My Bloody Valentine – Loveless

Let’s talk about Loveless

Where were you when you first heard Bilinda Butcher’s angelic voice piercing the veil of Kevin Shields’ vreoow vreoow guitar assault? I was in a hideously tubelit fifty sq. ft. hostel room that smelt of yesterday’s sweaty clothes, realising I’d never forget this moment: the first time I heard Only Shallow. 

In most music-mad circles, there's general consensus on the seminal nature of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless and the archetypical position it occupies in the shoegaze canon. In fact, if you say you think it's not only the greatest shoegaze album, but also the greatest album ever put to wax, you'll likely face little resistance. Instead, you might face knowing nods and a begrudging acceptance of your refined taste in the sort of music that's both melodic and noisy. Someone in the room might compare it unfavourably to Slowdive's similarly genre-defining Souvlaki. They might ask if the bankrupting of Creation Records for the sake of Loveless was worth it, if the fraying of the relationships within the band was worth it. Someone else will point out that the damage to Creation was massively overstated and that relationships within the band were fraying anyway. But, broadly speaking, the idea that Loveless could be a serious person’s favourite album of all time will go mostly unchallenged.

Well, Loveless may not be my favourite album of all time, but it’s pretty close to the top. I don’t remember too many first listen-throughs as vividly as I do my first experience with Loveless. Bilinda Butcher’s may not be my favourite lead vocal performance of all time, but it’s pretty close to the top. There are few vocal performances as perfect as hers on Only Shallow and Come In Alone; in fact, Kevin Shields’s vocal takes on Sometimes and Soon are among the only ones I can think of that come close. Kevin Shields’s guitarwork in this album is the best I’ve ever heard. I’ve spent countless hours trying to make my electric sound like those guitars. Trying to make my acoustic sound like those guitars. Trying to make my voice sound like those guitars. Trying to make my keys sound like those guitars. Trying to make my footsteps sound like those guitars. Trying to make everything I’ve ever heard sound like those guitars. I imagine it’s what it must’ve been like to hear that old pirate’s guitar tone on (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction in 1965. It’s no exaggeration to say it must’ve been life-altering for many. Kevin Shields’s guitar tones on Loveless were life-changing for me. 

Let’s talk about me

Loveless is rather underrated as a breakup album. Few sounds encapsulate a breakup’s overwhelming assault of emotions, ranging from fear (mostly of the unknown and a descent into an all-encompassing loneliness that never goes away) to relief (mostly of having to deal with only 50% of the problems you had last week this week) to anger (so you’re telling me a serious relationship of over two-and-a-something years ends with one phone call that lasts twenty-and-a-something minutes and I’ve to be ok never seeing this person’s face again?). Maybe it’s Bilinda Butcher’s and Kevin Shields’s unintelligible vocals, which serve more as instruments than as a narrative device. Maybe it’s the production that treats each stem not as a separate instrumental that needs to stand out, but as one small part of a massive soundsiege. Maybe it’s the equal-parts-melody-and-noise nature of the compositions. Whatever it is, Loveless is not only arguably the best album ever recorded, but also arguably the best breakup album ever.