Shoegaze

È stato bello avere vent’anni negli anni 90 was translated: It was great to be in your twenties in the 90s: the last period of relatively widespread prosperity, no pandemic restricting individual freedoms, and the emergence of the final true small revolutions in music. Grunge on one side of the Atlantic and shoegaze on the other ushered in a decade that would also give birth to trip-hop and britpop, as well as the golden age of Italian alternative rock. Almost every day saw the release of an "unmissable" album, and this wasn't just youthful naiveté: no, many of those records are still considered "essential" today, regarded as such even by generations who, for obvious reasons of age, never experienced all those emotions firsthand.

Shoegaze, which sprouted in England toward the end of the 1980s, was born with the precise aim of experimenting with new sounds, staking much of its aesthetic on the role of guitars, and in particular on the effects applied to them. It was a "noisy" yet enveloping sound, one that could feel comforting to anyone who felt the need to lose themselves in tangles of sound that weren't always perfectly distinguishable, with vocals that often faded into the background. There were many variations, from the most "pop" to the most anguished, but few bands managed to earn any real recognition beyond their own niche.

Sales were undoubtedly modest for everyone involved, especially considering that records were still selling copiously in those years. But many of those works consolidated their importance over time, eventually being regarded as true milestones of rock music. Just think of what bands like My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive and Ride achieved, managing to firmly set the stylistic coordinates of the genre and decisively influence a countless number of musicians who followed.

The shoegaze season didn't last long, and the arrival of britpop on British soil helped, within just a few years, to bring it to a premature close. But its seeds kept smoldering beneath the surface, enough to forever define that particular wall of sound made up of genuine cascades of sound, the work of guitarists hunched over their pedalboards, intent not so much on staring at their own shoes (hence the name, sometimes used disparagingly by the genre's detractors) as on staring at the levels of their distortion pedals, delay and reverb.

OndaRock has always followed with great attention both the classics of shoegaze and the celebrated comebacks of the genre's historic bands, as well as the most recent trends, often not by chance – though sometimes a little too hastily – filed under the term "nu-gaze". Below we have selected albums never before covered in depth on these pages, which deserve to be rediscovered. These are by no means "minor" records – quite the opposite: each of them made a necessary contribution to shaping or consolidating the defining features of the shoegaze aesthetic. It's wonderful to listen to them again in sequence, so we can all keep dreaming together with our eyes open... (Claudio Lancia)

ADORABLE – Against Perfection (Creation, 1993)

A key building block of the first shoegaze wave, Adorable hailed from Coventry, in the heart of England's West Midlands, playing a psych-power-pop that hits a sweet spot perhaps only Ride and Lush managed to achieve in those years: the ideal alchemy between shoegaze and pop-rock, already represented by their first single "Sunshine Smile" (1993), later left off the debut album. 

“Against Perfection” is indeed made up of ten tracks with killer riffs and unforgettable refrains, as in the anthem “Glorious” and the moonlit “A To Fade In”. They're carried by the voice and words of Piotr/Peter Fijalkowski, who openly draws inspiration from Ian McCulloch of Echo & The Bunnymen, on an intimate, personal journey where awareness is reached through memories of family life (“I Don’t Wanna Be/ Faded Skin/ I Don’t Wanna Fade Out/ I Wanna Fade In/ I Wanna Fade In” – “A To Fade In”) and declarations of love and rage (“I can’t follow what I don’t believe in/ And that’s why there’s nothing left of me/ ‘Cause I don’t believe in you/ You’re so beautiful” – “Homeboy”), letting go into a liberating, full-throated singalong that seeks the sing-along as a ritual to exorcise the future. 

Closing the circle in perfect fashion – not deliberately sought, as the programmatic title might suggest, but stumbled upon – is “Breathless”, with its imperious guitars and those indelible, fragile, romantic lines: “I’m breathless and speachless/ But still, there is so much to say/ In words with one syllable/ I love you”. (Maria Teresa Soldani)

BAILTER SPACE – Vortura (Flying Nun Records, 1994)

In the beginning there were the Gordons, a guitar-bass-drums trio playing an extremely noisy post-punk documented on a couple of albums (released between 1981 and 1984) that made their mark on New Zealand soil. Once that experience ended, guitarist Alister Parker carried on his musical adventure by forming, together with ex-Clean drummer Hamish Kilgour, Nelsh Bailter Space, a name later shortened to Bailter Space. While the first albums, and especially “Robot World”, had been not entirely successful attempts to mediate, via post-punk, between the energy of noise-rock and the ecstasy of shoegaze, with “Vortura” the band – at the time made up of Parker (vocals, guitar), John Halvorsen (guitar, vocals) and Brent McLachlan (drums, sampler) – reached the peak of its creativity, putting together a handful of tracks of tremendous impact; for the recording, the band flew to the United States for the first time, working across no fewer than five different studios. If the noise-rock tank of “Projects” leans on a more thunderous, roaring sound (echoed, with an industrial edge, on “I.C.Y.” and, with punk fervor, on “Dark Blue”), the following “Process Paid” offers a mix of shoegaze and noise-rock that also resurfaces on “Shadow”, while “X” revolves around more dreamlike sonorities, and “Voices” and “No. 2” evoke Sonic Youth's “Dirty” era. “Galaxy”, on the other hand, is a distorted ballad with a Velvet-ish flavor; “Reactor” carries echoes of Jesus and Mary Chain; “Control” closes the record with suffocating, apocalyptic tones. (Francesco Nunziata)

BAND OF SUSANS – The Word And The Flesh (Restless, 1991)

Having left behind two excellent albums (“Hope Against Hope” and, above all, “Love Agenda”), Band Of Susans opted for a relatively more accessible sound, recording what amounts to “a tribute to the E chord” with a lineup that had recently been refreshed by the arrival of guitarists Anne Husick and Mark Lonergan, who joined veterans Robert Poss (guitar, vocals), Susan Stenger (bass, vocals) and Ron Spitzer (drums). On “The Word And The Flesh”, an album that moves away from the noise-rock of their early days, whenever the guitars aren't engaged in austerely paced compositions (“Ice Age”) or ones related to post-punk (the chiaroscuro ballad “Estranged Labor”), they throw themselves headlong into a continuum of chords that amount to a minimalist equivalent (it's no coincidence the album is dedicated to composer Julius Eastman) of shoegazers' post-psychedelic textures. Indeed, comparing the cover of “The Word And The Flesh” with that of “Loveless” by My Bloody Valentine (also released in 1991, but two months after Poss and co.'s record) reveals a lot: both feature a close-up image of a guitar, but it's clear that what Kevin Shields' band wants to convey (disorientation, psychic alteration, the idea that the extreme layering of guitars can push the listener toward metaphysical territory) is quite different from what Band Of Susans are after, namely an obsessive rumination on the density of distortion, on timbres and their more or less overt collisions. That rumination gives rise to tracks that are steady and driving (“Now Is Now”), hypnotic (“Trouble Follows”), brash (“Sermon On Competition, Part 2”), as rousing as punk'n'roll anthems (“Plot Twist”) or power-pop (“Silver Lining”), yet capable, when needed, of stepping aside for experiments in modulated distortion (“Tilt”). Making the record's minimalist pedigree even more explicit, it closes with a rendition of Rhys Chatham's “Guitar Trio”, with the composer himself lending a hand on six strings. (Francesco Nunziata)

BLIND MR. JONES – Stereo Musicale (Cherry Red, 1992)

The career of Blind Mr. Jones lasted just two EPs and as many LPs, but that was enough to turn this Buckinghamshire band into a cult name of the early shoegaze scene. Already held in high esteem by their peers – so much so that Neil Halstead played guitar on their first EP, and Johnny Greenwood harmonica on the second – with the addition of flautist John Tegner, and then with “Stereo Musicale”, they gained full command of their craft, finally landing on a distinctive, recognizable sound. The addition of the flute is a simple detail, yet one able to personalize their approach to the point of becoming an unmistakable trademark. Tegner's instrument can take on different roles within the songs' architecture: it can serve as the melodic anchor in place of the guitar (“Sisters”, “Spooky Vibes”) or as a spice added to more relaxed, psychedelic moments (“Lonesome Boatman”). That said, it would be wrong to claim that without the flute “Stereo Musicale” wouldn't be a shoegaze masterpiece. Tracks like the devastating “Henna And Swayed” or the whirling “Dolores” show how James Franklin and Richard Moore's guitars can occasionally rival Slowdive's shafts of light; while the rhythm section proves its stormy power on “Going On Cold”. (Michele Corrado)

BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE – Methodrone (Bomp!, 1995)

The debut of Anton Newcombe's long-running, prolific psychedelic ensemble, formed in San Francisco at the start of the decade, is dated 1995. From the outset the band confronts us with a jarring contrast: the references to the Rolling Stones' Brian Jones – who died prematurely under mysterious circumstances – and to the Jonestown mass suicide – in which nearly a thousand followers of cult leader Jim Jones took their own lives, in one of the most traumatic events in American history – sit alongside the sensuality of “Methodrone”'s slow-shoegaze, which kicks the story off with “Evergreen”, a dialogue between Newcombe and vocalists Elise Dye and Paola Simmonds. Several of the band's different souls are already stirring here, souls that would go on to define the trajectories of their later albums toward an all-out psychedelia somewhere between Spacemen 3, Jesus and Mary Chain, Loop, Velvet Underground and 13th Floor Elevators. With vocals that hover between listless and seductive, worthy of Ian Brown and set against the female voices, the album moves through psych-rock (“That Girl Suicide”, “She’s Gone”), slow-shoegaze (“Wasted”, “Short Wave”, in a mood akin to Sonic Youth), dream-pop (“Everyone Says”, the ballad “I Love You”), dark/new wave (the nearly ten lysergic minutes of “Hyperventilation”) and drone interludes (“Records”). Slowness and repetition are the keys to it all, setting up and multiplying the guitar sounds in circular successions in search of transcendence. Brian Jonestown Massacre start out from shoegaze, much like Catherine Wheel did on “Ferment” (Fontana, 1992), before arriving at less immediate, more formally multifaceted forms. Both albums, though, remain twin cornerstones of shoegaze. (Maria Teresa Soldani)

BRIGHT CHANNEL – Bright Channel (Flight Approved, 2004)

Recorded in a week under the guidance of Steve Albini, the self-titled debut by Bright Channel (from Denver, Colorado) is one of the finest examples of the fusion between shoegaze, noise-rock and post-punk, a record in which the first genre's acidic, hazy textures, the second's catastrophic outbursts and the third's stentorian rhythmic geometries combine to produce tracks as granite-solid as they are charged with pathos. The trio of Jeff Suthers (vocals and guitar), Shannon Stein (bass) and Brian Banks (drums) charges out of the gate with the extremely noisy weave of “Final Stetch”, pierced by shrieking highs and the guitar's malevolent broadsides. The powerful, dry production by the former Big Black man does its part to make the experience even more thrilling, between martial cadences and distortion let loose (“Vehicle”, “Boiler”), bittersweet ballads that drag between listlessness and resignation (“Ricochet”, “Reckoning”), epic transfigurations of urban life (“Motion Building”), shimmering guitars that seem to slide into the tunnel of melancholy (“New Observation”), drone-mode codas (“Ice Field”) and oblique echoes of early U2 (“Light Workers”). As “Witness”, one of the best tracks here, demonstrates, Bright Channel's music is constantly poised between hallucinated ecstasy and feverish explosiveness. (Francesco Nunziata)

CHAPTERHOUSE – Whirlpool (Dedicated, 1991)

The brief story of Chapterhouse begins in 1987, in Reading, when five English lads realized the wind was changing direction, and guitars were about to reclaim a privileged role after a decade of synthesized plasticity. Released on April 29, 1991 (so several months before “Loveless”, which only reached stores on November 4 of the same year), their debut album, “Whirlpool”, was one of the records that helped establish shoegaze's stylistic coordinates, even though it had to settle for just three weeks on the UK charts, peaking at number 23 (though “Loveless” had to make do with number 24, even if over time it would certainly go on to sell more). Chapterhouse borrow a few rhythmic beats from the contemporary Madchester scene (“Falling Down” is pure pop explosiveness, with a wah-wah riff that anticipates U2's “Mysterious Ways”), blending them with pop melodies and heavily effected guitars. While steering clear of My Bloody Valentine's hyper-productive obsessiveness, they display the characteristic shoegaze “whirlpools”, especially on “Treasure” and “Guilt”, one of the tracks that helped codify the genre's aesthetic. Across the ten tracks of “Whirlpool” there's grandeur (“April”), experimentation (“Autosleeper” is the most structured piece), and, adding further prestige, the presence of Rachel Goswell of Slowdive, a guest on “Pearl”. The 2006 expanded edition, released by Cherry Red, includes seven bonus tracks drawn from the “Freefall”, “Sunburst” and “Pearl” EPs, among which the powerful charge of “Need” and an “Inside Of Me” that sounds remarkably close to Sonic Youth's “Goo” era stand out. It would be followed, in 1993, by “Blood Music”, which failed to chart and already represented the English quintet's swan song; the band would only resurface for a couple of celebratory compilations (“Rownderbowt” in 1996, “The Best Of Chapterhouse” in 2007) and a brief reunion arranged for a handful of nostalgic live appearances. (Claudio Lancia)

THE CHARLOTTES – Things Come Apart (Cherry Red, 1991)

Having been in the good graces of the great John Peel is certainly a fine calling card. At the time (we're at the end of the Eighties), the English band the Charlottes had just released their debut album, “LoveHappy”, poised between noise-pop and twee-pop, and the famous DJ doted on them accordingly. Yet it would be with the follow-up, “Things Come Apart”, that the Huntingdon quartet would reach the peak of their creativity, also earning themselves a place among shoegaze devotees thanks to a handful of tracks less abrasive than those on the previous record and marked by an enviably strong melodic instinct. With Graham Gargiulo's guitar taking center stage, its buzzing riffs and torrential eruptions (with flashes of lysergic chaos on “Liar”), the rhythm section locked into an almost incessant hammering (David Fletcher on bass and Simon Scott on drums), and Petra Roddis's voice fluttering candidly through its bittersweet snapshots, “Things Come Apart” stands as one of the most engaging and relatively catchy shoegaze records of the early era, capable of solemn ballads like “Prayer Song”, feverish punk'n'roll'n'gaze surges (“See Me Feel”, “Beautify”, “Love In The Emptiness”), and scorching or “windswept” assaults on rock's citadel (“Mad Girls Love Song”, “Blue”). “We're Going Wrong”, with its dissonant discharges and dreamlike languor, comes closest to the My Bloody Valentine blueprint. Across the more than nine minutes of “By My Side”, the band instead plays the card of psychedelic flight, thunderous and delicate at once. To close, even the Shocking Blue classic “Venus” is flattened by the noisy, enveloping assault of a band that thoroughly deserves rediscovery. (Francesco Nunziata)

COLFAX ABBEY – Drop (Prospective, 1996)

The Minneapolis-born quintet Colfax Abbey were responsible for one of the most interesting adventures in American shoegaze, thanks to a sound that, alongside the codified overseas genre, added hefty doses of dream-pop and a not inconsiderable space-rock flair, as made clear from the very first seconds of "Feel", the opening track of this 1996 debut. But the whole record is a constant chase between distant vocals, electric swells (the ones in "Shy Away" verge on droney ecstasy) and cosmic vanishing points that in "Chamaleon" converge into melancholy "pop" elegance. The melodic talent of the band led by singer-guitarist Christian Rangel is undeniable, brought out by hypnotic constructions like "Once In Awhile", by celestial-sphere anthems ("Silver") and by epic reworkings of certain new wave textures more inclined toward ecstatic surrender ("Snowshine"). The most experimental tracks are the final two: "On The Edge Of A Heathery Moor" (which relies on tribal percussion and a heavily impressionist sonic palette) and "Shanesong", whose psychedelic, cosmic textures progressively unravel, while Rangel's voice increasingly resembles the indistinct wail of some strange creature, half alien, half robot. (Francesco Nunziata)

CURVE – Doppelgänger (Anxious, 1992)

A drum machine backed when needed by a real drum kit, the ethereal atmospheres of dream-pop and the guitar layering so dear to shoegaze: this is the musical formula of London's Curve, the duo made up of singer Toni Halliday (a gothic-tinged Liz Fraser) and programmer/multi-instrumentalist Dean Garcia. Around her vocalizing and his danceable rhythms (a synthesis already well showcased in the opening one-two of "Already Yours" and "Horror Head") the whole trajectory of "Doppelgänger" unfolds, their debut album enhanced by the meticulous production of two masters, Flood and Alan Moulder. Aiming for catchiness while still refusing to settle for obvious solutions, the pair (here backed by no fewer than three guitarists and a drummer) craft songs in which the dreamlike dimension sometimes prevails over the drum machine's mechanical lines (the title track, "Split Into Fractions" and, essentially, the sprawling ballad "Sandpit" too), sometimes holds an unstable balance with them, yielding results that in some cases are even more evocative ("Lillies Dying", "Think And Act", "Faît Accompli"), and at other times steps back to make room for noisy guitars redolent of Jesus and Mary Chain ("Ice That Melts the Tips"). Like the shoegaze album Eurythmics never made (Garcia was in fact the bassist who played in Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart's band during their 1983/84 live shows), "Doppelgänger" is one of those records in which both body and soul are engaged at full throttle. (Francesco Nunziata)

DOU WEI & E – Huan ting / 幻听 (Zhong-Xin Yinxiang Chuban She, 1999)

Dou Wei (窦唯) is one of the most important names in Chinese rock. Leader of Hei Bao (黑豹) from 1988 to 1991, and later a solo artist while also acting as the guiding hand behind the records of his wife, pop star Faye Wong (王菲), he has ventured into wildly different territories: from heavy metal to chart pop, by way of alternative rock, trip-hop, ambient and film scores. His most important legacy probably lies in his first two solo albums: "Hei meng" ("黑梦", 1994), a generational manifesto in the name of a sui generis art rock spanning influences from gothic rock to reggae, and "Yan yang tian" ("艳阳天"), a masterpiece straddling dream-pop and singer-songwriter fare. In an article on shoegaze, however, it is "幻听" ("Huan ting", "Auditory Hallucinations") that stands out as the record to point to. It's the debut of the Dou Wei & E project (窦唯·谜), in which he's backed by a guitar-bass-drums trio. Several tracks on the album could indeed be filed under dream-pop too, and perhaps primarily so, yet whenever the distortion pedal digs in, the results are too sharp-edged to fit comfortably in that category, which is what justifies the shoegaze label: think in particular of "Na ne" ("哪呢"), "Dang kong shan" ("空山") or the chorus of the title track. Originally released in China in October 1999, the album was reissued in September 2001 for the Taiwanese market, with a completely different cover. (Federico Romagnoli)

DROP NINETEENS – Delaware (Caroline, 1992)

Drop Nineteens crafted an American variation on shoegaze, shot through with dream, noise and emo shades, on an album that would not have looked out of place in the Sarah Records catalogue. The band formed in Boston, the city of Pixies and Dinosaur Jr., and became Caroline Records' flagship act alongside Smashing Pumpkins, who had debuted in 1991 with "Gish". "Delaware" is an album made of vignettes: soft noise ballads ("Ease It Halen"), shoegaze impressions ("Kick the Tragedy", "Angel"), fragile twee songs ("Baby Wonder's Gone", "My Aquarium"), alt-rock scrapes à la Throwing Muses ("Happen") and post-hardcore clouds ("Reberrymemberer"). Besides the opening track "Delaware", a perfect synthesis of dream-noise-emo, "Winona" and the closing "(Plus Fish Dream)" also stand out, straddling shoegaze and noise-pop. Nothing especially original, and yet "Delaware" gives back to us the incompleteness, emotionality and vitality of a lost age. The album found more success in the UK than in the US, where at the time grunge, alternative rock, post-hardcore and post-rock were sweeping through both the mainstream and the underground. Wrong time, wrong place: Drop Nineteens dissolved into obscurity two years after their debut, on an out-of-sync arc similar to that of Slowdive, who released "Souvlaki" (Creation, 1993) just as the Britpop explosion of Blur and Oasis was taking over. (Maria Teresa Soldani)

ECSTASY OF ST. THERESA – Susurrate (Reflex, 1992)

At a certain point, word of shoegaze reached Prague too, and a number of budding musicians went mad for that sound, at once distorted and angelic. Guitarist, singer and sound designer Jan Muchow was among those who pinned a poster of Kevin Shields to his bedroom wall. Gathering a few friends together, he launched the project Ecstasy Of St. Theresa, going on to record "Pigment", a four-track EP built on a hybrid of shoegaze and post-punk, reaching its emotional peak in the searing, deafening "Honeyrain". After hearing "Loveless", the band's sound moved more clearly into the territory where My Bloody Valentine had already established themselves as the undisputed greatest. So, as Czechoslovakia edged ever closer to dissolution, Ecstasy Of St. Theresa borrowed Marshall amps from the Prague Music Center and recorded, with sound engineer Colin Stuart (evidently intrigued by the passion the ever-present John Peel had for these Prague kids), their first LP, "Susurrate", graced by the voice of Kateřina Winterová, who by then was already active as an actress too. While tracks like "Pistacchio Places" and "Seven" still show some post-punk residue (the former sounds like early Swans filtered through the aesthetic of "Isn't Anything"; the latter instead takes the shape of a pagan ritual in the orbit of Virgin Prunes), the gorgeous "Swoony" (one of shoegaze's greatest masterpieces, as far as I'm concerned) plunges entirely into hallucinated fog charged with metaphysical tension, with the guitars in droning ecstasy guiding a slow, desperate, symphonically-tinged ascent. After the mechanical noise (think of Neu!'s "Cassetto" played by an industrial band) with the whispered liturgy of "To Alison", "Ice Cream Star" launches into a spatial progression, before everything rears up into deafening, distorted magniloquence. Hot on its heels comes "Sweetabyss", with its hyperkinetic accelerations and its guitar din calling to mind runaway bells in the hands of hordes of sonic children. In "Thorn in Y'r Grip", the band instead alternates a possessed pow-wow with reflective oases. The long coda of "Absinth", with its incendiary distortion, out-of-control feedback and subterranean eruptions, is their tribute to Chaos. (Francesco Nunziata)

FLYING SAUCER ATTACK – Flying Saucer Attack (VHF, 1993)

A project launched in 1992 by England's David Pearce and his partner Rachel Brook, Flying Saucer Attack played what Pearce himself dubbed "rural psychedelia": in practice a mix of psychedelia, shoegaze, space-rock, traces of kraut-rock and New Zealand-style lo-fi indie. The self-titled 1993 debut is already a mature record, built on a "deranged" synthesis between the cosmic ritualism of "In Den Gärten Pharaos" (the two parts of "Popol Vuh", but also "Moonset", an arcane ritual for percussion, drones and free-jazz clarinet captured who-knows-where in deepest space) and the guitar layering (read: impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback) of My Bloody Valentine, who sought that same surplus of sensory stimulation, through a kind of celestial cacophony, to reach sonic ecstasy ("Make Me Dream", "A Silent Tide", "The Drowners", the latter a cover of a Suede song). The sweet melodies of "My Dreaming Hill" and "Wish", on the other hand, bring to mind Jesus And Mary Chain reworking a Velvet Underground ballad, though, as with the latter track, they're not above shooting straight for the stars, letting the guitars explode into a blinding shower of asteroids, or forcing them into radioactive serpentine coils. To close, the psych-folk ballad "The Season Is Ours" finally leads us into a mysterious forest of the Spirit. (Francesco Nunziata)

FURRY THINGS – The Big Saturday Illusion (Trance Syndicate, 1996)

Discovered by King Coffey, the legendary drummer of the Butthole Surfers, Texas's Furry Things earned themselves a front-row seat among the leading names of American shoegaze with this fine debut, which Coffey himself insisted on stamping firmly with the logo of his label, Trance Syndicate. Marked by a solid psychedelic streak, often filtered through garage-rock stylings, "The Big Saturday Illusion" is an ambitious record in its own way, yet never self-indulgent, because Ken Gibson (the band's chief songwriter, as well as singer, drummer, guitarist, pianist and organist) knows how to hold a steady course even during its most sprawling moments. After "Introism" (an almost entirely instrumental opener dominated by feedback and a sense of floating in mid-air, immersed in a space-time bubble), the record heads straight for a synthesis of relatively harder-edged sounds and a more treacherous haze of guitars ("Still California"), before immediately making room for one of the album's most experimental moments, "Cats", built by tinkering with a slowed-down or sped-up tape (mimicking a cat's wailing...), a straight groove and dreamy guitar arpeggios. Essentially, every track tells its own story, proving Furry Things' determination never to repeat themselves.

If, then, "Colortime", despite its floating distortions and a brief flute solo, is to be read as a tribute to rock'n'roll, the obsessive layering of "Attic" directly summons My Bloody Valentine, whereas "Lawnmower Sounds" is a noise-drone nightmare in which every instrument sounds as though filtered through a washing machine. Between experimentation and abstraction (the quasi-industrial hypnotism of "Porno Queen's Love Dive", the ambient of "Angel Warm and Cold", shot through with sinister omens and metaphysical nightmares), between epic choruses that send lysergic ballads soaring ("Take You Away") and a tightrope walk between dream-pop swoon, Stereolab-like mirages and noisy discharges ("Piled High"), the album reaches the home stretch with just the right amount of swagger, closing in style with the sixteen minutes of "Nothing From Zero", whose martial overture also carries echoes of kraut-rock. After a breathless sprint, the track scatters into the darkest corners of the universe, leaving behind a trail of tortured strings and sonic riddles. And when everything seems over, along comes a rebirth powered by a crackling organ, distorted vocalizing and a post-apocalyptic mood of jubilation. What madmen, these Texans! (Francesco Nunziata)

GRAZHDANSKAYA OBORONA – Solntsevorot/ Солнцеворот (HOR, 1997)

Grazhdanskaya Oborona (Гражданская

Oborona, meaning Civil Defence) was one of the historic projects of Russian rock. Over the course of its existence it was, at times, a full-fledged band, and at others simply the name Yegor Letov (Egor Letov) used to release part of his output. OndaRock already covered Letov four years ago, on the occasion of the reissue of his best-known album, "Russkoe pole eksperimentov" ("Russkoye pole eksperimentov"), whose review is worth reading for an introduction to the man. In an article specifically about shoegaze, however, the focus should shift to another record, one belonging to the post-Soviet phase, with Letov finally free of threats and constraints. Although only released in the spring of 1997, "Solntsevorot" ("Solstice") was recorded during 1995, in Letov's apartment in Omsk. Not without difficulties, since the neighbours complained constantly about the noise. Later on Letov would use more professional means, but at the time, on one hand his financial resources were still limited (the concerts in front of thousands of people would come only later), and on the other it was hard to shake off the home-recording approach he'd used throughout the Eighties to avoid trouble with the authorities. The album is perhaps the best he recorded after the fall of the USSR, and despite having the same saturated guitar grain that has always characterised Letov's work, it shows a more carefully layered sound than his older productions: enough to shift the coordinates from noise-rock and hardcore punk towards shoegaze and garage rock, with the melodies also gaining more prominence, never so immediately catchy. (Federico Romagnoli)

HELEN – The Original Faces (Kranky, 2015)

Before putting the Grouper project on hiatus and continuing under the moniker Nivhek, Liz Harris released this shoegaze record, suspended between dream-pop and noise, as glacial as the wind that beats down on the North Pacific coast. Joining her are Scott Simmons and Jed Binderman (Eternal Tapestry). As fragile, minimal and concrete as her contemporaneous work under the Grouper name, "Ruins" (Kranky, 2014), is, just as powerful, thunderous and evanescent is "The Original Faces", almost as if the souls stirring within Harris on previous albums needed to split off and find independent expression. Everything is processed, distorted, reverberated. The album opens with "Ryder", with an out-of-tune, frayed intro, where an unsettling dreamy spell is immediately shattered by a granite-hard rhythm section, as if the most crooked My Bloody Valentine had been called in to soundtrack an episode of Twin Peaks (1990-2017) by David Lynch and Mark Frost. The shoe-surf-rock of "Allison", suspended between the Sixties and the Nineties, is superb, the noise-pop of "City Breathing" is delightful, while "Dying All the Time" is the album's shoegaze quintessence, between cymbal-heavy drum patterns, Harris's synths and a bassline that keeps propelling the track forward. The whole album (re)sounds as though it came from somewhere far away, filtered through space, time, emotion and emptiness, giving back — as in the ending of "Felt This Way" — even the pauses, the interference, the tears, as if these too were part of a whole. (Maria Teresa Soldani)

LEVITATION – Need For Not (Rough Trade, 1992)

Active for just four years, London's Levitation recorded two unjustly overlooked LPs. It's the first of the two in particular, 1992's "Need For Not", that deserves the title of shoegaze underground cult classic. Led by ex-House Of Love man Terry Bickers, the quintet builds, on their debut, a towering, mighty shoegaze sound. In "Need For Not" there's little room for immersive hazes and gentle reverb. With the exception of the psychedelic ballad "Smile", the remaining eight tracks are an impetuous succession of violent walls of noise. The noise brutality of the record makes itself felt right away thanks to tracks like "Against Nature" and "Hangnail", placed at the start of the tracklist as a kind of warning. The Levitation aren't just muscle, though: in the more relaxed moments of the songs, echoes of dream-pop shine through, as in "Arcs Of Light And Dew", where amid the dew one can glimpse the auras of Cocteau Twins and Chameleons. Also striking is the choice to embellish several of the songs with baroque details, like harpsichord chimes or shrieking strings, which, together with the never-simple structures of the tracks, reveal the band's prog heritage. (Michele Corrado)

LILYS – In The Presence Of Nothing (Slumberland, 1992)

For Kurt Heasley, My Bloody Valentine were a reason for living. His love for Kevin Shields's band dated back to 1988, the year the guitarist and singer from Washington, D.C. began making music under the alias Lilys, trying precisely to emulate his idols. After three years of tough apprenticeship and a constant revolving door of collaborators, Heasley finally managed to put his name on a record for the first time: the single "February Fourteenth", deeply influenced by those sounds whose echo arrived, clear and imperious, from Ireland's eastern coast. A few months later, backed by musicians already active in other bands (including guitarist Archie Moore and drummers Harold "Bear" Evans and Mike Hammel), Heasley would record "In The Presence Of Nothing", an album in which the fusion of ecstatic melodies and whirlwinds of noise is thoroughly impressive. Amid the suffocated textures of "There's No Such Thing As Black Orchids" and the propulsive ones of "Claire Hates Me", there's room for the droning-ballad "Elizabeth Colour Wheel", a "Collider" that shows both faces of shoegaze (the soft one and the rough one, the latter sharpened with even more aggressive guitars on "Tone Bender"), the punk-gaze flight of the instrumental "Periscope", the dream-pop of tremolo guitars and crossed vocal harmonies on "It Does Nothing for Me", the noisy eddies that repeatedly tear through the folk-ballad "Snowblinder", and the twelve minutes of "The Way Snowflakes Fall", whose job is to ferry shoegaze into an enigmatic tribal-ambient realm. (Francesco Nunziata)

LOVESLIESCRUSHING – Xuvetyn (Projekt, 1996)

Pioneers of American shoegaze, Lovesliescrushing formed in 1991 in East Lansing, Michigan, when guitarist Scott Cortez and singer Melissa Arpin-Duimstra began experimenting with sound in search of a balance between the shoegaze of My Bloody Valentine, the dream-pop of Cocteau Twins, the ambient of Brian Eno and some of the most evocative pages of contemporary classical music (György Ligeti, Arvo Pärt, Henryk Górecki). After releasing a less-than-thrilling "Bloweyelashwish" (1993), the duo reached the peak of their creativity with the follow-up "Xuvetyn", a work that showed Cortez's great ability to transform (aided by a vast arsenal of pedals and effects) the sound of the guitar into blinding, metaphysical frescoes, within which Arpin-Duimstra's voice, itself filtered, traces the boundaries of dreams that conceal the traces of a myriad of other, exploded dreams. The opening "Valerian (Her Voice Honeyed)" is already a fitting manifesto of their art, but the first true masterstroke is "Mandragora Louvareen", in which there emerges, crystal clear, the enchantment of music born at the height of a clash between the spectral breath of dying angels and the noisy oscillations of far-off galaxies — oscillations that, when they stretch out into boundless surrender, take on symphonic tones (listen, for instance, to "Xarella Almandyne"), elsewhere expressed with cosmic flair ("Milkysoft", "Luma (Weblike And Crescent)") or with mystical shadings, as if Cocteau Twins had turned to sacred music ("Blooded And Blossom-Blown", "Flowered Smother", "Mother Of Pearl"). In "Virgin Blue-Eyed", whispers become echoes that become whispers, and tireless, minimalist bells drag along a music-box melody behind them. "Bones Of Angels" oscillates endlessly between the temptation of stillness and the desire for annihilation. "Seesaw", with its distortions like sidereal swells, condenses in a little over a minute all the love for "Bloody Valentine". Then, ever more rarefied and elusive, the two carve out the beautiful "Silver (Fairy-Threaded)", which moves from a moving liturgy of solitude towards a harsh-noise climax, before casting one last, timid and desperate glance towards Silence. Another peak is "Golden-Handed", worthy of the most dazzling pages of Black Tape For A Blue Girl, the project launched in the early Eighties by Sam Rosenthal, who, as it happens, is also the head of Projekt, the label that allowed "Xuvetyn" to see the light of day. (Francesco Nunziata)

LUCYBELL – Lucybell (EMI, 1998)

A historic act on the Chilean alternative rock scene, still active today (their latest album, "Mil caminos", came out just last year), with this self-titled album released in 1998, they perfect the formula already presented on "Peces" and "Viajar" and deliver the most intense, vibrant, courageous portrait of the Santiago quartet, captured just before the departure of two of its original members (keyboardist Gabriel Vigliensoni and bassist Marcelo Muñoz). More romantic, experimental and off-centre (with several moments running past the six-minute mark), the Chileans' red album doesn't sacrifice the distinctly rock-oriented traits of their sound, but suspends them within far more hypnotic, diluted flows, much more steeped in shoegaze codes than in the past, with a peculiar knack for electronics that, from the trip-hop evolutions of "Viajar", here even takes unprecedented turns genuinely close to drum'n'bass (the rhythmic themes that introduce the drums before the chorus of the long, sweeping "Intento no marearme"). Between the slow flotations of "Flotar es caer", a downtempo track updated to the multifaceted language of the mighty Soda Stereo (and there's something of Gustavo Cerati in Claudio Valenzuela's most emotional deliveries), and the ups and downs of the à-la Ride colourings of "Dame calma", passing through more soaring episodes like the propulsive "Caballos de histeria" and the gothic-tinged theme of "Sólo soy un adicto", all distortion and shifting scenes, the band pens its most intense and visceral songbook, pushing their exploration right to the breaking point, a moment before synthesizers and glitches take over and the Lucybell sound is completely overturned. An extraordinary swan song, for one of the records that best managed to channel shoegaze's potential into a broader, bolder framework. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

LUSH – Gala (4AD, 1990)

The first incarnation of Lush appeared on the London scene in 1987 under the name Baby Machine, and was influenced by many different things: Cocteau Twins, garage-rock, post-punk and Sixties pop. Failing to catch the attention of industry insiders, Baby Machine soon gave way to Lush, whose line-up revolved around the singer-guitarist duo of Miki Berenyi and Emma Anderson. After signing to the prestigious 4AD, the band recorded (with Chris Acland on drums and Steve Rippon on bass) a trio of releases (the mini-album "Scar" and the EPs "Mad Love" and "Sweetness And Light") that received excellent critical response, thanks to their skilful blend of shoegaze and dream-pop, with more than a hint of post-punk between the lines. In an attempt to break into the American and Japanese markets, in 1990 4AD decided to collect this material on the compilation "Gala", which also added a cover of an ABBA song ("Hey, Hey Helen") and a slightly longer version of "Scarlet" (already featured on "Scar"), originally recorded for a compilation put together by Melody Maker. The result is three quarters of an hour of music alternating between more ethereal moments, where the echo of Cocteau Twins can be heard ("Sweetness And Light", "Sunbathing", "Thoughtforms", "Scarlet", "Etheriel"), and others (in greater number) that are comparatively sturdier and, when needed, marked by a catchy streak ("Breeze", "De-Luxe", "Second Sight") or a noisier approach ("Leaves Me Cold", "Downer", "Baby Talk") that, on "Bitter", spills over into a garage-pop stampede. (Francesco Nunziata)

MEDICINE – Shot Forth Self Living (Def American, 1992)

The brainchild of Brad Laner, former drummer of Savage Republic, Medicine formed in 1990 in Los Angeles, and with "Shot Forth Self Living" made their full-length debut, immediately grabbing the attention of the most discerning listeners thanks to compositions that were catchy in their melodic underpinnings, but also clever in their ability to try out anything-but-obvious solutions, starting with "One More", carried by a guitar that sounds like a shrieking siren, one that keeps evoking Lou Reed's "Metal Machine Music" as reimagined by Jesus and Mary Chain. The result is the epitome of their shoegaze-noise-pop. Rather than simply disturbing/burying sweet melodies under more or less oppressive blankets of feedback (among the comparatively more straightforward tracks are "Defective", "A Short Happy Life" and "Miss Drugstore"), Laner (vocals, guitar, piano and percussion) and co. (Jim Goodall on drums, Jim Putnam on guitar and electronics, Eddie Ruscha on bass and tapes, and Beth Thompson on vocals) also have fun with anarchic noise-making ("Aruca"), work through more psychedelic numbers ("5ive", essentially Boo Radleys catapulted straight into Paisley Underground territory), chew on funky grooves ("Sweet Explosion"), push an oblique dirge towards a broken-down psycho-industrial machine ("Queen Of Tension"), before finally bowing out with the grandiose "The Christmas Song", in which shoegaze aims straight for the stars, leaving behind a trail of doom fumes. (Francesco Nunziata)

THE MEETING PLACES – Find Yourself Along The Way (Words On Music, 2003)

Los Angeles, September 2001. Four friends (Scott McDonald, guitar; Chase Harris, vocals, guitar; Dean Yoshihara, drums; Arthur Chan, bass) decide it's time to put their shared musical passions to good use, forming The Meeting Places. A couple of years are more than enough to cut their teeth through rehearsals, a handful of gigs around town, and the writing of their first songs, destined to end up on "Find Yourself Along The Way", their debut album released in 2003 by Words On Music. The result is a treasure, because the formula (shoegaze + dream-pop + singer-songwriter touches drawing on the most atmospheric strands of Americana) turns into a run of tracks with a real impact. Entrusted to "Freeze Our Stares", the opening offers a lush ballad that, evoking visions of Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine, lets itself be rocked by guitars in a state of perpetual droning flotation — the same guitars that will resurface to underpin the more driving rhythms and the catchy streak, tasting of Jesus and Mary Chain without the darkness, of "On Our Own". That same streak will be partly picked back up in "Blur The Line", a track that, looking back today, we might describe as one of the possible early sketches of the ecstatic surges of War On Drugs. The band plays with real feeling and without ever overdoing it, guided by Harris's magnetic voice through the delicate psych-folk weaves of "See Through You" and "Turned Over", moving confidently through the more spirited ones of "Wide Awake" (nonetheless ready to soar into shoegaze apotheosis, which becomes wondrous spatial poetry on the gorgeous "Same Lies As Yesterday") and the stately ones of "Where You Go". And while the dreamlike boogie of "Now I Know" could be read as their own very personal tribute to the Velvet Underground's "I'm Waiting for the Man", "Take To The Sun" ultimately proves that The Meeting Places are just as at ease with more abstract compositions. (Francesco Nunziata)

MY VITRIOL – Finelines (Infectious, 2001)

Emerging like a meteor in 2001 from a very young Anglo-Indian band formed at college in London, who after three years of touring would temporarily abandon their music career to finish university. My Vitriol's nu-gaze is a jolt of romanticism and adrenaline, with huge guitars à-la Trail of Dead over vigorous rhythms and Som Wardner's soft vocals. The dreamy intro of "Alpha Waves" paves the way for the dazzling "Always Your Way", a passionate anthem straddling shoegaze and emo. It's an album of exceptional strength, a child of that 90s decade that seems “nominally” referenced in "The Gentle Art Of Choking", the quintessence of sensitivity and energy. Sixteen tracks that leave their mark, alternating fullness and emptiness with suspended bridges ("Infantile"). The band's message is clear: you have to let it all out, spray it across the kick and snare, crank up the amps and saturate the guitars until you find yourself “fleeing while standing still” (“Conscience is my greatest curse/ The fridge is full of just deserts/ Fall into all your avenues/ And I’m falling at your feet/ And I’m crawling at your feet” – "Cemented Shoes"). With an improbable Tokio Hotel look – who would soon commit their own outrage against the word “emo” – on "Finelines", My Vitriol carry out a genuine open-heart operation for lovers of shoegaze and its early-millennium rebirth. (Maria Teresa Soldani)

SERENA MANEESH – Serena-Maneesh (HoneyMilk, 2005)

One of the most fascinating names in shoegaze during the first decade of the new millennium were without doubt Serena Maneesh, led by singer and multi-instrumentalist Emil Nikolaisen. What set the Norwegian band apart from the usual revival of the sound that My Bloody Valentine and co. had taken to such heights between the late Eighties and early Nineties was their ability to blend it with all sorts of other influences. So while the track that opens the curtain on this self-titled debut sits halfway between Jesus and Mary Chain and the hypnotic pulse of the “Velvet Underground”, “Selina's Melodie Fountain” is anchored to a geometric rhythmic pattern that points directly to the most danceable new wave, constantly destabilized by noisy blasts and lysergic geysers. The same treatment is given to the sunshine-pop of “Un-Deux” and “Sapphire Eyes”, with the latter also taking on kraut-rock airs thanks to the involvement of Stereolab. A syncopated groove runs through the spatial weave of “Candlelighted”, a mutant strain of psychedelic garage-rock materializes in “Beehiver II”, while “Don't Come Down Here” strums out nostalgia with a nod to Pink Floyd too, before derailing into sonic torment. And if “Her Name Is Suicide” is their take on dream-pop and “Chorale Lick” declares itself still a child of “Psychocandy”, albeit with more warlike intentions, the final twelve minutes of “Your Blood In Mine” represent the triumph of their psychedelic art, moving through exotic settings that mimic the darkest recesses of the soul, tribal-like crescendos worthy of Can jamming with Clipd Beaks while a saxophonist digs into free-jazz, before finishing with a coda for solo piano. (Francesco Nunziata)

SOUTHPACIFIC – Constance (Turnbuckle, 2000)

It's an instrumental triumph, made of open spaces and sidereal expanses, of feedback and vibrant guitar motifs, that accompanies us through the hour-long “Constance”, the only album released by this Canadian trio. With the exception of “Built To Last”, a suave psych slow-jam with early My Bloody Valentine in its rearview mirror, human voice is entirely absent throughout an hour of contemplations that always stay true to the tenets of shoegaze, while hybridizing it with generous doses of space-rock (in the manner of the best Flying Saucer Attack) and sweet psychedelic allusions, without shying away from curious electronic detours either. That's more than enough for the band to sketch out cosmic outlines in search of the unfathomed (“Analogue 9”), hint at acoustic caresses as evening falls (“A Better Life Since”), and unleash intense rides traced by tremolo and subterranean bass grooves that, in the manner of Furry Things, you wish would never end (“Stay Ahead, Far Behind”). In between, there's plenty of room for contemplations bordering on ambient (“Pintail Gate”), gazes fixed on the sky but with rhythm firmly rooted on the ground (“Instrumental”), loops that crumple and reassemble, yet come out more intense and shoegaze-y than ever (“Instrumental”). A precious, luminous one-shot from a band that recently returned with new material (the single “Depths”, more dream-pop and placid, released just last year), but one that even in its original phase knew how to express itself with absolute clarity. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

STARFLYER 59 – Starflyer 59 [Silver] (Tooth & Nail, 1994)

Take a healthy dose of British shoegaze, a pinch of dream-pop, and the craggy, metallic distortions of grunge (the most “Sabbath-esque” kind, that is). Shake it all up for a few seconds and you get the sound of Starflyer 59, a project launched in 1993 by Californian singer-songwriter, guitarist and, when needed, drummer Jason Martin. The full-length debut, with its silver cover ("Silver" being the name by which it's known among fans), featuring bassist Andrew Larson and drummer Dan Reid, and closing out the liner notes with the announcement "Starflyer exclusively rides triumph motor bikes", arrived in 1994 and was praised for its compactness, made all the more striking by its fairly short runtime (34 minutes). Martin's ability to build songs in which “heavy” sounds coexist with diaphanous vocal lines and, when needed, effective doses of melody, is beyond question, and comes through best on tracks like “Blue Collar Love”, “Monterey” (which reveals, between the lines, a certain fondness for Smashing Pumpkins), the epic “Sled”, the visionary “2nd Space Song”, the languid “Droned”, and a “The Dungeon” that instead brings Soundgarden to mind. Tracks like “Hazel Would” and “Happy Days Are Here Again”, on the other hand, are marked by a dissonant, extremely noisy guitar bearing My Bloody Valentine's name stamped right onto its strings. And while “She Only Knows” is the track closest to dream-pop, the boisterous euphoria that “The Zenith” springs from even brings out power-pop influences. (Francesco Nunziata)

SWALLOW – Blow (4AD, 1992)

It was an extremely brief arc for Swallow, the English duo made up of Mike Mason and Louise Trehy. Riding the golden age of shoegaze, they managed to land a deal with 4AD thanks to a demo sent to the label. They didn't have enough songs to fill an album, so they hastily put together everything needed to record “Blow”, taking their favorite bands as a model. “Blow”, which remained their only album, was released on July 20, 1992: eleven tracks devoted to the signature sound established by My Bloody Valentine – just listen to the opening “Lovesleep”, a title that pays homage to Kevin Shields' band, much like the very name chosen by the duo. “Tastes Like Honey”, meanwhile, is clearly inspired by Slowdive's “Alison”, another band that, alongside Cocteau Twins, shaped their way of playing. “Blow” flows in constant balance between shoegaze and dream-pop, culminating in the commanding “Cherry Stars Collide” and “Head In A Cave”, strategically placed at the end of the tracklist. The following September, Swallow released the intriguing companion piece “Blowback”, an experiment containing eight almost entirely instrumental alternate takes. Then came the label change, the move to Rough Trade, a further four-track EP, “Hush”, a tour with Mazzy Star, and preparations for a new album that never saw the light of day. Those songs, left as home demos, would only be released in 2009, digitally, on the posthumous “Soft”. Mike and Louise would then remain on the margins of the scene that mattered, one of the many shooting stars unable to withstand the overwhelming force of the britpop wave, which within a few months made the entire shoegaze scene feel prematurely outdated. (Claudio Lancia)

VELDT – Afrodisiac (Mercury, 1994)

In 1992, when Veldt recorded their first EP, “Marigolds”, it was very hard for a band made up three-quarters of Black musicians to win over a major label. At the time, in fact, every hot label was on the hunt for the next Living Colour, but the band from Raleigh, North Carolina, couldn't have cared less about following in the hard rock/funk/metal wake of Vernon Reid and co. What they had in mind was something else entirely: a fusion of British shoegaze, the alt-rock most in vogue at the time, and psychedelic soul. The band, put together by twins Daniel Chavis (vocals) and Danny Chavis (guitar), had already been cutting its teeth since 1986, playing in front of crowds big and small, which had allowed the quartet (rounded out by drummer Marvin Levi and “white” bassist David Burris) to steadily sharpen their technical skills, songwriting and interplay. In short, even if they weren't Living Colour, they knew what they were doing. So when they finally signed the contract offered to them by Mercury, it seemed like nothing less than fair reward after so much sacrifice. “Afrodisiac”, the title of their debut, quickly became a minor cult object, helped along by the decent underground reception of the single “Soul In A Jar” (which gave Jesus and Mary Chain the chance to deliver a remix full of industrial pulses and feedback), but also defined by driving, groove-laden songs (“(It's Over”), heartfelt anthems against misogyny (the splendid “Revolutionary Sister”), rough melodic detonations (“Dusty Blood”, “Last Call”), choruses that feel like dives into the enigmatic euphoria of nostalgia (“You Take The World”), and again, ballads wrapped in endless space (“Juicy Sandwich”, “I Couldn't Care Less”). But the whole tracklist deserves close attention, from the dramatic, pathos-laden romanticism of “Heather” (boasting the album's best guitar performance, embellished by guest saxophonist Arthur Phillips), to the instrumental “Outro (Shaved)”, passing through Cocteau Twins reimagined in the presence of Prince on “I Wanna Be Where You Are”, or used to unlock the Temptations' box of secrets (“Daisy Chain”), not forgetting – it would be a grave sin to! – that “Until You're Forever”, which sounds like a marriage made in heaven between the most rarefied My Bloody Valentine and the earliest U2, the “New Year's Day”-era ones. Between Daniel's soulful vocal tone and Danny's guitar phrasing (which moves seamlessly from shoegazer textures to the hard-rock detonations so dear to certain alt-rock of that era, repeatedly crossing paths too with the dreamlike shimmer of dream-pop), the design of an album takes shape that goes down in one breath, never wearing thin. (Francesco Nunziata)

WALRUS – Hikari No Kakera (Baidis, 2000)

Led by singer and guitarist Akitomo Tanaka, Walrus earned a cult following within the shoegaze scene above all for the eleven tracks on “Hikari No Kakera”, their fourth album, released more than twenty years ago now. To be precise, though, the Japanese band's approach to the sound that My Bloody Valentine took to unreachable heights is anything but orthodox, given its heavy contamination with space-, post- and alt-rock stylistic traits. The result, in any case, is one of great emotional impact, helped along by an epic feel that runs through all fifty-six-odd minutes of music. But let's take it in order. Walrus's story began in 1997, when Tanaka formed the band by bringing together fellow guitarist Atsushi Kobayashi, bassist Kaoru Miura and drummer Kenroh Wakasugi. With a contract signed with local label Baidis, the four recorded “Virus” and “Vaccine” the following year, two albums of sturdy alt-rock with a few prog leanings. “Seven” (1998) fared better, with a more pronounced and better-honed shoegaze weave. But they reached the peak of their creativity with the aforementioned “Hikari No Kakera”, which hit stores about a month before the start of the new millennium. As shown by the opening track, “Exit”, marked by torrential distortion, the band's sound had grown even noisier and more expansive, and if there were still any doubts, a few seconds of the title track are enough to dispel them, a gorgeous space/shoegaze ride accompanying Tanaka's fragile, distant voice as it grapples with a melodic line doing everything it can to withstand the force of an unstoppable wind. The ongoing tension between epic grandeur, melody and noise (both the psychedelic noise-rock kind and the “textural” shoegaze kind) is also the essence of stratospheric ballads such as “Toneriko”, “Tsuki” and “Wade”, all embellished with unforgettable choruses, as well as of “Dyed”, which closes the album on a note of deep melancholy. As for the rest, if “Matataki” gives off a sense of sweet desolation, “Nemuri” takes over the scene with its ecstatic shoegaze, though an ecstasy that sounds strangely exotic, as if palm trees caressed by the wind found themselves halfway between two peaks covered by brightly colored clouds. Then there's “Iro no aru Basho e”, which brings to mind Hawkwind reworked by Soundgarden, whereas “Spit” catapults the “Space Ritual” band right into the grooves of a Cows record. Before dissolving into silence, “Orange” literally shakes the walls with an acid-drenched noise-rock outburst. “Hikari No Kakera” is one of shoegaze's hidden gems. (Francesco Nunziata)

WHIPPING BOY – Submarine (Liquid, 1992) If shoegaze only brings to mind boundless spaces and blinding stretches of light, that's probably because you've never listened to Whipping Boy's superb debut, “Submarine”. You can already read about their milestone album “Heartworm”, the better-known and more cult record in their discography (as much as it makes sense to talk about popularity with such a niche band), but in a shoegaze feature, this first work is the one that truly deserves a mention. The shoegaze on this album is dark, claustrophobic, permanently on the verge of a nervous breakdown. For this reason, “Submarine” occupies a place all its own within the genre, representing one of its darkest variations. The repeated guitar lines seem to fold inward rather than seek release in an explosion. Forget ethereal, heavenly vocals: Fearghal McKee inherits the jagged vocal style of post-punk, not shying away from full-on screaming excursions. The opening one-two punch is explosive, while “Sushi” slows the pace, but only to scream more desperately. “Astronaut Blues” is the most rarefied moment, followed by the sweet melody of “Bettyclean”. But it's only a transition toward the icy landscapes of “Snow” and, above all, the title track, which closes the album amid dissonance and noise. Poor sales would lead to the band's breakup a few years later, but “Submarine” still speaks with such power today that its importance within shoegaze is beyond question. (Gioele Sforza)

WHIRR – Distressor (Graveface, 2012)

From 2010 onwards, shoegaze - whose vital energy had seemingly faded - went through a fruitful revival. It's in that exact scenario that American band Whirr emerged, releasing a demo that same year followed by "Distressor", their first proper full-length: a record that oscillates between noisy ambitions and the most stretched-out dream-pop, without ever fully giving in to either side. Whirr let nostalgic fumes and morbid catharsis drift through the air, with guitars smothering the vocals - almost always intelligible - in feedback and distortion. Some tracks work better than others. That's the case with "Leave", a gust of spleen straight to the face and a nu-gaze anthem, with "Child", echoing "Only Shallow" by My Bloody Valentine, with "Ghost" and the timeless languor of "Sandy". The rest of "Distressor", however, seems to get lost in melodies, reverbs and noise that are too homogeneous to leave a lasting impression - small emotional and sonic探索s that would be brought to fruition on the following records, "Pipe Dreams" and "Sway". (Giulia Quaranta)

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