Delayed Reaction
Galaxie 500 were only around for four years. But in those four years, they found time to make three albums of glorious, hypnotic, shambolic, slightly-psychedelic indie-rock; languid, pretty, evocative records that later proved a blueprint for the slowcore movement, and, over 20 years on, are still charming listeners with their timeless prettiness. The best of these three was —and, more importantly, still is— 1989's On Fire, the second Galaxie 500 LP.
Capturing Galaxie 500's tender, swirling psychedelia at its best, On Fire echoes with a quiet, humble, wholly-imperfect kind of perfection. Recorded, like everything they ever did, by producer/svengali/bong-enthusiast Kramer, it finds a blossoming band given the full benefit of the studio.
Here, Kramer takes a nervous, tentative outfit blessed with but rudimentary punk-rock chops, and presents them in a light so flattering they sound epic, grandiose, and powerful. Galaxie 500 were, essentially, a melancholy pop-band lost in a daydreamy sound steeped in the Modern Lovers, Velvet Underground, Television, and The Feelies. But, when dowsed in Kramer's judicious use of reverb and echo, their sweet, swirling, psychedelic haze grew in size. And, with that, emotion.
More Sad Hits
Calling Galaxie 500 a 'psychedelic' act is misleading. Theirs is not an art fueled by drugs, one beholden to cosmic imagery or pursuit of 'groove.' Instead, sadness seems to be there, at their core; a melancholy burning with intensity, an emotional focus unwavering. Sure, Dean Wareham's fretboard work found Thurston Moore calling Galaxie 500's debut, Today, "the guitar record of 1988," but even Wareham's solos sound sad. Not to mention his voice.
In On Fire's "Isn't It a Pity," Wareham sings: "isn't it a pity/isn't it a shame/how we break each other's hearts/and cause each other pain." It's standard love-song sentiment, but the creaky mumurings of Wareham's faltering vocal make every syllable sound sincere; his throat seemingly clenching with the emotional burden he's confessing.
Galaxie 500's other emotional weapon is the bassplaying of Naomi Yang. Inspired by Peter Hook of Joy Division/New Order, Yang's approach to bass was wandering and melodic; she ringing unexpected, evocative parts from her instrument's highest strings. In "Snowstorm," whilst Wareham's voice and guitar back-and-forth on two chords swept up in washes of delay, Yang's playing rings out beautiful and clear, carrying the emotional tenor of the tune.
With "Decomposing Trees," the two come together perfectly: Yang's bass warm like sun-rays, Wareham's guitar milling like clouds, his voice falling like a sullen, lazy drizzle. It's an audio sunshower vivid and evocative; an intensely moving musical moment that stirs up sweet swirls of tender emotion, summoning the melancholic reverie of reminiscence.
Record Label: Rough Trade
Release Date: October 1989
