The Dublin
shoegaze greats My Bloody Valentine are one of a kind. They’re one of those
rare bands you have to really “get”
in order to fully appreciate them, because first time around, you’re usually
not prepared for the intense experience, which their trademark wall of sound is. As for seeing them
live – brace yourself: your life shall never be the same again.
I remember
listening (or rather trying to listen) to MBV’s seminal 1991 opus Loveless for the first time some four
years ago, being most perplexed. I was desperately trying to figure out what in
the world it was that earned the band (who were defunct for 18 years at the
time) and their leader Kevin Shields such a cult-like and legendary status.
Admittedly, I was then guilty of being distracted by the larger-than-life (and
oddly enough somewhat lo-fi at the same time) production, where
reverse-reverberated, fuzzy, swirly and just otherworldly guitars dominate the
frequency spectrum. This leaves everything else, including vocals, practically
buried in the mix, intertwining into a hazy texture of indistinguishable
multiple layer sound. Just this fact alone takes a while to get used to,
especially if you’ve grown up listening to music that’s in accordance with the
generally accepted aesthetic of non-instrumental contemporary music, where
everything is usually built around the vocal. Needless to say, I then concluded
that this was not my cup of tea and
wondered why was Loveless one of the
most expensive albums ever made, allegedly costing nearly 250 thousand pounds.
Flash forward
two years from then; I’m watching Sophia Coppola’s Lost in Translation (which had previously left me underwhelmed –
why yes, certain things take time) and suddenly a song comes on and… It’s Sometimes from Loveless! The rest is history, as they say: from then on, I was
hooked for life. When Kevin Shields announced a new album and a tour earlier
this year, everybody’s expectations went through the roof. Lucky for both him
and the fans, the expectations were surpassed and then some.
Entering the
venue on the night of the concert, I saw several people exchanging confused
looks when they were offered a free pair of earplugs at the door. To my
advantage, I’ve read numerous accounts from the late 80s and early 90s where
unprepared people had to literally run away due to MBV’s overwhelming stage
volume levels, which in some cases reportedly led to permanent eardrum damage.
Looking at the stage, one could indeed smell danger. Shields’ technicians have
set up 10 amplifiers, at least 8 speaker cabinets and a few dozens of effect
pedals and processors; little less than that could be seen at Bilinda Butcher’s
(rhythm guitarist and lead vocalist) side of the stage.
The opening
band, Rakovník’s Manon Meurt, was a pleasant surprise, not at all
Czech-sounding. However, in all of their songs, there didn’t seem to be
anything other than obvious tips of the hat to various 90s shoegaze icons
(Slowdive, Ride, Flying Saucer Attack), but their role was apparent: not to be
original but to prepare the audience for the sheer sonic brutality that MBV
are.
Trying to put MBV’s set into words – the phrase “life
changing experience” instantly comes to mind. From the first notes of I Only Said, it was crystal clear that
they still got “it” – they sound as fresh and unique as they did 22 years ago.
The set-list contained both crowd pleasers (When
You Sleep, Only Shallow, Soon etc.)
and numbers from the new album (New You,
Only Tomorrow, Who Sees You etc.), which blended with the classics
unexpectedly well. The songs that sound so meticulously produced on the record
don’t lose any of their magic live – they only come across infinitely more
urgent and tight while retaining their signature dreaminess.
As the show progressed,
the band just oozed energy, the intensity escalated to an incredible level,
along with stage volume. Although I’ve read about the “holocaust [sic]” section
in the middle of MBV’s usual set closer You
Made Me Realise, nothing could have possibly prepared me for the 130 dB
fierce showcase of power. For the first time ever, I felt that earplugs weren’t
enough; even the stage crew unanimously decided to put their protective
headphones on. Along with trippy projections, the colossal amount of feedback
and unpredictable patterns of rhythmic noise made for an experience that was
nothing short of psychedelic. With my eyes closed, I felt like I was swimming
in a dripping matter made of sound, strobe lights were playing tricks on my
sensory processing and the pleasantly rumbling low frequencies were vibrating
through my whole body. At that point, the band became the audience and the
audience became the band. The whole venue became a single entity, living and
breathing the moment, embracing the loudness as an indigenous deity.
When it was
over, I refused to believe what I’ve just gone through – I felt heavily
intoxicated but rest assured, it felt right and natural. Going home, I simply
had to smile. My Bloody Valentine had indeed made me realise why they are hailed as one of the most innovative
and important acts in the history of music. Do yourself a favour and give Loveless a listen. Chances are, you’ll
find yourself gazing at your shoes in no time.
