I wear your ring. (1990) – Cocteau Twins
As the true star of this show, Simon Raymonde’s bass glides in liquid suspension, floating over an ocean of droning synth, a synthetic reef of drum machine, and shallow crests of guitar, sliding from pillar to post with fluidity and impetus in dictating the chordal undertone. Elements augment each other in counterpoint, resolving harmonic tension in prismatic fission and fusion. Elizabeth Fraser’s voice is a species unto itself: rich—at times supernal—with a warm timbre that imbues her vocals with resplendence as it escalades and alights between alto and soprano in seraphic grandeur. The lyrics . . . oh, the lyrics are unimportant, especially since only Fraser knows what she’s singing. They serve their purpose in spurts, though—their intelligibility weaving in and out intermittently due to Fraser’s thick Scottish brogue, euphonic modules allowing glimpses of lucidity between waves of kaleidoscopic beauty.
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