Exile on Mainline Street
David Quantick / NME
13.08.1994
13.08.1994
THE JESUS AND MARY CHAIN
Stoned and Dethroned
(Blanco y Negro/All formats.)
When you are the Jesus and Mary Chain and your life is willingly bounded by certain influences - let's rise once more from our orthopaedic chairs and shake hands with The Velvet Underground, The Stooges, The Ramones, The Beach Boys and new mate Lee Hazelwood - you will have a tendency to make essentially the same record over and over again. And, if you are the Jesus and Mary Chain, you'll make a pretty good job of it.
So, when the muse hits them for the fifth time, one thing is certain - an enticing mixture of ragga, jazz and folk will not result. Melodies will go up and down in a see-saw kind of way. The word "hole" will occur in the lyrics, along with "down" (which will be rhymed with "down"), inside and Jesus. There may be shouting, but not much. And so forth. The variety will come from other places - arrangements, instrumentation.
And so it is with Stoned and Dethroned. This time Jim and William Reid have made an album heavy with acoustic guitars, mid-tempo loping rhythms and even the odd harmonica. It could be Iggy Pop's country album or Bob Dylan's Lou Reed tribute. Certainly, the most common point of reference is the Velvets of "Jesus" and "I'm set free" melancholia rather than violence. It's a step away from the brothers' usual leather party and - generally - an effective one.
It's also a more emotional album than one might expect. The Jesus and Mary Chain never sounded terribly convincing singing their lyrics of death and drugs before, just sort of blank. Now there's a genuine conviction in songs like 'Save Me' ("I was wrong but don't hate me/I've been doing it for myself"). There's a strong theme here, curiously, of hope among the ruins. The final song, 'Feeling Lucky', sums up the mood of much of 'Stoned And Dethroned'; its lyrics, in their entirety, go "Feeling lucky/I've been feeling lucky/I've got someone who knows me/And she still wants to hold me". It's brief, simple and affecting; and it beats bollocking on about motorbikes and Jesus on a cross any time of the week.
There's also loads of this album, 17 songs (some of which clocks in at a nostalgic two minutes each), and a variety of acoustic-ish moods, from the reflective to the punchy (only a teenage Ramones fan could write a song called 'Come On' and get away with it these days). And despite the weights of songs, and the Mary Chain's addiction to a very small family of chords, 'Stoned And Dethroned' actually manages to sound varied.
And it would have been more so, it seems: attempts were made to get a variety of guest vocalists to appear. Lee Hazelwood nearly did, but got upset when he couldn't get backstage to meet the brothers at Lollapalooza; and the only singers on the album apart from William and Jim are Hope Sandoval, from Mazzy Star, and Shane MacGowan, from Hell.
Sandoval duets with Jim on the highly Nancy Sinatra/Hazelwood-esque 'Sometimes Always' and brings a suitable blank purity to the most affectionate and near-cheery song on the album. And MacGowan gives us the best vocal on the record, and the best vocal he's recorded anywhere since 'If I Should Fall From Grace With God'. Shane sings on 'God Help Me', a song with bleak lyrics like "I just can't take it anymore" and "I've been waiting too long to see the light". His vocal is immensely moving; it's also, oddly, both desperate and peaceful at the same time.
'Stoned And Dethroned', then: 17 songs, two miserable sods and their mates. It won't get you out of bed racing around the room throwing toys at your relations, but it's a splendid example of how a decade-old band can ring the changes in new ways. Another year, another Mary Chain album, another mood, another hit. (8) David Quantick
Stoned and Dethroned
(Blanco y Negro/All formats.)
When you are the Jesus and Mary Chain and your life is willingly bounded by certain influences - let's rise once more from our orthopaedic chairs and shake hands with The Velvet Underground, The Stooges, The Ramones, The Beach Boys and new mate Lee Hazelwood - you will have a tendency to make essentially the same record over and over again. And, if you are the Jesus and Mary Chain, you'll make a pretty good job of it.
So, when the muse hits them for the fifth time, one thing is certain - an enticing mixture of ragga, jazz and folk will not result. Melodies will go up and down in a see-saw kind of way. The word "hole" will occur in the lyrics, along with "down" (which will be rhymed with "down"), inside and Jesus. There may be shouting, but not much. And so forth. The variety will come from other places - arrangements, instrumentation.
And so it is with Stoned and Dethroned. This time Jim and William Reid have made an album heavy with acoustic guitars, mid-tempo loping rhythms and even the odd harmonica. It could be Iggy Pop's country album or Bob Dylan's Lou Reed tribute. Certainly, the most common point of reference is the Velvets of "Jesus" and "I'm set free" melancholia rather than violence. It's a step away from the brothers' usual leather party and - generally - an effective one.
It's also a more emotional album than one might expect. The Jesus and Mary Chain never sounded terribly convincing singing their lyrics of death and drugs before, just sort of blank. Now there's a genuine conviction in songs like 'Save Me' ("I was wrong but don't hate me/I've been doing it for myself"). There's a strong theme here, curiously, of hope among the ruins. The final song, 'Feeling Lucky', sums up the mood of much of 'Stoned And Dethroned'; its lyrics, in their entirety, go "Feeling lucky/I've been feeling lucky/I've got someone who knows me/And she still wants to hold me". It's brief, simple and affecting; and it beats bollocking on about motorbikes and Jesus on a cross any time of the week.
There's also loads of this album, 17 songs (some of which clocks in at a nostalgic two minutes each), and a variety of acoustic-ish moods, from the reflective to the punchy (only a teenage Ramones fan could write a song called 'Come On' and get away with it these days). And despite the weights of songs, and the Mary Chain's addiction to a very small family of chords, 'Stoned And Dethroned' actually manages to sound varied.
And it would have been more so, it seems: attempts were made to get a variety of guest vocalists to appear. Lee Hazelwood nearly did, but got upset when he couldn't get backstage to meet the brothers at Lollapalooza; and the only singers on the album apart from William and Jim are Hope Sandoval, from Mazzy Star, and Shane MacGowan, from Hell.
Sandoval duets with Jim on the highly Nancy Sinatra/Hazelwood-esque 'Sometimes Always' and brings a suitable blank purity to the most affectionate and near-cheery song on the album. And MacGowan gives us the best vocal on the record, and the best vocal he's recorded anywhere since 'If I Should Fall From Grace With God'. Shane sings on 'God Help Me', a song with bleak lyrics like "I just can't take it anymore" and "I've been waiting too long to see the light". His vocal is immensely moving; it's also, oddly, both desperate and peaceful at the same time.
'Stoned And Dethroned', then: 17 songs, two miserable sods and their mates. It won't get you out of bed racing around the room throwing toys at your relations, but it's a splendid example of how a decade-old band can ring the changes in new ways. Another year, another Mary Chain album, another mood, another hit. (8) David Quantick
