Three Monkeys Online Reviews

Best of - Luna

Being a virgin traveller in the Luna field, I am placed in many intriguing situations. Fascinating prospects pop up all around me, materialising in the shape of Dean Wareham's slickly intimate compositions. Now that he has thrown his cards on the table, should I surrender my Newcastle Brown Ale wall of defence and allow myself to be reeled in by his crew of timid shoe-gazers? The pendulum could swing either way, and with bands like Luna there is no quarter shown to fence sitters. Love 'em, hate 'em ad infinitum, make a decision and get with the programme or leave the rainy afternoon cappuccino battalion and return to regular manoeuvres.

Whatever the jury may decide on Luna as musical functionalists, no level of ambiguity can corrupt the fact that Dean Wareham is a wordsmith of a sky-high calibre, creating a tantalizing glimpse into the delicate environment of the mid ‘90s guitar pop scene to the left of the Atlantic. Cue misty eyed stares and hip-to-be-square sentiment shimmering from the next generation of middle class expressionism. Seattle gave us raw dirty axe-trashing in league with nihilistic prophets violently removed from the nightmare hundrum they were reared in. N.Y.C., always a Janus like construction site for the cooler than cool offered the emotionally redeeming prowess of getting intimate with William S. Burroughs beside a duck filled pond. Tomorrow afternoon replace The Naked Lunch with Ricky Nelson and Chistopher Boyce. Luna have a gigantic lucky bag of name dropping delights to work with, and everybody will get their share.

Stories behind the creation of Anesthesia and 23 Minutes In Brussels open up the dreamy alternative world Luna inhabit, and the uninitiated may have trouble gaining entry. These songs in full swing tend to revolve around a similar theme. Arguing that the band are not to everybody's taste is like saying Marty Morrissey is not exactly Michael O' Hehir.

In their defence, Wareham and Co. try to avoid the plodding angst-on-demand tabloid radio orientated dross that pseudo Indie chancers like The Cranberries, The Goo Goo Dolls, and the excruciating 4 Non Blondes, decadently sploshed around in, to the delight of their paymasters. When the band hit their definition of top gear, the results are spectacular. Tracy I Love You and Superfreaky Memories are songs which deserve to be blasted out from the highest mountain top. Hip poetry gels with the rhythm of a backing band ecstatic that their Svengali has given them permission to roam.

Where the album falls short, it tends to be focused around the predictable non threatening Stevie Jackson impersonations and guitars confused as to what purpose they serve. Every single song on display has the potential to become a masterpiece, as it cries out for more inventive arrangements and sweet luxurious vocal harmonies, but some songs just give up the ghost, fearing they have been abandoned in the bed wetting haze. When God invented guitars and drums, not everybody was expected to follow in the footsteps of Ritchie Blackmore and Gene Krupa, but a hint of passion somewhere along the line wouldn't have become a Gordian knot for Luna to eternally fumble upon.

Reputations are a mixed blessing. For Luna the effect is distinctly positive, as special guest appearances from Sterling Morrison and Tom Verlaine add the vital chunk of street-cred to these recordings. Trademark sounds from Morrison on Friendly Advice and Verlaine's deft touch on the fantastic opener Moon Palace give the non converts something extra special to chew upon. Verlaine is particularly in his element on a piece Wareham rightfully claims is one of the best he has ever written. When Luna are good, they are molten hot. Frank and sincere, their finest moments in league with The Sundays’ and Belle And Sebastian's most lauded Rites of Passage.

So why not invite budding stargazers to climb on board with their own ‘greatest hits package’. This CD does everything it says on the tin. Luna, I'm sure, have been through a whirlwind of ecstatic adoration to the lows of blunt rejection. A slightly contrived feeling of anti mainstream rebellion is portrayed in the mood of the band's photos, showing they're ultimately a content lot like the old draught horse set in his ways, rain or shine, happy to be here. For that at least, Luna deserve to be saluted.