I am only tangentially familiar with miserable, rain-drenched Scottish post-punk band the Jesus and Mary Chain because (a) they were on the Lost in Translation soundtrack, (b) last year I wrote a dreampop article and many of the genre’s luminaries referenced Psychocandy, their debut album, and (c) a lot of my childhood favourites, like Trent Reznor, Robert Smith, and Thom Yorke, have spoken favourably about them at one time or another. So when I found myself with a rainy week at the end of April, I thought, why the hell not? It can’t be any worse than Screamadelica, which I had intended to review but found borderline unlistenable.
Indeed, Darklands isn’t worse than Screamadelica – after all, there are a couple of identifiable tunes on here, rather than trippy eight-minute-long drumbeats for scallies off their tits on acid in a carpark. But that’s a low bar indeed, and in my opinion, Darklands isn’t that great either, certainly not deserving of the cult-like status it is customarily accorded among the otherwise-discerning community of pseudo-goth post-punk weirdos who love bands like Joy Division and the Cure.
Supposedly, the Jesus and Mary Chain’s first album, 1985’s Psychocandy, changed the game because of its heavily reverbed wall-of-sound fuzziness. This was apparently intended to evoke a kind of dream-like etherealness, hence the central role that the album is usually accorded in the evolution of dreampop and shoegaze. Darklands, its successor, was intended as a more melodic and stripped-down record, designed to carry at least some potential for getting the band on the radio or in the charts.
This greater accessibility is sometimes evident in the form of sharper, neater tunes like “Darklands”, “Happy When It Rains” or “April Skies.” On the whole, though, most of the album sounds as narcotic and inchoate as its predecessor. The lion’s share of the songs bleed into each other in a single, reverb-heavy miasma of frazzled guitars and indistinct melodies, with the occasional “hit” thrown into the mix, perhaps to ensure that the listener hasn’t passed out.
And good luck trying to divine what Jim Reid is singing about – his voice inhabits the songs like a ghost, swirling in the background, as nebulous as any of Darkland’s other musical components. Of course, this was a conscious ploy, intended to enhance the Jesus and Mary Chain’s mystery – the spectral, barely intelligible vocals, hovering over the eerie music, a disembodied voice in the mix, like something from a dream or beyond the grave. Admittedly, it works well and it’s undeniably distinctive – it is unmistakeably the sound of the Jesus and Mary Chain. But whereas small doses of this concurrently abrasive and misty mien can be compelling (like when “Just Like Honey” turns up at the end of the Lost in Translation soundtrack), it starts to grate, even infuriate, when stretched over an entire album.
My sense of irritation was only elevated by the lyrical content. This essentially consists in incessant, almost indecently pathetic adolescent whining which, somehow, never really manages to sound authentically distressed. Robert Smith’s effete ache, Ian Curtis’ stoney croon, Morrissey’s self-pitying warble – all loaded with believable, if slightly tiresome, human suffering. But there’s something brattish, almost cocksure about the tone of Jim Reid’s voice that leaves me doubting the sincerity of lines such as “I get down on my knees and feel like I could die”, as if it’s all done with a wink and a nod, most probably with one eye on the band’s emerging and increasingly lucrative brand as po-faced Scottish killjoys.
I suppose, in the end, the Jesus and Mary Chain inhabited this role with much more aplomb than, say, characterless wet blankets like Travis or Snow Patrol. These were run-of-the-mill guitar-strumming indie saps compared to the authentically innovative Reid brothers and the feedback-drenched sound they pioneered, which indeed paved the way for fantastic records such as the Cocteau Twins’ Heaven or Las Vegas and Slowdive’s Souvalki. But, to me, the lack of tunes, of tangible songwriting chops, leaves me stalled at acknowledging the cultural and historical importance of Psychocandy and Darklands, rather than actually enjoying them.
Overall rating: * *
Standout track: “Happy When It Rains”