Inspiral Carpets

The approach to the second album was thus marked by optimism and ambition. There are no particular anecdotes tied to its sessions, however much the mysterious and complex music that emerged from them might suggest otherwise. "The Beast Inside" was the brainchild of five working-class lads, buoyed by the results achieved so far and ready to astonish the world, with all the recklessness typical of youth and of being part of a scene that, for better or worse, revolved around ecstasy.

"The Beast Inside" hit shops in April 1991. It's a much less approachable album than anything the band had recorded up to that point, marked by a deep exploration of sounds and timbres. Yet its somewhat anaemic commercial performance remains hard to explain, considering that at least the lead single, "Caravan", complete with house piano, has an infectiously catchy quality and stands apart from the dynamics of the rest of the tracklist. The record entered the British chart at number 5, but three weeks later there was already no trace of it left.

Calling it the band's peak might seem provocative, given that they released an album like "Life", containing classics of the calibre of "This Is How It Feels" and "She Comes In The Fall"; nevertheless, whatever the band members themselves might think, the concentration of ideas and sounds packed into "The Beast Inside" is astonishing. It is, without doubt, one of the forgotten masterpieces of British music.

Won’t lie about these things you say,

now this gets easier every day,

can’t give you the child you so badly want,

or even mend your wounded love

The title track is their undisputed peak when it comes to working Celtic suggestions into their sound, a territory they had already explored in the past. A powerful march that unfolds amid the sound of bells, organ solos, folk arpeggios, bass lines with a progressive flavour, vocal harmonies as old as dolmens, and a pervasive pagan-ritual atmosphere.

Winter's warmth brings sadness,

comfort Kathy through madness,

see the beauty of the falls,

Tony never saw it all.

Even though Inspiral Carpets have long since reformed, the intricate tracks on this album – the closest British indie rock of that era came to progressive rock – are still conspicuously absent from their live sets. You could call it a kind of unclaimed "Dog Man Star" (Suede), and the hope that it will ever get its due seems rather faint, since the band's audience appears to keep shrinking to a small knot of nostalgics as time goes by. Proof enough that, without the hysteria whipped up by a relentless media campaign – the kind that benefited the admittedly deserving Stone Roses – even conjuring up an entire universe and setting it to music with obsessive care can simply not be enough.