Jenny Hval on 'Gala' by Lush Lush

Jenny Hval, on Gala –

I first discovered Gala at a record store in Oslo, possibly in late 1995 or early 1996. By then I was already a devoted Lush fan and had listened extensively to their Split and Spooky LPs. The 15-year-old me had played the Hypocrite EP to death on my CD player. Yet this album was a revelation: My first ever compilation LP, just as I thought I had understood what an album could be.

A compilation of three early EPs doesn’t necessarily sound very artistic. But this one is. As a compilation, Gala is more of an essay in music form than a unified narrative or sound. It is a collage, a puzzle, not just hinting at what was to come, but what could have been – different directions. The track listing contains two songs, ‘Thoughtforms’ and ‘Scarlet’, that had been recorded twice, something that blew my young mind, as if I saw a glimpse of the multiverse. Emma Anderson’s Thoughtforms was first recorded for the Scar EP/mini album in 1989, and then rerecorded for another EP, Mad Love, the following year. Listening to both versions allowed me to become a teen critic: I started to question why and how the second Thoughtforms was both sped up and amped up in Robin Guthrie’s Mad Love production. I finally decided I loved both versions, but preferred the first, because it was slower, sounded freer and deeper, and Miki Berenyi’s vocals were given more space. The comparison gave me a deeper understanding of Spooky, the album produced by Guthrie in 1992. It made me question, or perhaps dream, of what Spooky could have been.

This simple repetition of songs emphasises the adventurous nature of Lush. The distinct differences in production between the three EPs showcased on Gala creates a playful, disarming album pacing. It also pushes Lush beyond genre, beyond stereotypes of «shoegaze», and beyond the 4AD aesthetic of the iconic, colourful logos and floaty, wavelike patterns. In retrospect, the compilation becomes both documentary and dream. It is an overview of a band existing in a specific scene in a specific era, exploring their music’s potential like the different arms of a star.

In retrospect, my favourite songs on Gala are the opening trio of songs (Anderson’s ‘Sweetness and Light’ and ‘Sunbathing’, and the Anderson/Berenyi co-write ‘Breeze’), taken from the Tim Friese-Greene-produced Sweetness and Light. I adore Friese-Greene’s work, and the glittering guitars, voice harmonies and dynamics create a sublime sonic canvas. But production aside, these three songs present a striking, yet understated, expression of sensuality. The lyrics sometimes float by, then hit you with a striking image («Breathe in green velvet, my lips taste warm earth» on «Breeze»), and the vocal lines intertwine, call and respond, come too close to each other and move away.

I listen to these songs today as I listened to them in the mid-90s, and feel the same things touching me: The effervescence of the sun hitting my skin, drops of sweat and saltwater drying on my neck, the smell of a borrowed, unwashed t-shirt and wet sandals after a swim. I listen to both versions of «Thoughtforms» again and dive into layers of sparkly guitars. Gala is intimate, yet stargazing, intricate and romantic, almost punk but with soft dissonances. It’s early 1990s impressionism. Make it yours.