Who names a genre "shoegazer"? History tells us that some British journalist coined the phrase because the genre's early bands were more inclined to stare at the floor than to make eye contact with the audience. This was likely caused equally by years of torment from their schoolmates and the insane amounts of heroin they were on. Of course, that's just how it used to be done. These days, shoegazers are more likely just entranced by the rad bowling shoes they rescued from a thrift-store bargain bin. But really, who names a genre "shoegazer"?
Now in its 16th year (it's widely agreed that the shoegazing big bang occurred with the Jesus and Mary Chain's 1985 debut, Psychocandy), the genre's undergone some intense facial reconstruction. The self-pitying gloom has been switched with sunshine, the sunglasses-at-night were exchanged for love, and the band that started it all dropped a few members and regrouped as Freeheat. Yet, like the vampires that so inspired those early bands, the alabaster face of the genre remains untouched by the ravages of time.
The New York (by way of Michigan) trio Mahogany have found a common ground where old and new shoegazer fans can live together in both suicidal misery and perpetual contentedness. It's called The Dream of a Modern Day. The record blends the downcast, dreamy sounds of early Lush and the Cocteau Twins with optimistic string sections, subtle drum programming and the sunny vocals of singer/cellist Allysa Massais.
Originally released on Clairecords in late 2000, the record has just been freshly reissued with the Darla label's spiky stamp of authenticity. As it should be. Mahogany are a Darla band all the way, from the whirring U of MBV guitars to band founder Andrew Prinz's dense, reverb-laden production. But where so many other xFC-shoegazer groups are content to pile layer upon layer of effects and instruments on their DATs and bask in the white-noise result, Mahogany have clearly spent hours behind the mixing board, perfecting the levels for a glimmering sheen that reflects both the dirtier elements of 80's bliss-out and Dave Fridmann's recent work with Mercury Rev and the Flaming Lips.
The Dream of a Modern Day begins with "Movement I," a half-minute clip of a droning string quartet that's unexpectedly interrupted by the "Copacabana"-style drum programming that opens the album's first song, the beautiful "Chance." Prinz's production immediately impresses as the song bursts outward, spewing ride cymbals, glowing strings, and jangly guitar. Massais' graceful, silky vocals effortlessly ricochet up and down the musical register, intoning unintelligible lyrics delivered as though they were crammed with infinite wisdom.
Elsewhere, "Soleil Radieux" fires off rounds of complex machine-gun percussion which are absorbed by a thick velvet curtain of orchestration; the ethereal "Vista-dome" pairs pounding kickdrums and showering cymbals with a mournful, ghostly melody and a downpour of violins; the stark "Red Marrow, His Sorrow" is stripped to its rawest form, with only a shimmering, repeated guitar line and Massais whispering, "It's the marrow deep red/ It's the soil richly black/ It's the winter sun bleak white/ Inside of your coat warm gray." But the biggest surprise comes with the closer, "Synchromie No. 1." Slickly automated thumps gradually give way to crashing drums and crescendoing, kaleidoscopic symphonies while guitars submerge themselves in a drony netherworld. When the track's lush bombardment of beauty winds down, and the disc stops spinning with a final whir, the silence is somewhat unsettling.
The Dream of a Modern Day would be a pretty outstanding record, even if created by the hands of seasoned studio vets. That only a small handful of EPs precede this band's debut full-length is seriously cool, and seems to promise great things for their future. If you've worn down the grooves on your old Catherine Wheel and Curve records and are looking for something more current, I point you in the direction of this fine album and suggest you become transfixed by a pair of cheap sneakers.
