SONGS THAT SAVED MY LIFE #11 - WON'T YOU COME ON DOWN TO MY...

My unadulterated love of music in (nearly) all of its many diverse forms has guided me through some dark and lonely times, whether indulging or lifting me out of them, and no bands music has quite done it like that of Echo & The Bunnymen. That slightly mystical touch of "otherness" that their best songs have, expressing itself through the holler and croon of Ian McCulloch and his unusual, often opaque lyrics that simultaneously manage to be bleak, self-doubting, and dark yet all the time reaching for the heavens: the angular, scything, resolutely anti-rock guitar playing of Will Sergeant, eschewing traditional chords and guitar solos in a endless quest to see what sounds he could tease from his instrument: and, in their first incarnation, the elastic, inventive and fucking GROOVY bass and drums of, respectively, Les Pattinson and the late Pete de Freitas. Nothing they've done since, together or apart, has ever topped that.

My first introduction to the Bunnymen was around 1997. I'd heard a couple of their 80's hits like "The Cutter" and "The Killing Moon" on Radio 1's "guess the year" morning section whilst plodding my way around an unremarkable and dull warehouse job. I didn't really know anything about them until they reformed that year and released their first album with the original line-up (nearly: de Freitas sadly died in a motorcycle accident in 1989) since McCulloch quit in 1988. Evergreen was a fine album, full of stirring and orchestrated melancholic indie rock, previewed by the huge top ten hit "Nothing Lasts Forever". It's not bad, but it was nothing compared to what i discovered next. Following the success of their reformation, their old record company put out Ballyhoo: The Best of, which i snapped up, eager to hear just why this band were so revered. I wasn't disappointed: containing all their charting singles plus a few album tracks, it had me transfixed. From the rubbery bass, jagged guitars and pleading vocals of "Rescue", through the surging "The Back Of Love" and "The Cutter", and the majesty of "The Killing Moon", to the sparkling pop confections of "The Game" and "Lips Like Sugar", it was one surprise after another. It would be a few more years before i would delve into their albums though, as i was consuming so much music at the time - old and new - that my attention pinballed from one band to the next on an almost daily basis. Even my all-time heroes Madness were getting scant attention at this point! It wasn't until 2003 that i rediscovered their music, when i chanced upon their first 5 albums in FOPP, which had be re-released as part of the bands 25th anniversary, bonus tracks, liner notes and all. Not taking the chronological route, i picked up their third, 1983's Porcupine, first. A moody, cold masterclass in dark psychedelic tinged post-punk, full of confusion and doubt, it was a dark choice to begin my education in their music. But that suited my state of mind in the dark months to come. The album does have its brighter points: the soaring strings (provided by Shankar) on several of the songs, most notably "The Cutter", which their first top ten hit, and percussion such as the glockenspiels on "My White Devil", adding another layer of rhythm. The dark mood of the lyrics is countered by the surging, often frantic feel of the songs. "The Back Of Love" and "Clay" are full of breakneck guitar stabs and rolling drums, The title track is a dense, bleak epic of hazy guitars and queasy stalking rhythms. Towards the end of the album the fog begins to clear, with the more upbeat "In Bluer Skies".

Well and truly hooked on their music now, i snapped up their 4 other eighties albums. Their 1980 debut, Crocodiles, is full of jagged, primal punky energy, and the one where their Velvets/Doors/Elevators influences are most obvious, hitched to driving rhythms and brooding lyrics of despair, sorrow, and horror that are still somehow full of ambition and a desire for fame - "Ain't thou watching my film" (Going Up) is the opening lyric of the album. The spiky pop of "Rescue", the dynamic garage punk of "Monkeys", "Crocodiles", and the tumbling "Villiers Terrace", through to the apocalyptic "Happy Death Men" (which features a Will Sergeant screaming solo, apparently at the frustration of recording the album!) - all thrilling.

Their second album, 1981's Heaven Up Here, is my joint favourite with Ocean Rain (1984), although that's in strong competition! A more rhythmic, percussive collection of songs with a bit of a Talking Heads influence, it contrasted McCullochs' melancholic, angst-ridden lyrics with a soaring, passionate and more anthemic feel, angular guitars and a powerhouse rhythm section. Music for the raincoat brigade to dance to, especially on "With A Hip", the headlong rush of the title track, and the funky likes of "It Was A Pleasure". Elsewhere there were darker moods: the brooding synth-tinged "Over The Wall", the tumbling drums and flutes on "All My Colours", and the existential blues of "The Disease". The joyful and funky"All I Want" closes the album on a lighter note.

The fourth album, Ocean Rain - described in the promotional ads as "The best album ever made" - is a swooning, romantic, orchestral jewel of celestial magnificence. Strings swoop and soar over mic'd up acoustic guitars, brushes, percussion, and the odd bit of piano, creating a sound that is warm but cavernous, as if it were recorded in the very caves on the album sleeve. McCulloch croons and wails through a tapestry of rich gothic and romantic imagery, singing of starry skies hung with jewels, golden views, and crystal days on a dark, mysterious collection of songs, including the majestic classic "The Killing Moon", "Seven Seas", "Crystal Days", "My Kingdom", and the brooding title track which grows from a hushed beginning to a massive climatic swell, McCulloch giving his voice full flow.

I also bought the self-titled fifth album (1987), released after a years break and protracted recording sessions. It's an overly produced collection of mostly unmemorable songs, save for the shimmering "The Game" and the tumbling "Bedbugs And Ballyhoo", far too reliant on keyboards and lacking any of the bite of their previous work. Within a couple of years McCulloch had left to pursue a less successful solo career, sticksman De Freitas was killed in a motorcycle accident, leaving Sergeant and Pattinson to continue with a new lineup, to no success. Thankfully, the surviving members of the original band reformed in the mid-90's, and i was able to see them play live. They've since released several new albums, some good, some not so much, and won a new generation of fans. But nothing beats those first four long players, eight sides of otherworldly and incandescent genius.