Stone Roses

Manchester, population 400,000, is considered England's third city. It's here that on 21 May 1982, Bernard Manning, in cahoots with Tom Wilson and Rob Gretton — respectively a failed comedian, the head honcho of Factory Records, and manager of the New Order — opened what within four years would go from a dull, out-of-date black-music club to the legendary temple of rave culture: the Haçienda.

It's from the explosive blend of house music from across the Atlantic, the revival of "jangle pop" that was spreading at the time (Jesus And Mary Chain, Primal Scream, but also Echo And The Bunnymen) and the influence of local bands (New Order and Smiths above all) that, together with the "second summer of love", the "Madchester" scene was born, destined to tear down the barriers between rock and dance and profoundly influence English music (and beyond) for years to come.

The debut album by Stone Roses is often cited as the scene's manifesto, but truth be told the dance element is far more evident on records by Happy Mondays, 808 State, and A Guy Called Gerald. There's no doubt the Stone Roses' debut was hugely influential, both for the immediate wave of imitators (The Charlatans, Northside, The Mock Turtles) and for its impact on the following decade's Britpop wave (its echo can be heard, one way or another, in Blur, Verve and Oasis) — if perhaps to a lesser degree than the boost it gave to the "big-beat" sound of Chemical Brothers and Fatboy Slim.

Long before being an important record, more or less representative and "milestone", the Stone Roses' self-titled album is a masterpiece — sun-drenched, magical and vital in a uniquely inimitable way.

Opening the dance, over a hazy bed of noise, is “I Wanna be Adored”. Hypnotic and gripping, almost shoegaze in feel, the song (like the whole album) is forged by an exceptional rhythm section, the Mani-Reni pairing on bass and drums respectively, inseparable, always brimming with flair and invention without ever slipping into showing off. Over this rhythmic foundation, only seemingly in the background (yet every phrase revolves around that double hi-hat hit!), John Squire's guitar hooks take root, weaving lines that are as irresistibly immediate as they are meticulously crafted in tone. Meanwhile, Ian Brown sings: “I wanna be adored, you adore me”. How can you argue with that? In “She Bangs The Drums” the mood shifts radically: the opening is again left to bass and drums, but this time the drumming takes a decidedly more dance-oriented direction, and the melody itself is carefree and brimming with optimism, just like the open guitar chords, arpeggiated in Squire's unmistakable, very sixties (almost Byrds-like) style.

That dreamy carefree spirit becomes downright moving on “Elephant Stone” (released in 1988 as a single and included only on the American edition of the album), present only in the American edition and released in Britain solely as a single, produced incidentally by Peter Hook of New Order. It's truly impossible to separate the elements, flawlessly set into this little pop gem: drums and bass in lockstep, mechanical, drive the track alongside Squire's breathtaking arpeggio, which reaches its absolute peak here. The vocal, drenched in reverb and bolstered by backing harmonies, follows one of those melodies that makes you ask yourself on first listen: “How did I ever live without this?”. Perhaps even better is the version found on “Turns Into Stone”, introduced by a sequence of cymbals, some played in reverse, over which Mani and Reni gradually build the flawless rhythmic groundwork.

The recipe for “Waterfall” is the usual one, but what stands out is the guitar solo, forever balanced between arpeggio and melodic lead and rich in tonal shifts, accompanied by the first of the album's many rhythmic “escapes”. The following track, “Don't Stop”, is nothing but “Waterfall” played backwards, overdubbed with lyrics inspired precisely by the words of “Waterfall” heard in reverse. Surprisingly, the track works remarkably well, stands on its own, and must have gone down a treat with the Chemical Brothers.

“Bye Bye Badman” has something of the more melancholy Beach Boys about it, with an instantly catchy chorus and a lovely coda, where once again we find the rhythm section's “escape” accompanied by Squire's embroidery. The following “Elizabeth My Dear” reworks the traditional theme of “Scarborough Fair Canticle”, made famous by Simon & Garfunkel, seasoned with lyrics that are rather provocative toward the Crown.

By this point the formula is clear, but even so “(Song For My) Sugar Spun Sister” still hits the mark, with a slightly more energetic sound, doubled vocals and the usual excellent bass ostinato.

The opening notes of the melody of “Made Of Stone” can't help but recall the theme of “Paint It Black” by the Rolling Stones, and the whole song is steeped in a sixties atmosphere, rendered somewhat decadent by the descending harmonies, offset by the exuberant chorus “Sometimes I fantasise…” and the off-beat drumming. “Shoot You Down”, even more retro, decisively reins in the energy that has dominated so far, with its slow-moving pace, full of stop-and-go moments, built on an early-Sixties progression.

The mood shifts entirely from the very first notes of the majestic arpeggio of “This Is The One”, another gem on the album. A long section with virtually no drums (which enter every eight bars to accentuate the sol-re plagal cadence) is followed by a second half built entirely around the interplay of drums and guitar, crowned by a melody that vaguely recalls the early Beatles and is reinforced by overdubbed vocal harmonies.

The track that closes the original UK version of the album is the astonishing “I Am The Resurrection”, which opens once again in Beatlesque territory, marked by a memorable yet simple descending bass line. Halfway through the track, however, comes the biggest rhythmic upheaval on the record: after a “false ending”, the bass launches into a new theme, answered by drumming more syncopated and fractured than ever, over which Squire finds room for his tonal flourishes, this time with a distinctly funky, distorted edge. Suddenly, you find yourself in the middle of a rave, and it's clear just how much this track would influence, rhythmically and otherwise, the “big beat” sound to come.

Closing the American edition of the album is the single “Fools Gold”, the Stone Roses' most famous track, and also the one most clearly influenced by the music of the Haçienda, where they would play a legendary show. The track is a sort of long jam that showcases the full inventiveness and skill of Reni (it's said that after he left the band the track was dropped from live sets, since the new drummer couldn't reproduce such dynamic and complex drumming) and the flair of Squire, as usual wrestling with a pile of effects layered into a funky frenzy.

Alongside the track, but no less essential, are Mani's supremely catchy bassline, which takes on the job of supplying the song's melody, and Ian Brown's calm murmur, which sounds less like singing than muttering to himself.

The follow-up to the Stone Roses saga was a long time coming, and when “Second Coming” finally arrived in 1994, press and public alike were deeply disappointed by a patchy project heavily dominated by Squire's new obsession with Led Zeppelin. In truth, with hindsight, the album isn't bad at all and contains some genuinely strong moments (“Begging You”, “Breaking Into Heaven”, “Love Spreads”) alongside some undeniable rip-offs (“Tears” is blatantly inspired by “Stairway To Heaven”). Either way, it's a world away from the radiant, delicate atmospheres of the debut. Anyone looking to recapture those would do better to listen to “Turns Into Stone”, a collection of tracks left off the first album, but still, for the most part, well worth hearing.

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12/11/2006