I started this review about eight different times. One intro mentioned the superb Welsh doom band Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard. Another mentioned crystalline vocals. Still another contained a convoluted phrase about dream pop. Then there was the cringeworthy opening sentence about melancholy.
Because the thing is, this debut album from Eye is very difficult to pin down. It warranted all of the things written above because the band are linked to them all. Eye vocalist, guitarist and songwriter Jessica Ball is/was the bass player, then keyboard player, and singer in MWWB. And her vocal style is crystalline. This album contains elements of dream pop – and, it should be noted, a little bit of the container-ship-full-of-feathers (heavy but soothing) guitar tone which MWWB excelled at. And it is dripping with melancholy.
Ball herself describes the album thus: “It feels like all my influences and favourite styles have come together in this album. Shoegaze, doom, folk, dream pop… It’s a real mixed bag.”
We can’t argue with that. But in addition, we must let you know that it is very good. From the delicate synth-and-drum-machine opening of ‘Window’, the listener is let into a dimly lit world, where you don’t have to put on a mask of cheerfulness, it is OK to sit back and become a puddle of however the hell you want to feel.
The album was born of a few life-changing events: the global pandemic, a move to a new town and most poignantly, the stroke and subsequent recovery that MWWB guitarist Paul ‘Dave’ Davies is going through. Some of the songs reflect this tumultuous time – others were written long ago.
Even without the trauma of the past few years, Ball freely admits that she is “not one who is creatively motivated by positive feelings”. And it shows. But this is not a sad record, it is entirely comfortable in its own pensiveness. Take ‘The Other Sees’, a song ostensibly about love and yearning – but with the twist that all good things come to an end.
Or ‘In Your Night’, with the opening lyrics “you might think that I am in constant sorrow”. It isn’t asking for sympathy – it is defiant and revels in its loneliness. And it has a gorgeously fuzzy coda for all those wistful for MWWB-style riffage.
‘In the Sun Eternally’, however, is sparce, with a simple acoustic guitar riff over synth pads almost haiku-like lyrics about being “dragged into the light”. It segues nicely into ‘Respair’, which has shimmering guitars and a fuzzy synth background – a kind of Ibiza sunset chillout song for goths. It is gorgeous.
After the proto-doom of ‘Out of Sight’ and the tentative mood of ‘Stillness’ – a highly effective track which sounds wary at being recognised as a complete song – ‘See Yourself’ sneaks up on you in a big way.
First there is a riff with a Middle Eastern flavour accompanying Ball half-whispering “send yourself into the night”. Then the drums kick in and BOOM: A massive – like, MASSIVE – slab of guitar fuzz. How enjoyable it must be to play this live, stomping on the SF300 Super Fuzz pedal (or whatever Eye use) and watching everyone’s face melt.
The production, by Chris Fielding, the man behind the desk for MWWB’s last four albums, is perfect: the music sounds crisp, sonorous and spacious. The depth of the bass notes at the end of ‘In Your Night’ is sheer sorcery. And the quiet, vulnerable moments are treated with a light touch.
It is rare to come across an album – debut or otherwise – with such a disparate array of influences and yet sounds so coherent. It warrants being listened to from start to finish. Then listened to again. First you will swoon at the musicianship. Then you will indulge in its defiant melancholy.
