There are sometimes albums so magical, so transformative that when it comes time to write about them, as a music critic, I find it challenging to describe how immense it is. You don’t want to give away the magician’s secret, dissecting how it became the groundbreaking record that changed the course of the future of music and will surely inspire generations to come. Cocteau Twins’ Treasure is one of those.
My ’80s-obsessed parents, whose taste falls more in the category of A-ha and Duran Duran than the goth-adjacent, moody masterminds of the decade, didn’t show me Cocteau Twins. Instead, I found out about them in my early twenties through a colleague, and like many other music writers and musicians alike, discovering Treasure was like uncovering a trove of riches. Treasure is the type of album that’s made to absolute perfection, never to be replicated, with distinctive, ethereal vocals and ambient, atmospheric production. It’s that quality that is a blessing and a curse: it ruined every other album for me. No matter how much those who have been inspired by Treasure-era Cocteau Twins, from shoegaze greats Slowdive to modern pop marvels like Caroline Polachek, they don’t even scratch the surface of the brilliance of the group’s third album.
Treasure was made during a turning point for Cocteau Twins. The Scottish duo of vocalist Elizabeth Fraser and multi-instrumentalist Robin Guthrie had expanded, adding bassist Simon Raymonde to the mix, marking their first return to this configuration of the band since the departure of Will Heggie, who left following the release of their debut LP, Garlands. They played their first slew of shows in North America, having amassed a global following after their 1983 sophomore record, Head Over Heels. 4AD co-founder Ivo Watts-Russell wanted Brian Eno to produce Treasure, a move that felt fitting, given that Eno is the godfather of ambient, experimental rock. Eno declined the opportunity, deciding that the band didn’t need his input. His intuition was right. Not only did Cocteau Twins not need him, but much like him, they had become masters of their own domain, with rich sonic textures that pioneered dream pop.
Garlands was straightforward post-punk, with Fraser’s vocals not yet tapping into their signature, warbled style, leaving much to be desired. Head Over Heels gave glimpses of Cocteau Twins’ potential, as it saw Fraser beginning to manipulate her voice to sound like part of the instrumentation, adding texture to the guitar-focused tracks, but it’s in Treasure that she perfects this practice, proving herself to be one of the world’s most unmistakable vocalists.
While Head Over Heels displayed what Cocteau Twins were capable of, Treasure toned down the post-punk elements, realizing that what worked so well in Head Over Heels was Fraser manipulating her voice to sound otherworldly, as if she’s singing in a language only decipherable to herself, which the listener is invited to listen in on. Honing her vocal abilities in Treasure plays a big role in what makes the album feel so enchanting. Opening track “Ivo” (named after the band’s label exec) features Fraser acting as a fairytale creature, welcoming you into another realm. It’s composed with the delicate quality of Pyotr Il’yich Tchaikovsky’s “The Waltz of the Snowflakes,” as Fraser’s celestial vocals wrap around the swirling guitar, embracing in a trance-like dance. A similar approach is used in “Beatrix,” albeit with moodier, brooding instrumentation that evokes a haunting music box.
Most of Treasure‘s track titles are strewn with references to mythology and fantasy: “Persephone,” “Pandora,” and “Aloysius” among those. One of these is “Lorelei,” named after the German myth of a siren who lures under her spell and leads them to their demise. Fraser embodies the mermaid, enthralling listeners with her cooing, mesmerizing voice. Her layered, echoing vocals, simultaneously gossamer and bellowing, with breathy interjections—almost as if gasping for air while sinking—make this song one of the biggest triumphs in Cocteau Twins’ discography. It was the first song by Cocteau Twins that I fell in love with, one that I can trace the before and after of my life by, forever entranced under Fraser’s spell.
While Fraser’s vocals inspired countless musicians, Guthrie’s guitar playing has been just as influential. Listen to “Pandora (for Cindy)” and you can trace how his shimmering tones inspired contemporary indie acts such as Faye Webster and Beabadoobee. In that track, Fraser’s voice seems to mimic her then-partner’s chords, sounding like a layered guitar. It’s an astonishing track, one that sounds so serene yet complex that it’s difficult to grasp how the band landed on its brilliance.
When Cocteau Twins break up the ethereal sound with “Persephone,” the only guitar and bass-focused track on the album that goes for a more straightforward rock sound, it doesn’t feel jarring. It calls back to their post-punk beginnings, marrying those angstier melodies with the dreamy intonations that Fraser adopted. Its influence on Angelo Badalamenti’s “The Pink Room” from David Lynch’s Twin Peaks prequel, Fire Walk With Me, is apparent—making it even more of a shame that Lynch never collaborated with Cocteau Twins, as that would’ve been the perfect match.
“Donimo” sounds like it could have fit in Lynch’s world as well, with its severe synths recalling “Laura Palmer’s Theme.” To me, it’s easily one of the most powerful closing tracks in music history, featuring Gregorian-like looped chants over Fraser’s soaring vocals, reminiscent of medieval hymns. You feel the synths envelop your body, allowing you to embrace both the darkness and the light. The 6-minute-long track is an epic closer to a mesmerizing album, one that the landscape of music would suffer tremendously without. While Heaven or Las Vegas, released five years later, went on to become Cocteau Twins’ most renowned album, it’s Treasure that cleared the path to the band becoming one of the most influential groups of all time.
Tatiana Tenreyro is Paste‘s associate music editor, based in New York City. You can also find her writing at SPIN, NME, PAPER Magazine, The A.V. Club, and other outlets.
