After producing something as special 'The Bends', Radiohead really had a task on their hands with the follow up. OK Computer, however, is majestic and proved beyond doubt that they were (at this stage in their careers) incapable of producing anything that was slight and easily forgotten. 'Ok Computer' pays homage in no small part to Douglas Adams' classic sci-fi novel 'The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy'. Read the opening pages and you will note several references that appear throughout this album. In fact why not set up 'Paranoid Android' in the background while you're doing it and perhaps it may all make sense. The book flies at every angle with weird and wonderful ideas highlighting a fertile imagination struggling to control the urge to get all the ideas down on paper, Radiohead simply paint the aural backdrop.

'Ok Computer' opens with the guitar driven glory of 'Airbag', full of atmospherics making its point with the efficiency of a sharpened needle. This mark of greatness continues right through to the sombre candy that is 'Lucky' near the end. In the process Radiohead produce a royal flush at every turn but it is far from an easy listen and unknowing ears could be turned away quite easily. The strength of the albums early moments almost eclipse the quieter moments that creep in as the album progresses. This is by no means an indication of an album running out of steam, it is a band with a full grip on how the listener should be treated. The jewel in the albums crown is undeniably 'Paranoid Android'. This is a two-part masterpiece that sucks you in with its delicate beauty and then when you think you're safe a large burst of chords strangle your peace to create a chaotic frenzy that is almost as attractive. The accompanying video was heartfelt and hard-hitting in a clever understated way. It added nothing to the fog of confusion that the song evoked but that doesn't matter because you know that the digs are been made and the guilty have taken note.

'Subterranean Homesick Alien' is expansive, vast and is musically similar to early Verve movements (go see). 'Climbing up the Walls' is a frightening vision. Thankfully then 'No Surprises' and 'Let Down' resemble Radiohead circa 'The Bends’, which is no bad thing because as simple pop songs they provide a bit of relief from the aural challenges that are thrown out in abundance all over the album. 'Ok Computer' is rock opera of epic proportions. It’s genius remains undimmed to this day, gloriously underlining Radiohead’s worth and proving conclusively that contemporary music still had the power to furrow new and exciting ground.

Rating: 8.5/10

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With enough good material to surpass most compilation albums Screamadelica redefined these Glaswegian rascals and in the process became one of the seminal albums of the 1990’s. It’s one of those all encompassing albums that takes in strands as diverse as dance, rock and dub and blends them into a heady mix that titillates every time. As one of the tunes so eloquently puts it, as you listen you must not fight it, just feel it. Fronted by the elegantly wasted waif Bobby Gillespie Primal Scream certainly had the creative spark to mark them out from the crowd but lacked the nuance to communicate their ideas. So when they recruited producer Andrew Weatherall the alchemy that up to that point had eluded them poured forth like a monsoon. Within the space of 12 blissed out classics Primal Scream transformed from indie upstarts to genre defining dance gurus. Weatherall’s steady hand is stamped over three quarters of the album, for the rest Primal Scream delightfully revert to type.

Things get off to an energetic start on ‘Movin’on Up’, as Bobby screams ‘I was blind, now I can see’ you get the feeling that this may be the beginning of something a bit different. ‘Movin’on Up’ bleeds the sound of the Stones, with an unfiltered energy percolating through every octave. Within the blink of an eye, the band completely change tact. It’s as if the drugs were finally starting to kick in. ‘Slip Inside This House’ is the Happy Mondays with trademark lazy vocal delivery over a bulging beat. With your headphones on it almost feels like your head is about to spontaneously combust. The requisite piano riff was a nod to the dance scene at the time where no production was complete without a trip to the ivories. Taken from the same template but with several tablespoons of acid thrown in for good measure ‘Don’t Fight It, Feel It’ is a chariot ride through the Hacienda. Denise Johnson takes the helm as the motley crew of whistles, drum machines and several hundred cosmic sounds from Jupiter combine to spring clean a path through your cranium. It never fails to light the fire at any party. After that electric trip comes that very rare beast, the glorious comedown. ‘Higher Than The Sun’ has been remixed, spliced and reinvented many times but the results generally come knocking on the originals door. This is what those nudies would have bathed in had Woodstock occurred in a particularly dry spell. Finding a piece to outdo ‘Higher Than The Sun’s complete ascent into altitudes normally frequented by kites would be an onerous task were it not for ‘Inner Flight’ and its spaced out demeanour forever finding unique ways to colour your imagination.

‘Come Together’ remains Primal Scream’s greatest gift to us. Over 10 minutes Malcolm X tries to get his words in edgeways over some of the sweetest processed beats this side of a kilo of sugar. This is an album worth of sounds by itself, a true original that so often meant that Primal Screams shows resembled quasi-religious experiences. As Malcolm holds hands with Denise Johnson’s 32 ‘Come Together’s it’s as if no other piece of music will ever reach this sonic exuberance. If that wasn’t enough Andrew Weatherall turns the raw materials that was the Scream’s single ‘I’m Losing More Than I Ever Had’ into a fully functioning dance classic. At this point the album changes tact as lush valleys of sound replace mountains peak highs. ‘Damaged’ reintroduces the guitar into proceedings, as a backdrop to Gillespies plundering of his own emotions. It’s a case of steadying the ship before we flashback to the enormous rushes of before. ‘I’m Coming Down’ is almost self explanatory save to say that the lazy brass interludes drift so perfectly into the mix it seems that the ensemble at this point were incapable of putting a foot wrong. To ram the point home ‘Higher Than The Sun’ is given a second airing but this time it comes as a dub symphony in two parts. Jah Wobble furnishes a pummelling bass line and Bobby supplies a voice riding a pirouetting feather. For 7 minutes you’re likely to lose the plot but rereads always reward in the most unexpected of ways. Before you snap out of the carnival of sound ‘Shine Like Stars’ perfectly tags the preceding contents with the neatest of endings.

Perhaps in flying so close to perfection Primal Scream burnt themselves out as the follow-up 'Give Out But Don't Give Up' was an unmitigated disaster as they returned to their rocky roots. Over time the band have made up good ground but the sustained beauty of Screamadelica has yet to be eclipsed. The unadulterated joie-de-vivre that pours forth from the albums grooves is the sound of one of the best albums ever produced. This is a piece of work that ebbs and flows with an intoxicated glee. You’ll slouch, you’ll groove, you’ll shake and finally, in true Gillespie style, you’ll make like a flapping penguin. It’s one of those rare treats that never grows tiresome, it’ll be something to play to your kids to have them retracting those cruel ‘has been’ taunts.

Rating: 9.5/10

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Sometimes a song hits you square between the eyes. The sound is enough to stop you in your tracks; enough to have you pressing your ear against the radio to ensure you catch the name of the band, enough to have you sending cash in unsealed envelopes to Fat Cat executives in the vain hope that a certain limited e.p would make the return journey. When 'Summer Babe' found it's way into my heart, the craving was near unsustainable. It’s lo-fi ebb sat well with a newly post-graduated ambition not to fall into the 9 to 5 trap. Here was a song that was so laid-back and melodious you can almost see it hanging in the air. Who cares about clocking on when there‘s an ice babe to entertain?

Fast-forward to 1994 and the release of Pavement’s second album Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. At this stage Stephen Malkmus and Scott Kannberg writing partnership had matured to somewhat iron the kinks and outrageous detours of their gloriously ramshackle debut ‘Slanted & Enchanted’. Not that any of the charm was lost; this progression meant the wholesome ideas that were once buried in a fog of musical sketches now came to the fore as grand masterpieces. As ever the playing is akin to a band of genius insomniacs, cajoling the noise from their instruments, nothing is hurried and the hopelessly beautiful music comes forth at will. Pavement created tunes where the essence wasn’t confined to the chorus, you often have to sit through the lot before you’re appetite was slaked. ‘Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’ succeeds in the consistency with which it throws out winning ideas. At least half the album is made up of classic pop songs. Like 'Gold Soundz’, which is perhaps Pavement’s defining moment. As infectious as ebola and twice as incurable it is one the sweetest things to emerge from the 1990’s. Steve Malkmus’ eternally youthful exuberance goes into overdrive, his lyrics are dispassionately lovely (‘So drunk in the August sun, And you’re the kind of girl I like, Because you’re empty and I’m empty, And you can never quarantine the past’) and in the midst of all this the guitars tumble over each other in an ever-increasing pool of redolence.

While his songs may come across as inoffensively as a Sky News presenter, Steve Malkmus is well able to pen the odd poison lyric. The countrified breath of ‘Range Life’ ambles along as only piano keys, gently tugged strings and hushed percussion can. Before you know it, the Smashing Pumpkins and the Stone Temple Pilots are singled out for some old fashioned bare knuckled bile. For the most part, however, ‘Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’ is a joyful romp. I mean 'Cut Your Hair' is like a mint in a hangover induced mouth, all melodic chords and refreshing vocals. This album has so many hip shaking raptures it's futile to pick out holes. 'Elevate Me Later' has such a lazy drumroll it could send infants within earshot to sleep. The slow tempered guitar progression is ably conjoined with Malkmus’ stoned delivery and several perfectly sequined la’s and ah’s. Similarly, 'Unfair' is dedicated throwaway pop, a mosh-friendly stomper that devours rickety timber floors. A potential template for all bands looking to be asymmetrical. Surely it must end there you think, but tracks like ‘Silent Kit’ and 'Heaven is a Truck' are so flagrantly effortless you'll down tools and sway like a coconut tree on a balmy Caribbean eve.

There are nods to the early days when the thrills didn’t come so easy. ‘Hit The Plane Down’ has Mark E Smith’s influence all over it, dirty chords and the general feeling that it should have landed somewhere else. ‘Fillmore Jive’ is detached, aloof and flagrantly in need of some shuteye. And they even find time to slip in a Jazz mood piece ‘5-4=Unity’. Despite these interludes ‘Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’ is fabulously tangible, a rare populist excursion. While there’s no doubt that Pavement could have engineered a successful formula for mass appeal they were consistently led by their inner voices. ‘Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’ was the closest they got to progressing beyond the wings. The promo for ‘Cut Your Hair’ got extended airplay on MTV and for a time it seemed as if all the great forgotten bands of yesteryear had at last found a champion. This is a no less an important album than, say, Nevermind or Screamadelica. History will, no doubt, revisit ‘Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’ and it will rightfully be revered by a different generation.

Rating: 9/10

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Loveless is an album beyond compare. Layered with as much precision as a 18th century petticoat, its profound influence has crafted the musical direction of countless bands. The sound is staggering in its intensity yet its the underlying subtle melodies that marks it out from the crowd. Loveless resembles a wild stallion, unfettered but still magnificent. It is only when you have tamed the sound that the true genius appears through the fog. The fact that Kevin Shields spent several months trying to perfect its lush sound, almost going mad in the process can only be for the worlds benefit. Nowadays he occasionally slums it on stage with Primal Scream. Colm O'Ciosoig (drums) is now a Warm Invention with Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star fame.

While a lot of the tracks on Loveless do employ a vocal, it is buried so deep in the mix that a lot of the time it takes quite an effort to pick it out. The heavenly sounding Belinda Butcher provides the voice alternatively with Shields. Opening track 'Only Shallow' may resemble the crunching noise of industrial machines processing at full throttle initially but My Bloody Valentines greatest trick is to follow this up with a streamlined blanket of lush vocals and exquisite guitar meshes. 'Touched' is upsetting in a Banshee wail type of way. That's why 'To Here Knows When' is almost spiritually uplifting. It contains a faint glimmer of a female vocal encased in the most delicate guitar string stretch. To here this sound directly after an episode of Coronation Street might induce several heart attacks but in this context it resembles a cool strawberry milk-shake on a secluded beach. Then 'Blown a Wish' with its warped vinyl tendencies conjures imaginary feathers falling from the sky that allow your aural cavities to wallow in splendid comfort. Majestic doesn't get more regal than this.

Listening to Loveless is more often than not a moving experience. I have witnessed several dedicated non-followers of challenging music sit up, take note and comment positively on its extraordinary sound. 'Sometimes' a single lifted from the album is about as close as you will get to straightforward pop. Its understated nature is more affecting than is legal, watch as your metabolism slows to match the laid-back guitar strumming and quashed organic sounds. My Bloody Valentine sometimes get lumped in with the shoegazing pack and while that scene is fondly remembered by many, Loveless remains a peerless album that will persevere through this and many generations to come. It's 2 outstanding moments 'Soon' and 'I Only Said' rank among the best music ever made. If Beethoven was still around this is the sort of stuff that he would have come up with. Both tracks are vaguely repetitive but are built around such resilient hooks they could raise the titanic.

As albums attract your attention and are slowly forgotten you'll find yourself continually returning to Loveless. The Loveless experience might only be a bi-annual event but in-between the warm glow of its greatness will assure you whenever you begin to doubt the mood enhancing effect of music. The 142nd listen will sound as fresh the first. Loveless' blood red cover contains a shadowy grey outline of a hand strumming a guitar. Hunt it down in your record store and watch as the sales assistant marvels at the wisest decision he/she has seen since somebody bought the last copy of that limited edition Giant Steps.

Rating: 10/10

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