Echo and the Bunnymen sit at the crossroads of music at a very crucial moment in time. They were equal parts punk, goth, and jangle all at the same time. In a lot of ways their music, and Ocean Rain especially, were enigmatic. It was both a result of their cultural environments and a root of the one to follow.
Hailing from the key industrial titan of Liverpool the band had reflected the city’s atmosphere in their music. Dark and doleful, with a hint of humor. The look and attitude of members Ian McCulloch and Will Sergeant, the only two permanent members, complimented both their sound and origins perfectly. Messy hair with layers of jackets to fit the rebellious scene and rainy weather of Liverpool. Echo and the Bunnymen’s career began in the late 70s alongside other macabre bands. Contemporaries like Bauhaus, the Cure, and Joy Division all hailed from the grimy and gloomy cityscapes of northern England. The band started at the perfect time for the gothic craze to sweep the country and trickle into the rest of the world.
After three albums each garnering more and more mainstream attention, the band was on track for a hit career. Despite their potential for stardom the band had become dissatisfied with their work, describing work on their third album Porcupine as a drag. Although they were happy with the results, the band was starting to doubt themselves. Ian McCulloch thought this called for a total shake up. Something to reinvigorate the band and daze the mainstream at the same time.
Work on their upcoming fourth album began in 1983, and with it came sweeping changes to the sound. For one, the band began playing around with more traditional acoustic instruments instead of the rock standard of electric. This was a big switch up, especially for a supposed punk band.
The band hired a thirty five piece orchestra to perform alongside them during the recording of Ocean Rain. Harkening back to the likes of Liverpool legends the Beatles and other 60s pop acts like their American counterparts the Beach Boys. The band’s goal to both create a lush soundscape and stun the music world were successful with the help of the orchestra. The backing strings are not just used as background noise to fill the mix, but an integral part of each song that makes each sound unique and special. From the broad violin strokes with brooding cellos bubbling underneath on “Silver” to the sinister strings hiding in the shadows of “The Yo Yo Man”, the orchestra covers a wide spread of timbres across the album. Alongside the clear and apparent inclusion of strings was the more subdued influence of psychedelia and the music of Asia. The psychedelic moments are more apparent on some tracks than others, like “Thorn of Crowns” for example with its swirling guitar riffs and unhinged staccato vocals. In a historical context Ocean Rain can be looked back at as a bridge between two ages of psychedelia, taking clear hints from acts of the past but leaving crumbs of inspiration behind for those later on.
Ocean Rain fits best while walking down a lonely city street during a rainy night. It’s gloomy atmosphere envelops you in a sense of mystery and suspense, unaware of your immediate surroundings. Your only guiding light being the streetlamps along the slick sidewalks. The sometimes deadpan and other times rapturous vocals of Ian McCulloch guide the listener through a cold world devised by the madmen of Liverpool. A world probably not too far off from their own. He sings of blind trust and faith, of hopeful days to come, and beautiful worlds not far away. He finds perverse beauty in a world of undoubtful misery, one filled with uncertainty yet simple elegance. As you could guess the lyrics can get quite poetic, providing vivid imagery of the macabre.
A clear and sharp dichotomy between the tone of songs. Much of Echo’s previous material was strictly gloom and gloom alone. On Ocean Rain they broaden their catalog of emotions, bringing them closer in line to the jangle pop groups of the time than their melancholic punk origins. “The Yo Yo Man”, “Nocturnal Me”, and “Thorn of Crowns” all inhabit the gothic side of the spectrum. Suspenseful, menacing guitars pop in and out of existence behind McCulloch’s Poe-esque lyricism. On the near opposite side lies songs like “Silver”, “My Kingdom”, and “Crystal Days”. If produced by a more fashionable band they might have been radio hits. And in between lies a host of sobering melodies. “The Killing Moon”, probably their greatest hit of all time, lays in this valley of emotion. A story of what wasn’t meant to be, coated with religious subtext and wistful vocals. McCulloch has even gone on record calling it the greatest song ever written.
There is a mangled beauty to Ocean Rain. Not pure sadness, but near it. A light at the end of the tunnel is visible, but you’re not quite there yet.
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