The Moon and the Melodies is a collaboration between the
Cocteau Twins and keyboardist/composer Harold Budd that fits soundly between
the stylistic signatures of the two, both of whom make organic music that
relies heavily on electronics. Budd's use of spacious treated piano and
keyboard sounds (influenced by a previous collaborator, Brian Eno) combines
with the Cocteau Twins' shimmering waves of guitars and Elizabeth Fraser's
layered wordless vocals to create what amounts to a soundtrack to a dream about
sleeping, with saxophones courtesy of Richard Thomas (of the now defunct Dif
Juz) breathing further life into the music. Too bland to be the best
introduction to the music of either, but a welcome addition to the collections
of fans of both.
The Moon and the Melodies is actually credited to Harold Budd, Elizabeth Fraser, Robin Guthrie, Simon Raymonde, the album is nothing like I had ever heard before, or indeed have heard since. The record features eight songs: each side starting and ended with a ‘vocal’ track (i.e. the full band, plus Harold Budd), with two instrumentals in the middle. The album’s opening track, ‘Sea, Swallow Me’, for my money is the greatest track the band ever recorded. It begins with Budd’s otherworldly piano on its own and is soon joined by Guthrie’s beautiful guitar, Raymonde’s bass and Fraser’s unique vocal. Like many Cocteau’s tracks, the lyrics appear to consist of an unfamiliar, invented language, with words chosen for their sounds rather than their meanings. It is a cliché, but the vocals act as another instrument in their own right. The second track, ‘Memory Gongs’ is led by Budd’s ebbing and flowing piano work, coupled with ambient Cocteau’s sounds in what could be the most intoxicating track I have ever heard. To listen to it, even after many hundreds of times, is to disappear to another place. Where the first track could, minus Budd’s piano, arguably have fitted nicely onto another Cocteau’s album, the second totally belongs to this one. ‘Why Do You Love Me?’ has a similar make-up and also does not sound of this earth, while ‘Eyes Are Mosaics’ returns Fraser to the fold and would not have sounded out of place on the previous Autumn’s Tiny Dynamite or Echoes in a Shallow Bay E.P.s. It is a fine track, but the one on the album where Budd is least evident.
The Moon and the Melodies is actually credited to Harold Budd, Elizabeth Fraser, Robin Guthrie, Simon Raymonde, the album is nothing like I had ever heard before, or indeed have heard since. The record features eight songs: each side starting and ended with a ‘vocal’ track (i.e. the full band, plus Harold Budd), with two instrumentals in the middle. The album’s opening track, ‘Sea, Swallow Me’, for my money is the greatest track the band ever recorded. It begins with Budd’s otherworldly piano on its own and is soon joined by Guthrie’s beautiful guitar, Raymonde’s bass and Fraser’s unique vocal. Like many Cocteau’s tracks, the lyrics appear to consist of an unfamiliar, invented language, with words chosen for their sounds rather than their meanings. It is a cliché, but the vocals act as another instrument in their own right. The second track, ‘Memory Gongs’ is led by Budd’s ebbing and flowing piano work, coupled with ambient Cocteau’s sounds in what could be the most intoxicating track I have ever heard. To listen to it, even after many hundreds of times, is to disappear to another place. Where the first track could, minus Budd’s piano, arguably have fitted nicely onto another Cocteau’s album, the second totally belongs to this one. ‘Why Do You Love Me?’ has a similar make-up and also does not sound of this earth, while ‘Eyes Are Mosaics’ returns Fraser to the fold and would not have sounded out of place on the previous Autumn’s Tiny Dynamite or Echoes in a Shallow Bay E.P.s. It is a fine track, but the one on the album where Budd is least evident.
Onto Side Two and Richard Thomas from Dif Juz makes an
appearance (on saxophone) on the first two tracks, ‘She Will Destroy You’ and
‘The Ghost Has No Home’. While the former includes a subtle contribution on the
outro, on the latter (another epic instrumental) the saxophone shares pretty
much equal billing with Budd’s piano. It doesn’t sound like it would work. It
does. Perfectly.
‘Bloody and Blunt’ is the album’s final voiceless track
and is also the shortest, based around a circular dreamy guitar riff from
Guthrie, while ‘Ooze Out And Away, Onehow’ brings back Fraser’s remarkable
voice one last time, building up and up until the drums unexpectedly kick in
for the last minute of the album to bring it to a euphoric climax.