"Not rinky dink, happy music"

>> Swervedriver has survived bad biz and others' buzz. But are they the last of the shoegazers?

by CHRIS YURKIW

It doesn't matter how thick American domination of rock music might get, or how thin the British output might be at a given time. There's always a spot in the heart of even the most Amerindie of rock pigs that gets soggy when confronted with the Brit (pop) twist, or softens when feeling that the grass must somehow be greener over on the Jolly Ol' Isle.

Like during the early 1990s, when amid the American monsters of rock like Dinosaur, R.E.M. and Nirvana there did roam at least one British variation on the form that helps place a group like My Bloody Valentine on Top 10 lists for the decade. Some snappy Yoo-Kay journalist called it "shoegazing."

It was sheet upon sheet of sheer guitar maelstrom, floating sap-pop vocals, volume ad tinnitus, and groups with names like Curve, Slowdive and Swervedriver. Oh yeah, and a rabid introspection that led practitioners to just stand on stage, curl over their guitars, hide their faces with mops of hair, and give the impression that they were, um, gazing at their shoes.

The sound storms and anti-star stance were a little unusual coming out of Britain but had an obvious affinity with the American scene, and to this day there are folks still waiting for The Next My Bloody Valentine Album® (it's been seven years) and clutches of North American fans who attend Swervedriver shows to shout out requests for obscure album tracks.

"It's not rinky dink, happy music," says Swervedriver guitarist-vocalist Adam Franklin, his dreadlocks yet another sign of a more rockist, American take. "People are more into it here in North America and Australia as well, whereas in England our currency is low. And the fans that we do have here are quite obsessive. I think a lot of people don't like us because we never appear to get any bigger, but that does create a cult sort of crowd."

Stylistic tides aside, there's another reason that the Swervedriver has been stuck in second gear: they were dropped by both of their previous record labels, Creation and Geffen, in a most unceremonious manner--mere weeks before two of their albums were to be released. Their third record Ejector Seat Reservation (1995) was never put out in North America, and 99th Dream is their "new" album although it was recorded for Geffen back in 1996. The London-based, Oxford-bred band has found a new home these days with, fittingly, an American indie label in Zero Hour, and 99th Dream finally saw the light of day this year. Overcoming all this adversity just might be why Swervedriver are perhaps the last of the shoegazers--My Bloody Valentine and Kevin Shields' studio stamina notwithstanding.

"Yeah, perhaps that's the reason why we've had the motivation to carry on," says Franklin, "to do something else."

Indeed, Swervedriver are not some kind of small and recently demised dinosaur, and over the years they've slowly retooled their swirling whirl into stuff that resembles pop songs. They probably wouldn't admit to any concession to Britpop, but the song "These Times" from 99th Dream could be an Oasis number--right down to the whiny vocal. And the facile association with Radiohead (also from Oxford) isn't entirely off the mark musically: 99th Dream sees Franklin experimenting with analogue synths and theremins, and he says that the future might hold more of a "futuristic" sound for the band.

"People say to us that they're really glad we're still using guitars while everyone else is going electronic," says Franklin, "but the stuff we've been playing with in soundchecks these days is all looped up."

Swervedriver play Café Campus this Sunday, May 31


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This document was created Thursday, May 28, 1998. ©Mirror 1998