13th CD

Treasure. Four stars.

The Cocteau Twins are one of those flukes, a band out of time. Brought together in the late seventies, when post punk and new wave were the sounds of the future, a trio in Scotland morphed from goth sensibilities into all-encompassing gauzy soundscapes.

In 1984 the lineup was Robin Guthrie on guitar, Simon Raymonde on bass and Elizabeth Fraser on all vocals. Strangely, I couldn't find a listing for other instruments; it was all production. That caveat aside...

The Cocteau Twins are built upon Fraser's extraordinary vocals. You'd swear she was two people the way her voice dips and soars in near operatic flights. Her range and ability of expression are also noteworthy for not utilizing lyrics. Her songs are based in pure sound; English and (maybe) others crop up, seemingly for the feel of the word. That such distance, such affectedness, results in such emotionally gripping work is a testament to the Cocteaus talent.

When I heard Ivo for the first time, I'd have sworn it was a 90s product. It opens with acoustic strumming and Fraser's voice - off putting for spouting nonsense in such a high pitch. It's like getting dunked in cold water, but the music, which is equally as affected as her voice, is full of bell like percussion and a cooling lushness. It sways.

Lorelei is playful and spinning. One of the unique elements of the record is its ability to capture the sound of movement. The song structure is out of the ordinary, yet not inaccessable. Typical pop structure is forsaken with the rest of normality.

Beatrix is absolutely beautiful, a pure cascade of jangling harmonies. It's almost a complete musical circle, but just as it gets predictable, it shifts gears and becomes a brand new song laid on the same foundation.

Persephone lifts the style of hard rock. It's grungy, yet still somehow delicate and Fraser adapts to the tone perfectly. She utilizes near-English, but it makes no snese anyway. The quality is turbulent and ominous. Her two vocals play off each other excellently (she always doubles her voice and sings on different scales, which is a neat touch).

Pandora sounds absolutely Spanish. It has a sultry quality, and instrumental interludes as gentle as lacework.

Amelia is the most emotional moment. The tone is similar to Ivo and Lorelei, only the playful strangeness has been replaced with lament and sorrow and a sense of space and grandeur.

Aloysius returns from the dark. It's celebratory, frivolous and life-affirming. The drum beat is oddly low and deep for the "song." Listening to the CD several times, I can only wish they'd been a little less repetitious. First time, it's so lovely you don't mind, but afterwards.... So this CD is not to be revisited with too much consistancy.

Cicely is nicely ambiguous and strange. It's a melting pot of the sounds and styles from the other tracks. It calls to mind Persephone and is consistently contradictory.

Otterley is the most mysterious moment. Fraser descends to a breathy whisper, the music mixes with the sound of the tide. Atmosphere in spades. High drama being acted out in an unknown language.

And then it botches it completely. Donimo, six minutes of the most aggravating tune imaginable. It grates on me from the word go, yet somehow this, which would still have been weak at two minutes, gets stretched to a painful six, and sounds proud of itself for it! I don't listen to it; I stop at Otterley. Forced to take the album as a whole, Donimo stuck at the end to ruin the experience knocks a whole star off the rating.

Other than that, the Cocteau Twins are worth a listen.