The 1990s was a big decade for the Beatles. Aside from the brief ‘Anthology’ complementing sort-of reformation, you could feel their presence all over the UKs pop music. Britpop modelled itself on the Fab Fours mop-top mod image and Oasis in particular fooled a nation into believing they were The Beatles natural airs. The truth as usual was far more complex; Oasis in fact pedalled a brand of lad-rock far closer to 70s Rolling Stones or even Slade than any of the pop finery The Beatles ever offered. Those ‘All You Need Is Love’ string sections Noel Gallagher was so fond of didn’t make such a strong case for me. The Beatles were always all about great melodious songwriting, musical inventiveness and most of all diversity. By the later albums a rocker, followed by a baroque flavoured ballad, then some psychedelia and even a dash of 1920s kitsch could all easily sit on the same side of an album. A good number of acts were ploughing this versatile furrow but, predictably, it wasn’t the bands shouting the loudest in claim of that achievement who actually managed it.
Crowded House were one band who did. In much the same way as The Beatles, they’d enjoyed big hits with tunes like ‘Don’t Dream It’s Over’ and ‘Weather With You’ that pushed all the right commercial buttons in a very uncomplicated, easy on the ear manner. But they too were developing musically and by this, the album of their career, they’d mastered the art of the intelligent, ambitiously crafted and executed pop album to perfection. ‘Together Alone’ is pretty much the Crowded House masterpiece. It’s a record that flows with the unfolding musical narrative of a complete unified piece from start to finish. Starting with ‘Kare Kare’, an introduction that eases the album in like a long forgotten dream in the back of John Lennon’s mind all layered spacey production but propelled by some quietly groovy bass lines. It’s the start of a journey through dispatches of love and relationships in states of torment and rapture, often in the same song. ‘Distant Sun’ encapsulates this perfectly and remains for me one of the greatest love songs ever written. Neil Finn is singing from the perspective of someone who doesn’t pretend to know what the object of his affections wants but is rendered into a state of submittal by his feelings; a state of desire which you feel is only partially reciprocated. The anguish evident by the uncertainty he feels is blatantly apparent as Finn near enough breaks down in his delivery before pulling back to his default setting of just offering love. This is an incredible work that both reflects the anger of Lennon but also the reflective beauty of a McCartney love song.
Everywhere you look there’s stuff to cherish. ‘Locked Out’ is an out and out rocker with an infectious hook. ‘Private Universe’ takes the listener and its subjects to a place where “it feels like nothing matters”. Here too there’s evidence of another strong influence, that of Peter Gabriel. It’s in the atmospheres, the textures of those choppy layered guitars and sustained notes, played for mood rather than dazzle very much in that David Rhodes or Daniel Lanois idiom you’ll hear on Gabriels albums. There’s more than a suggestion of World Music to some of the drumming too. This is music built to last; to this day I’ve only got to utter the words “I don’t feel too well” for that gorgeous aching mandolin figure from ‘Pineapple Head’ to play in my mind, before the swirling lift of the chorus part raises my spirits. That’s the trick that Crowded House pull off here time and again, the hope. Anyone can wallow in melancholy or misery but to effortlessly temper the mood with swathes of optimism, not many can pull that one off with such ease. ‘Nails In My Feet’ is another reflective relationship study with an aggressive electric guitar part in the middle that changes in a flash to a temporary beautiful resolution; “and it brings me relief” indeed. When the album closes on the title track, with a chorus of what sounds like an African chant (another Gabrielesque touch) resolving the previous tension on a celebratory note, the only reaction is just to pause and consider what an amazing piece of work this is. Then listen to it all again; this is music that pulls the happy/sad, major/minor strings of the musical language with awe inspiring dexterity.
Essex Boy Rating: 10/10
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