The House Of Love - The House Of Love (1990)

Another album to be emitted in the year that Madchester enveloped the pop world. 1990 saw the alternative movers take centre stage and for an all too brief time cutting edge music was infiltrating the charts. For a while there it seemed like the four blokes from the House of Love could actually be going somewhere. Their most successful album, 'Babe Rainbow', had yet to be conceived but their eponymous album still sparkled with shiny pop gems including the bands most enduring standard 'Shine On'. The House of Love's inspiration more or less evolved from singer/songwriter Guy Chadwick. From 1986 to 1994 he and his cohorts created some of the most rapturous jangle pop possible. It would interesting to see the reaction to the The House Of Love if it were released today. It has a subtle touch that could probably fit in whatever the fashion. 'Hannah' the opening cut has all the confident swing of a Stone Roses b-side; the guitars shimmer and dive to mask the partially inadequate lyrics. Just as you begin to tire of the idea, the chords like sirens of 'Shine On' whip up the ante. There is an unrelenting curiosity about this song, so straightforward yet enigmatic in its own way. Lacking in inspiration or inspiringly diverse; still can't make up my mind.

To this day 'Beatles And The Stones' continues to send a shiver down my cranium. Slicing historical newsreel with a chiming guitar entourage it is enough to make a bachelor whimper. As Chadwick's silky vocals enter the fray its time to sit down and take stock of the beauty of music. Yeah it's that good, as soothing as a comfort blanket and as joyful as a dance around the May Pole. The second best song this band ever produced (a close second to the majestic 'Feel'). The mystical charm continues to plume on 'Shake And Crawl' where gorgeous guitar chugs are aided and abetted by some celestial keyboards. The singing is forlorn, distant and wholeheartedly affecting so much so that an unusually large lump could obstruct your airways. Such a pity then that reality is resolutely restored with the plodding and frighteningly forgettable 'Hedonist'.

Opening like a cider fuelled crusty fireside party 'Never' builds up an uneven head of steam as the melting pot of psychedelic strings, lovestruck poetry and lilting percussion finds its groove. 'Someone's Got To Love You' is definitely more focused and gentler. Imagine a more mature Oasis settling back in their armchairs as the video of their early years is replayed. This could comfort their frowns and scowls until the beasts were controlled and semi-tamed. 'In A Room' is the type of standard that could elevate an already fuelled feeling of euphoria. The drumming by Pete Evans is frantic yet rhythmic, the guitars are plucked deliciously at the speed of light by Terry Bickers and when the momentum finally boils over the whole affair takes on the form of a glittering pool of diamonds. Not for those affected by flash photography or Playstation 6 graphics then.

There is sadness impinging on a lot of the House of Love's back catalogue. On occasions the guitars make like they're grieving for a tiny contemporary that was dropped and broken in the musical instrument store by a spotty teenager. 'Blind' is all the evidence you need to witness the wake. Guy Chadwick pours heartfelt feeling into his delivery while the distraught musicianship plays on your soft side until you feel like paying for the damage yourself. Such grief is casually swept aside by the shattering effect of forked guitar work on '32rd Floor'. This is a song packed with all the thunder/lightening effects you'll ever need to illuminate the drama of a Premiership game. The lyrics are caustic but the brutal beauty of the music is alluring. If that wasn't enough the album turns on its head when Hank Williams is somehow resurrected to add a dusty atmosphere to 'Se Dest'. Freaky and threatening, just make sure you don't play it near the end of October. For the rest of the year treat yourself.

The albums has an eye catching mosaic of a colourful butterfly cast on a brick wall. It's simplistic but as eloquent as the music contained within. Take 'I Don't Know Why I Love You' where steady guitar pulses are spun through disbelieving words like 'Your face is like a hammer in my head'. This album is sometimes confused with the groups much lauded eponymous debut album. At times the production sounds a little tinny but, thankfully, the euphoria is hardly affected by this lacklustre knob twiddling. The House of Love belong to a forgotten time. Thankfully with one or two exceptions the music they created has proved to be timeless. 'Babe Rainbow' in 1992 would go on to reveal a more polished sound and a few better songs but this album evokes a unique inert sound of creation.

Rating: 8/10

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