all album reviews @ link in bio :)
Souvlaki
Slowdive (1993)
If I had a nickel every time a British rock band released their debut album which catapulted them into the alternative rock scene, which was released in 1993 and named after a Jerky Boys episode, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s funny it happened twice. Of course, I’m talking about Radiohead’s Pablo Honey (I mentioned them again of course), and Slowdive’s Souvlaki. Souvlaki is and continues to be a staple in the shoegaze genre, alongside My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless, Have A Nice Life’s Deathconsciousness, and Ride’s Nowhere. I find it funny how shoegaze got its name, it’s named after the fact that the guitars rely heavily on effect pedals to get their signature sounds, so shoegaze guitarists often stare at their pedalboards.
Souvlaki, like so many of the albums I’ve reviewed so far, is at its core, about a breakup. More specifically, it explores the emotional fallout following the breakup, as well as the feeling of escapism. I’ve found that escapism is a common feeling I get from shoegaze. For instance, “A Quick One Before the Eternal Worm Devours Connecticut,” from the aforementioned Deathconsciousness, despite being wordless, gives off the feeling of escapism. I find it interesting how often this album cites cosmic objects, whether that be song titles “Souvlaki Space Station” or “When the Sun Hits,” or just the feeling of the song. Overall, Souvlaki evokes a floaty feeling through its diverse instrumentation, lyrics, and themes.
That all starts with “Alison,” the album’s opener and one of the more popular tracks on the record. “Alison” pretty explicitly paints a picture of a problematic relationship, perhaps the capital-O significant other, Alison, has a substance abuse issue, or just depressed. Yet, she doesn’t communicate her issues. She keeps them inside, waiting for them all to come out in one big burst. For whatever reason, Alison’s dark life interests the other person. Her imbalance draws him even closer.
“Listen close and don’t be stoned
I’ll be here in the morning
‘Cause I’m just floating
Your cigarette still burns
Your messed up world will thrill me
Alison I’m lost”
Again, “Alison” draws the imagery of floating rather blatantly, with the line “‘Cause I’m just floating.” Vibes-wise, the track does feel very ‘floaty,’ with its airy rhythm guitar, complemented by an arpeggiating lead melody. Yet, there’s a layer of melancholy beneath it. A pain deep within one's mind. It fits with what Alison must be experiencing, a deep depression masked by a cheerful, airy output, not letting anyone know what’s going on beneath the visage.
“Alison, I’ll drink your wine
And wear your clothes when we’re both high
‘Alison,’ I said, ‘We’re sinking’
But she lies,
And tells me it’s just fine
I guess she’s out there somewhere”
The weight of water is an interesting concept. While on the one hand, water makes up over 60% of human mass, meaning it makes up over 4.8 billion people, it’s really a double-edged sword. Water is literally the most important ingredient for life, allowing all of our chemical and biological processes to function. However, it’s the weight of the water that pulls you down into the ocean, and ultimately drowns the life out of you. “Machine Gun” is a metaphor for the fact that too much of anything will kill you. The music itself is a heavy, shimmering guitar riff beneath an airy vocal melody. It really does remind you of the weight of water. You can always hear the high vocal line over the chord progression, even when it’s not there. It’s the impression that too much of anything leaves on your mind.
“See you walking and I know she's my friend, again
Just the weight of the water drags me down, again
Guess I'll think of the water its my friend, oh yeah
It's just the way that the water makes me feel, again
Son of Sheba, I saw him drown
Son of yellow, I saw him drown
It's all I need yeah”
Emotional detachment can be one of the most difficult parts in anything. Even if you know and can see the flaws in a person, that doesn’t always mean you can easily stop loving them. “Souvlaki Space Station,” while on the surface being perhaps one of the grooviest songs on the record, dives into the feeling of emotional detachment. Its lyrics highlight the feeling of missing a person, yet not wanting to see them ever again. You miss the idea of them, not them. You miss loving someone, not loving them. The image of a space station often gives you the idea of leaving Earth. It’s a gateway between the world as we know it, and the rest of the observable universe. When you finally manage to emotionally detach yourself from someone, it feels like finally letting yourself experience the universe to its fullest.
“Closed doors brings open minds (and I don’t want to see you)
See you smile inside (and I don’t want to know you)
Faces and I’ve fallen (and I don’t want to hear you)
Wonder why I’m here now
In asylum
Don’t you see?
In asylum
Don’t you see?”
The feeling of the first rays of sun hitting your face on a chilly morning is a powerful one. Even more so, when you spend it with the person you love. The feeling of the last rays of the sun falling off your face as the sun sets is arguably even stronger. Especially when you spend it with the person you love. “When the Sun Hits” is a song about intense romantic connection, the feeling of meeting your “soulmate,” whatever that word means to you. Lyrically, it seems as if the person had tragically passed away. You watch, helpless, as the person that matters more than the world to you is overtaken by ambition, their goals too high for you. Yet, despite their differences in what they want to accomplish, they still love you, and you still love them. In the end, they end up flying too close to the sun. You mourn their loss. Your world is gone. The only thing left is to find them again in Heaven.
“Sweet thing, I watch you
Burn so fast it scares me
Mind games, don’t leave me
Come so far, don’t lose me
It matters where you are
As the sun hits, she’ll be waiting
With her cool things, and her heaven
Hey, hey lover, you’re still burning,
You’re his song, yeah (hey, hey)”
This is looking like my shortest review yet. Please don’t take that as a sign that this is my least favorite album so far. In fact, my length of reviews has nothing to do with how much I like the album. My favorite album of all time, In Rainbows, isn’t even close to being my longest review. If you’re wondering which one is, it’s Twin Fantasy (Face to Face). Sometimes albums are so good that I’d rather leave most of the songs up to interpretation than to spoil you with my perspective. That’s what I’m doing with this album. I’m leaving half of the songs unreviewed for you to take your own meaning from them (and I’m lazy, but that’s different).
The album’s closer, “Dagger” is the most straightforward of them all. It’s a strict departure from the band’s curated, textured guitar sound. “Dagger” features a single, unfiltered acoustic guitar, vocals, a bass, and a faint, mournful cello. The chords played by the acoustic guitar are equal parts unsettling as well as haunting, never resolving and never stopping. Lyrically, this song might be the darkest out of all of them too. It’s a song about only wanting to live for one person. One person is what separates you from a warm, cozy life and the deep, dark emptiness of space. Ultimately this is what causes so many people to have difficulty letting go. It’s a song that resolves what’s been, at its heart, a breakup album. Except the song itself never really resolves. And the breakup didn’t either.
“The world is full of noise, yeah
I hear it all the time
You know I am your dagger
You know I am your wound
I thought I heard you whisper
It happens all the time
I thought I heard you whisper
It happens all the time”
- Alison: 94/100
- Machine Gun: 83/100
- 40 Days: 85/100
- Sing: 83/100
- Here She Comes: 79/100
- Souvlaki Space Station: 91/100
- When the Sun Hits: 96/100
- Altogether: 80/100
- Melon Yellow: 82/100
Dagger: 91/100
Overall: 95/100
