More pop-infused than their debut, In Ribbons dives straight in there with the butterflying brightness of “Throwing Back The Apple”, its pillowing melodics stitched to a solid momentum, prising out some nice indulgent guitar moments.
This commercial swerve was quite a revelation at the time (for me at least) and I was kinda thankful the brooding angles of the next track, “Ordeal”, dirtied things back up again. Those screechy distortions that bat-wing into the melody are great, so is the solid kick of those drums. Ian Masters’ vocals floating the fray, breathing with an undeniable ease. His words clearly audible in the mix, but no less puzzling, like scribbled dream notes caught in the moment yet surprisingly singable.
Great to have this back out there, the pastel shades of the cover, its gristled fountain of intestines echoing the gentle and visceral lustre of the sounds inside. The typographical collage of the back, its shapes dancing in the eye like a hidden score. Always loved that subjective interlock between the sound and the arts 4AD fostered.Textures that envelop the delicate fracture that is “Thread Of Light”, introducing the tranquil vox of Meriel Barham who adds / added a new dynamic to the Saints’ sound amongst a jangled judgement of soft and spangled guitar. Later on, “Liquid” finds her voice turning sinister amongst My Bloody Valentine-esque blades – something she would continue to great effect on the Pale Saints’ third and Ian Masters-less Slow Buildings LP.
“Shell” finds a child-like Masters weaving a cryptic confessional to acoustic strum and cello, curling tidals let over to light xylophones. A This Mortal Coil moment that lingers, then slivers into the tightly wound and explosive “Hunted”, its shifting drum patterns and lacerating guitars feasting on in there – still excavating the necessary some thirty years later.
The glorious negatives of the previous track exorcised in the bleach white optimism of “Babymaker”, losing myself again to that melodious scourging guitar heaven, shimmer-cushioned in some inspired retractive calms. Calming moments like “Neverending Night”, another lethargically laced intimacy like “Hair Shoes” that sees that arched back of circling guitar and those country-esque flavours holding a candle to Ian’s vocals, dramatically splashed in a release of effects candy, the luscious “Featherframe” untangling to Meriel’s perfumed lilt. A totally confident burn, belying her session nervousness the sleeve notes reflect upon.
As with thirty years ago, I can’t fault this album, and the remaster adds a certain subtle freshness, captures the odd dynamics of the closing “A Thousand Stars Burst Open” that memorably burn in elliptical frets, nurturing the moment that raising melodic promise slams into those solid drums. Ian’s voice sycamoring from within that forlorn rub of strings: “In gravity’s memory”, he goes, “Staring and spinning” as the guitars spill overboard.
The sketch-like “Ordeal” still very much in the raw, its burgeoning magic yet to brew under the incentivised momentum of that metered percussive. The spiralling guitar / siren deliciousness of “Hair Shoes” here starkly haunting, disappearing into the fleshy kick of reverbed blows, its dirge-like drag giving me the repeat listen joys.
A tantalising taste of the creative process that also happens to include those limited edition brass band cover versions that I completely missed out on originally. Fan or not, this reissue is bloody vital.-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
