Reunion albums, by definition, mark a new chapter in a band’s life—when nostalgic critical acclaim is superseded by a rather more discerning eye. Rarely, though, do these albums mark a genuinely new musical chapter. That makes Weather Diaries, the first album by Ride since they returned to the live scene in 2015, a rarity. It’s new but also different for Ride, with occasional moments of retrospection—like the harmonies that introduce “Charm Assault” or the kaleidoscopic chorus to “All I Want.” Ride mostly sounds like another beast on Weather Diaries—one that, for better or worse, exists firmly in the present.
Modern production touches adorn Weather Diaries courtesy of DJ and producer Erol Alkan. At times, these fit well with Ride’s dreamy appeal of the old, with the swirling synth lines on kraut-y album opener “Lannoy Point” underpinning the band’s airy guitar like a well-pegged tent. At others, notably the glitchy vocal effect that introduces “All I Want,” they prove a distraction, verging on an annoyance. Earlier this year, Dirty Projectors showed that modern pop production can work with what is ostensibly guitar music, but the intro to “All I Want” lacks any electronic finesse. The result sounds tacked on and frankly unnecessary.
As “Lannoy Point” demonstrates, 2017 model Ride are also willing to dip their toes into new genres, with occasionally impressive results. “Integration Tape” is two and a half minutes of My Bloody Valentine-indebted guitar drones and echoing vocals—a logical extension of Ride’s more cottony guitar moments—while album closer “White Sands” throws the doomed harmonies of 1970s Beach Boys and staccato jazz rhythms into the mix. These are solid songs in themselves, though they could possibly better suit Mark Gardener and Andy Bell’s post-Ride careers.
Elsewhere, the band’s experimental tendencies run the risk of suffocating the beautiful harmonic bombast that made Ride so special in the first place. These are the moments when Weather Diaries proves most frustrating. “Cali,” for example, squanders a soaring verse, complete with a brilliantly nagging guitar line, on a curiously understated, half-spoken chorus that feels naked without the band’s characteristic harmonies. “Rocket Silver Symphony,” meanwhile, is exactly half a great Ride song, a wonderfully strident chorus sharing space with a weakling verse that lays bare the underwhelming melody.
Ride, famously, have a history of reinvention. Their second album, 1992’s Going Blank Again, saw the band sharpen the sound of their 1990 debut Nowhere into a guitar pop titan that reeked of self-assurance. Their third and fourth albums, 1994’s Carnival of Light and 1996’s Tarantula, dropped the guitar wash in favor of a more psychedelic—and dare we say Britpop?—sound. In the end, this proved their undoing: Ride ended up referring to their overlong (if actually pretty listenable) third album as “Carnival of Shite,” according to David Cavanagh’s Creation Records’ history My Magpie Eyes Are Hungry for the Prize. Tarantula was deleted from Creation’s catalog one week after its release, to the dismay of approximately no one.
With this ignominious history behind them, you can only salute Ride’s bravery in trying to reinvent themselves once again. And Weather Diaries actually has enough individual moments over its 11 tracks to suggest that new Ride could work. But these are sadly surrounded by too many wobbles, missteps, and poor decisions to make the case for Weather Diaries as a great comeback album. Weather Diaries is no Tarantula-sized affront to Ride’s legacy, but neither is it a Going Blank Again-style triumph of reinvention and focus. Weather-wise, it is an overcast day with a hint of sun: promising but never quite satisfying.
