Revolver - Baby's Angry

Not an album so much as it is a rejigged compilation of the band's early singles on the Hut label -- and not a complete one at that, though only two tracks out of 11 are missing -- Baby's Angry is as good a collection of mid-tier, early-'90s shoegaze as it gets. In other words, it's not the end of the world, and definitely can't match the heights of the true geniuses working with the sound in general, but it's not a bad listen at all, either. Mat Flint's voice, though it often aims for the whole wounded choirboy approach almost too well, often has an attractive lightness to it that works when the music really cranks up. When he sounds more like he's in the Dentists than a band that followed Isn't Anything, he's at his best, as "Red All Over" in particular shows. Overall, when the band as a whole goes for energetic guitar pop with fuzz as opposed to endless cascades, everything really shines, and one can audibly note the band getting more interesting and energetic over time. "Venice" is a great example -- it's one of the most rocked-out tunes that the band created, and the layers of vocals Flint adds to its Pale Saints-meets-Boo Radleys surge works as a treat. Credit to Nick Dewey's drums adding some brisk punch, as he does on a good number of the songs -- "Molasses," the title aside, actually kicks along quickly on the verses and goes reasonably full-force on the break. Perhaps the most pleasant surprise is the one cover version included -- "Since Yesterday," the fluke U.K. pop hit from Strawberry Switchblade in the mid-'80s -- Revolver's version can't quite equal it, to be sure, but it's still a mournfully captivating treat.

Revolver - Cold Water Flat

More or less dismissed by the U.K. press as a 1991 animal (i.e. "shoegazing is dead and we never really liked these guys anyway") many might not notice the stylistic maturity Revolver shows now. The progression is announced right away on the opening "Cool Blue" with the much deeper (almost reggae deep) bass by Hamish Brown and those blaring trumpets. No longer content just blissing out with a standard, fuzzed-out guitar pop-tune about some girl we could care less about, each song here seems built on its own unique base -- for example, "Shakesdown" is just an acoustic strummed harshly more than banged, a wandering flute, and Mat Flint's voice. In some ways they do their cause some disservice by re-recording "Crimson," an older A-side inexplicably left off Baby's Angry. It is perhaps the band's finest old song, but it seems out of place among this much more interesting, singular collection. "Cradle Snatch" is as slithering as a snake, as cool as a cucumber, as unnerving as a lit fuse that never seems to explode. Oozing out over that heavy bass and the off-rhythm toms and congas (!!!) is a chorus in the making, and when it kicks in near the end after a period of silence, the effect is complete. Correspondingly, "I Wear Your Chain" improves on their old mold by adding loud plucked strings, more stop/start dynamics, a gripping guitar line, and some crisp rat-a-tat drumming from Nick Dewey. By the time it reaches the "Why can't you be with me?" chorus they've set us up to be knocked down, and the tumble feels good. That's how it's supposed to work, when songs gain a better complexity, and that's a perfect example of why this LP betters their past LPs. Cold Water Flat does have one minor but ever-present flaw: Flint's vocals are a little on the cloying side, as if he is trying too hard to curl the vowels into something more memorable, making Revolver a little drippy where their music is otherwise a hell of a lot more enervating. That aside, the end result is a strong album from a band many considered second division, a perception that is unfairly holding down this band's popularity. Will anyone listen long enough to see how they've grown?