, angelic voice. Evidently there was neither the will nor the need for drastic stylistic updates just to wink at the latest trend: Mazzy Star aren't that kind of band, and their own fans, though grown and matured, are all things considered the same - at least in number - as twenty years ago.

This is the starting point: a crucial aspect, at once the Los Angeles group's strength and its Achilles' heel. Whoever is willing to forgive them, if only out of old affection, will find themselves facing a good record.

Ten tracks ranging from 4 to 6-7 minutes in length; as mentioned, a warm, acoustic-hearted framework, embellished by David Roback's excellent guitar work - thirty years of career (first with Rain Parade, then with Opal) devoted to the six strings, always skillful and understated in accompaniment, effective in his slide flourishes and in punctuating the spaces between verses with electric guitar. The other expressive cornerstone is undoubtedly Hope Sandoval, an eternal doll full of grace, a mysterious and captivating singer. The enveloping hypnosis, the dreamlike enchantment so peculiar to Mazzy Star is certainly down to her. Rounding out the picture are occasional keyboards, glockenspiel and organ, plus a restrained rhythm section that never overplays its hand. Mid-tempos and gentle acoustic ballads remain the norm, at the expense of the more acid-drenched episodes the "kids" were once valid representatives of: of that old vein, almost only the closing "Flying Low" remains, an unsettling, lysergic slow blues somewhere between Hendrix and early Pink Floyd. One potential single - "Let Myself Down" - sums up the whole affair, along with a couple of repetitions that are, all things considered, not particularly useful (for this writer, that means the title track and "Sparrow"). But above all, there's the great, much-missed Bert Jansch, a welcome guest embroidering the litany of "Spoon" with his acoustic guitar.

The rest, or at least most of the rest, consists of relaxing campfire-under-the-stars moments, soft whispered declarations, bare and alluring: more than Nico or Cocteau Twins, one is almost tempted to think of the bucolic Led Zeppelin of their third and fourth albums. That is, four English dreamers who, from their cottage, longed for California, in the company of David Crosby or Joni Mitchell.

And so, somehow, everything comes full circle, and the Ferris wheel starts turning again just as it did in the early Nineties: everything has changed, and yet nothing is different. At least in Mazzy Star's amusement park.

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23/09/2013