The term “shoegaze” or “shoegazing” is just as amorphous an idea as the gauzy sound made by its long list of executors. Though meant to deride Brit bands such as Ride and Moose (yes, Moose) that stared at their footwear in a manner in which to not address their audiences, the vibe (or joke) soon became serious when it took on the feel of detached rumination (lyrically) and loud, echoing, distortion pedal-heavy affectation (sonically). Suddenly, what started as a little thing—say, Spacemen 3 living lysergically and mesmerizingly through stoic, spidery songs such as “Hypnotized”—grew bigger once the U.K. press turned its woeful wall of sound into a (real or imagined) group of doe-eyed depressives known as The Scene That Celebrates Itself.
“With a godlike glow” (to quote the House Of Love’s surprisingly sprightly “Christine”), each of the tracks—icy, foggy, eerily paced, speedy or usually slow—move with sinister intention. Or un-intention if distanced enough, say, in the case of the Jesus And Mary Chain’s “Rollercoaster,” Cranes’ spooky “Inescapable” and the Darkside’s “Waiting For The Angels.” There is a heaping helping of pre-shoe/early-shoe avatars such as Pale Saints, Cocteau Twins, A.R. Kane and Kitchens Of Distinction to go with the usual suspects of Rides and Lush-es.
Still, the set meanders to include lesser, black-lit essayers of the form such as Dr. Phibes & The House Of Wax Equations, whose “Sugarblast” is an aptly titled rush. Are Americans Bardo Pond and Flaming Lips “shoegaze” just because they flanged a bit? Could this label not get a recording from the ghoulish genre’s best known and most loved act, My Bloody Valentine, whose absence leaves a heart-sized hole? Maybe next box.
—A.D. Amorosi
