With All Is Dream Mercury Rev build on the ‘Deserters Songs’ vision to create a spectral opus that was utterly unique in the repackaged pop culture of 2001. Mercury Rev are a band with an acute sense of purpose as well as a sparkle in their collective eyes. These dynamic characteristics see them consistently outdoing their own high standards. Drenched in orchestral manoeuvres ‘All Is Dream’ leaves the base camp hauls itself up to the summit and then pears majestically down on the world. While 'Deserter Songs' may have a more cohesive feel to it, 'All Is Dream' has the better tunes. 'Little Rhymes' is one of them. Starting out with a surreal edge it quickly gathers pace to become a truly uplifting experience. There is a unique ambiance that is hard to quantify but the assorted sounds simply lather Jonathon's voice. The guitar playing has a spaghetti western ring and the eerie backdrop adds to the unforgettable mystique.

'The Dark Is Rising' boasts Powerful orchestration, ambitious lyrics and a female soprano near fade out gel to create the greatest love song written so far this century. It's hard not be moved, this is a song that will be cherished for centuries to come. 'Nite And Fog' could be 'Delta Neck Stomp?' more restrained brother. With a punishing beat that draws the best from a gallery of instruments, Jonathon Donahue masterfully rides the crest in that unique unassuming way of his. After this joyous high the comedown is even better. 'A Drop In Time' is probably Mercury Rev's most accessible song ever. It exudes their innate ability to recreate a seasonal spirit. The violas are plucked with wondrous glee, a gallery of angels loom in the distance and a sweet harvest of strings round off the jamboree. You won't always be assured of snowfalls when it's played and in any case 'A Drop In Time' has such a warm glow it would probably melt on impact.

'You're My Queen' is rather more basic but still wondrous. You can hear a tiny Bowie influence ('Heroes') as it skirts by in super quick time. The chugging chords provide the impetus for Donahue's words that are delivered in an uncharacteristic energised way. The whole effect recalls earlier directions and diminishes any risk of orchestral overload. Jonathan Donahue's vocals have become more shrill with age. You can see how people are put off by them but it's hard to deny their wholesome gravitas. Only once do they really become taxing, on the slightly pathetic 'Lincoln's Eyes' that has its roots in forgettable daytime nursery rhymes a la 'Whose Afraid Of The Drunken Sailor'. 'Tides Of The Moon' has a great deal more purpose and a searing intensity that is hard to resist.

It's business as usual on 'Spiders And Flies'. The lazy piano is omnipresent as well as some mellotron flute intermissions. The singing sounds a little wasted and perhaps the whole effect is a little shallow. The same accusation can't be directed at ‘Hercules’, which has all the hallmarks of greatness lurking in its loins. Spanning over 8 minutes it's all you could wish for to close the album. As it whisks about acoustically the beaming Hammond suggests there is more adventures lying dormant in reserve. The lyrics have an old world ring and are suitably expressive. As the scratchy guitars blow the top off the gentle atmosphere Mercury Rev begin the long descent back home. The victory march is spectacular and awe inspiring. As it draws its last breath you realise that fantasy is now not only the domain of the film and print industries.

Like all seminal albums 'All Is Dream' doesn't reveal itself straight away. You could even be mildly disappointed at first. Sooner or later though the genius does shine through. There is such a grand splendour to this offering that it will surely become a lasting classic. It is hard to see how Mercury Rev can spur themselves to even greater feats but their legend is now surely cast. They have proved once again that they are the best exponents of intelligent pop on the planet today.

Rating: 6.5/10

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And right out of the blue came Mercury Rev. Nearly men, who had crafted several flawed albums, until the magical opus that was Deserter's Songs reared its delicately patterned head. Add this album to their unforgettable intimate live performances and Mercury Rev rightfully holds pride of place on the a-list of innovative artists. Boces, like many of Mercury Rev's previous albums, was full of brilliant half ideas. What it lacked in focus, it made up in energy. Like 'Something For Joey', a song that ran ragged for minutes exposing an unpolished sheen that suggested that greatness was close at hand. ’Deserters Songs' is a different proposition altogether, however. Where Mercury Rev once fumbled in the dark with their undoubted genius, they now provide the bright lights for an art form in serious need of reinvention.

'Holes' kicks off proceedings in reflective mode. Lacking a distinct beat, this song turns the blueprint for modern music on its head. Imagine floating high above the clouds while catching a glimpse of celestial beings practising for that great gig in the sky. The quality of instrumentation is quite staggering, but what is more surprising is the thought of four men in their late thirties, one called Grasshopper, dictating matters. With a vast array of instruments being introduced at close intervals throughout 'Deserter Songs' it's not surprising that some of the tunes sound otherworldly. Take 'Endlessly' for example. Could it be those Chamberlin Strings, them Woodwinds, the Wurlitzer, that Mellotron or perhaps the B3 (instrument of the century anyone) that makes it sound like it is the most refreshing song you've ever heard? Hard to judge really, but one thing is for sure once you've heard 'Endlessly', it will impose an indelible impression.

This is Mercury Rev's great gift. They make the most natural of musical decisions by choosing the most appropriate instrument available. These decisions breathe life into their ideas. So when you hear a female voice shadowing on the outskirts of the 'Hudson Line' it fits perfectly, like that elusive last piece of a jigsaw you uncovered by chance down the back of the couch. 'Goddess on a Hiway', the first single to be released off the album signalled Jonathan Donahue and chums intentions. With a lithesome piano intro, the tune extends its amiable nature to befriend all comers. Donahue's vocals vary between a matter-of-fact and a harmonious delivery while the sound swell fills in the blanks. At other times it perfectly paints the sun rising over a cool blue ocean.

’Deserter Songs' inspires the use of analogies. Simple chord descriptions simply wouldn't do the album justice. 'Tonite It Shows' captures the scene where you're beneath the stars with your loved one and the world for a second becomes you're oyster, the moon you’re pearly gift. This is mood-enhancing stuff with Donahue’s vocals sounding vulnerable and affecting. 'Deserter Songs' is much more than a collection of instruments and people making a sound. The album paints a sea of innovative strokes with ideas strewn colourfully like fish in an aquatic collectors tank. Subtlety becomes an art form; grandiose enters the alternative arena and old men weep at the beauty of it all. It is the best Christmas album ever made such is its wide-eyed approach. At the end the listener is left with 'Delta Sun Bottleneck Stomp' to wash away all the pent up emotions, leaving us dizzy and ready to begin the adventure all over again. 'Deserter Songs' is an album to dance to, an album to cry to, an album to make love to and most off all an album to live life by. Not an adventure of a lifetime then, more one you can take every three-quarters of an hour.

Rating: 9/10

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Boces released in 1993, was Mercury Rev's second album. Named after a juvenile rehabilitation programme in New York it is perhaps a good indication of the mental state of the band at the time. Promoting the LP, they embarked on a support slot with Spiritualized. Their performances were consistently hindered by infighting and substance abuse became a nightly occurrence. A sloppy indecipherable song like 'Girlfren' from the album, highlights the inner and outer demons that were taking their toll. It is quite disturbing and really should not have been chosen to tie up what is otherwise an impressive, if quite flawed, album. 'Meth Of A Rockette's Kick' is the audacious opener sounding like a schizophrenic conceived it. The song literally trips itself up under the weight of its distracted meandering. The fact that the sweet brass sounds filter through at all is remarkable as the cacophony of voices, French horns, percussion, screeching guitars, trombones and tinkling piano keys threaten to strangle the life out of them. Very nice, but if bustling city centres are not your want then avoid.

After the peachy nerve of the opener, Mercury Rev go on and ruin it all by spluttering through 'Trickle Down'. Sounding like a cut from a soundtrack to a particularly bad independent movie, it features some of the lousiest humming this side of hell. Lucky then that the ecstatic charm of 'Bronx Cheer' brushes your teeth clean of the previous tunes bad taste. 'Bronx Cheer' is one of the few examples of Mercury Rev playing it straight. Creating the perfect pop song is one thing but making it sound fresh after 20 listens is another. It splashes about enthusiastically, falling just short of manic but those rushing chords do cause a few flutters. David Baker's sweet lilting vocals are accommodating, warm and fragile. Baker left the band soon after 'Boces' was released leaving full vocal duties to the principal songwriter Jonathan Donahue (who started out as a member of the Flaming Lips, it’s all making sense!).

The fuzzy singing on 'Boys Peel Out' adds to its lazy charm. The bass playing just about musters a riff and the whole atmosphere adds to the feeling that it was recorded at six in the morning after one too many whiskeys. Towards the end there is a mini jazz jam to round off that laid back vibe. 'Downs Are Feminine Balloons' is even classier. Purpose built guitars shimmer on the horizon and the delicate flute playing is divine. Baker's vocals are subtle and charming and don't distract from the accomplished musicianship that swells around them. Like a quieter Dinosaur Jr foray into abstract pop, listening to it makes you feel warm inside. The album's unchallenged highlight comes when all the effective parts to Mercury Rev's sound fuse seamlessly together. 'Something For Joey' dons its persuasive cap with the most eco friendly of sounds. The trombone is partially hidden by some delightful guitar playing, the momentum is aided and abetted by the clearest of flutes and the harmonies have genius at work written all over them. It all comes to an end too quickly so perhaps some of the bands trademark doodling could have enhanced the musical drama.

'Snorry Mouth' reintroduces the uneven mess theme. The words lack focus but luckily it contains just enough qualities to warrant attention. Pity the same can't be said for 'Continuous Drunks And Blunders’, which is just a waste of plastic. I guess it would be fine if you're about to embark on a course of meditation but otherwise it is redundant. 'Hi-Speed Boats' restores a little direction to proceedings. Donahue and Baker share vocal duties, taking control at intervening moments while a post-rock gale whips up the ante. It's got a start, a chorus of sorts and it doesn't drag its heels so be thankful for this simplistic approach. Trying to make sense of the images on the album's cover is difficult. Two wooden figures, one naked, the other perched underneath wearing a 'I love mum' T-shirt. There is humour in the image but the smile raised is awkward. Pushing the listener or merely provoking discussion it is certainly eye catching. Jonathan Donahue has described 'Boces' in his own unique way; 'your rebellious second kid who doesn't pay attention to one word you say and is always in trouble'. Yeah, but you gotta love the little mite all the same. Mercury Rev are one of the most important bands in the world at the moment, try to saviour their glorious present but don't forget to admire their deliciously shady past.

Rating: 7/10

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Pavement's final album 'Terror Twilight' displayed how the wheels were well and truly coming off this ingenious enterprise. It seemed to have been made with a sigh rather than a smirk even though there was some typically shiny pop tunes included. With the subsequent sad demise of the band, lead singer Stephen Malkmus somehow rose phoenix like from their ashes to produce a solo that, at least, occasionally harks back to the glory days. Stephen Malkmus is classically based on the Pavement blueprint of beguiling guitar manoeuvres, strong vocals and deadpan lyrics. One wonders though, how Malkmus expected to achieve anything more than he had with Pavement when he peddles a similar set of wares.

With Malkmus you get generous hauls of jangly guitar hooks and a vocal that expedites a slacker attitude. 'Church On White' is a case in point; just another song where you crack open the oyster, worrying only how big the pearl inside will be. There are little nods to other artists between the grooves. 'The Hook' has a neat Stones riff; there are faraway echoes of Clapton on 'Trojan Curfew' and some gentle Velvet Underground nuances on 'Discretion Grove'. Outside of this, the rest is of Malkmus' own making. Who else could conceive musical piety in the form of 'Vague Space’, which is a little disturbed, a little lo-fi and more than a little brilliant. 'The Black Book' sees a noticeably more mature Malkmus play it straight for once which acts a good foil for the bubblegum genius that follows it.

'Phantasies' has a sunny grove complete with handclaps and xylophones. Thankfully it is about as light and throwaway as the album gets. Elsewhere the melody is carefully masked resulting in a more jagged listening experience. Like on 'Jo Jo's Jacket', a disjointed tune that slowly weaves its magic as its disparate parts gel. As was the case with Pavement, some efforts are unconditionally gorgeous. 'Trojan Curfew' spins off at a divine tangent, only after it has coolly lulled you into the false impression that it's a homespun effort packed with lilting piano's and Malkmus' fireside vocals. 'Discretion Grove' which became a single is Malkmus by numbers, which in itself is no bad thing but it remains a strange choice to announce the album. True, there are some lovely chord changes but it lacks a killer chorus that would have the uninitiated listening in with interest. 'Deado' is a lot more amiable, low slung and inebriated on melody it is Malkmus gently tugging at our heartstrings and succeeding.

Pavement left us with a sublime pop legacy. Stephen Malkmus has a big task on his hands to emulate their achievements but his solo debut is a tidy start. Pavement could have taken some choice cuts from this and turned ‘Terror Twilight’ into a nourishing addition to their own legacy. Perhaps Malkmus was keeping the better songs in reserve foreseeing the end of the band. As it is Stephen Malkmus is a patchwork quilt of the great, the good and the average, which means it just falls short of being a winner. That said this album is neither a crisis nor a boring change.

Rating: 6/10

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It was with a teary eye that I first heard Lowgold. They sounded so perfect, deriving from the blueprint for innovative guitar fused melody. After that, there was no turning back. Isn't it great that in a time of unprecedented amounts of appalling music doing the rounds, that bands as special as Lowgold can release gorgeous records like Just Backward of Square. Surprisingly not all of the critics have lavished praise on Lowgold's debut even though it possesses a massive untapped potential. Ok, there's nothing revolutionary going on except straightforward indiepop but it is delivered with a panache and enthusiasm that is altogether too rare. All of the songs bar one were written by singer Darren Ford and while he doesn't depart from the template too often, it hardly seems to matter when this sort of thing has the ability to charm the birds from the trees. His voice is slightly distorted at times adding to the lo-fi feel that many of the tracks possess.

The fact that there are so many precious moments on this album means that it's hard to pick highlights. 'Beauty Dies Young' is certainly one, however, as it takes its lazy attitude and comes up with terrific sonic creations that are as infectious as an airborne virus. 'Open the Airwaves' has a staggered stomp; Ford's vocals melting seamlessly into the mix as a tirade of guitar interruptions surround them. 'Never Alone' evolves from its humble beginnings into a fully fledged orchestral wailing guitar montage. It seeks out those hairs on the back of your neck and toys with them until they stand up and take notice. 'Mercury' is another slow burner that has a chorus to die for as flailing guitar bursts spit fire all round it.

The list of aural pleasures just goes on and on and there's scarcely a duff track in sight. You will look long and hard for an album that consistently lives up to JBOS's high standards. It reminds me most of Wheat's Hope & Adams. It has a cool charm all of its own without ever sounding like it is pushed or hurried. There are also echoes of Doves and early Mogwai peppered throughout which gives JBOS a cosy familiar feel. Intelligent, low-slung guitar movements perfect for public consumption. Start digesting at your earliest convenience.

Rating: 7/10

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For a band that seem to press all the right buttons it's a little surprising that the Lemonheads haven't achieved more success. Here is a band with a singer who is easy on the eye, possess cheery tunes aplenty and purport to moral values that don't require a parental warning. It's a Shame About Ray was their first album to tweak any interest outside of their native America and offers a glowing account of their potential. Evan Dando is the Gram Parsons adoring singer who writes all the music. His countrified drawl rarely changes pitch throughout the album, which is a bit of a pity because his lungs could probably offer a more wholesome workout. Ably helping him is Juliana Hatfield, the bass player and backing vocalist. She has had a moderately successful career with her own band, the ingeniously monikered Juliana Hatfield 3. Their song 'My Sister' went on to dent the outer reaches of the charts.

'It's A Shame About Ray' is a subtle album that could play in the background without ever offending anyone. The melodies spill generously from each of its 13 tracks and every once in a while you have to sit back and admire the consistent quality at work. The title track for example is so overtly wonderful; given the right exposure it could have drunks up and down the land attempting it in unison on their way home. 'Rockin Stroll' opens proceedings at a frantic pace. The guitar shards fire every each way as Dando attempts to rein in the chord bluster and chaotic drumming with some controlled vitriol. Against this backdrop the delightful 'Confetti' sounds close to sane. It remains one the album's highlights, swinging as it does from the coat tails of the cleanest of acoustic riffs. If you were to paint a picture of the images the tune conjures then a large ballroom with hundreds of twirling evening gowns would come fairly close.

'Rudderless' turns out to be nothing of the sort. The chord arrangements are clever and Hatfield's periodic vocal intermissions are fresh and dainty. 'The Turnpike Down' is equally impressive, with guitar and bass sequences recalling New Order while Dando produces a vocal delivery as slick as hair gel. This is the sort of music that just begs to be listened to. 'Buddy' is about as slowcore as the album gets, it is quaint but a little half-baked and droll. Many of the tunes pass by in a flash, hovering around the 3-minute mark. 'Alison's Starting To Happen' is less than 120 seconds long but its feverish makeup will blast a hole in your shirt. It all sounds like the band had purposely thrown their instruments into a washing machine in the hope that something melodic would eventually come out in the wash. Thankfully the experiment pays off handsomely with the result that 'Alison's Starting To Happen' is bold, dazzling and a riel treat.

The song that catapulted the Lemonheads to fame was their cover of Simon and Garfunkels 'Mrs. Robinson' from 'The Graduate' soundtrack. As well as introducing a new generation to the film, it breathed new gusto into a song that was over 20 years old. David Ryan's drumming is particular prevalent and beautifully adds to the songs scuzzy tact. Calm down there Juliana, when she does 'Bit Part' opens up to divulge the story of an unrequited friendship. What it lacks in substance it more than makes up with an energy that could power a hydroelectric station. Much more substantial is the rollercoasting 'Kitchen', the sometime dual vocals superbly keeping up with the lightning guitars. With several nods to Nashville 'Hannah & Gabi' rustles a strong melody from the unlikeliest of sources. The vocals are underplayed, the words lack self-esteem but the emotions that are central to its cause will have you tearing up. On a similar thread 'Frank Mills' sounds like it was recorded in a barn. Not very distinguished unless you are perched on a blanket, sitting around a fire taking periodic glances at the starry night sky.

Perhaps it's the album's distant lack of shock value or the ease at which the tunes sound amiable that has hindered the progress of this album. The lyrics tend to drift from the simplistic to the banal adding credence to the thought that Mr. Dando's mind was perhaps resident in a parallel universe (ceiling fan in my spoon, anyone?) during the recordings. There is no denying, however, that 33 minutes in the company of the Lemonheads is time well spent. An album you'll keep returning to even if something replaces the guitar as pop music's greatest invention.

Rating: 7/10

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The La’s mainman Lee Mavers discounted their one and only album when it was released citing he's unhappiness with the way the songs ended up sounding. He promised a follow up that was not to be. This prompted bass player John Power to form his own band, the excruciatingly bad Cast. Lee Mavers is still talked about in hushed tones in his native Liverpool, his low profile only fueling the legend. Mavers possessed a unique grainy vocal style that was adept at reinventing itself within the confines of a single tune. As a result of several years gigging his band became accomplished at providing jangling guitar moments at every turn. The La's sound was made up of a hybrid of influences from the sixties with token modern ingredients to make it sound contemporary. At various times through the album you can hear seminal bands like the Beatles and the Byrds filtering through.

The La's contains the ubiquitous 'There She Goes' but there are several other tracks that are just as intoxicating. 'Looking Glass' is the work of an unequivocal genius. It builds up to an apocalyptic crescendo over 7 gorgeous minutes. Mavers sounds particularly vulnerable as the acoustic guitars swell around him. Powerful lyrics like 'Tell me why I'm bound to tear the pages open, Turn the world around' spill gorgeously over the seismic musical backdrop. As a steam train momentum cracks the early peace, watch as the delph on your kitchen table rattle under its rollercoaster spirit. 'Doledrum' is like a Gomez take on Mexicano, far removed from the conventional view of pop music but it is sassy, confident and uplifting all the same. 'Feelin' is perhaps the best song Paul McCartney never wrote. The guitars have a resplendent retro appeal, while Mavers vocals skip the light fantastic all within the blinking of an eye. A perfectly formed jewel of a song for the price of 104 seconds of your time. 'Way Out' continues the unwavering quality, full of scattershot guitar bolts and sweet summertime harmonies.

There is not much you can say about 'There She Goes' that hasn't already been said. A little known rumour that went around when it was originally released supposed that the song was written about heroin addiction. References to 'pulsing thru' my vein' and 'racing thru' my brain' perhaps adds a little credence to this argument. The subtext hardly matters anyway when those sunny harmonies and shiny guitars kick in. There is no question that 'There She Goes' will permeate through the vagaries of time and fashion. For some reason 'Timeless Melody' used to remind me of James. Lee Mavers doesn't sound like Tim Booth but there is a melodic swing that could have easily fitted onto James' album 'Seven'. As it is, even though Mavers vocals are to the forefront the guitar riffs are clear and exquisite. 'I Can't Sleep' is another high mark for the album, a simple chord change is all that is required to weave a rich sonic tapestry.

Not everything Lee Mavers turned his hand to turned to gold however. 'I.O.U.' rattles in under a cowboy hat and marks an album somewhat running out of steam. Its ill defined approach is refreshing but the song veers too close to the shoe box marked duds to be very likeable. 'Freedom Song' is almost a pantomime routine that wouldn't be out of place on the soundtrack to Last of the Summer Wine. It is a plodding dirge and perhaps goes some way to explaining the indignation Mavers holds towards the album. 'Failure' is also a little rough and ready, sounding like little effort was put into its construction. Perhaps if these hiccups had been dealt with, the La's could have been genuine contenders. The La's were the genuine article unsullied by a marketing department's hand. Their album may be flawed in places but it remains a beautiful attempt at recapturing the glory days of distilled inventive pop. Look at the cover and imagine how their notions were firmly set in the present with one big eye trained on the glorious past.

Rating: 7.5/10

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