The Sundays
Reading, Writing & Arithmetic
(1990, Rough Trade)

 

Reading, Writing & Arithmetic

Few artists have come to operate with the distinctiveness and the complete indifference to passing mainstream fads in the manner of The Sundays. Their unstoppable rise to indie idolism in the late eighties/early ninties was always a breath of fresh air amidst the hopeless baggy and dance movements of the U.K. scene in those days and the ever financially driven American market. Anyone who becomes aquainted with  real alternative music will at some point find themselves hearing of The Sundays and anyone with taste will find themselves eagerly buying their albums, particularly the debut, 1990's Reading, Writing & Arithmetic. Released on prestigious U.K. indie label Rough Trade, it is a spright, high-flying dose of ethereal guitar melancholia set to energetic, youthful  rhythms and lamenting, care-free/cynical lyricism. Harriet Wheeler's gorgeous sorprano is high, yet in no way faint or fragile, rather a mighty instrument of beauty. The album opens with the most unorthodox piece of music on the record, "Skin & Bones", driven by cascading guitar riffs, a shuffling rhythm and an almost meandering vocal delivery from Wheeler, then glides effortlessly into the beautiful, lamenting pop gem "Here's Where the Story Ends".

With a unique, but certainly hummable melody and achingly melancholic acoustic guitar strumming over a solid rock beat, Wheeler's glistening croonings of love lost are completely original. This is not your typical heartbreak song, 'Oh I never should've said/The books that you read/Were all I loved you for'. The third track, "Can't Be Sure", is most likely one of the most interesting songs to come from the past fifteen years. The entrancing effect of Wheeler's gentle, bittersweet  lullaby 'And though  I can't be sure what I want anymore/It will come to me later' over the slow-paced, shuffling rhythm is utterly consuming. David Gavurin's echoing guitar deplore reveals a knowledgable and accomplished Johnny Marr influence. "Hideous Towns", with its intense, stop-start rhythm, is delivered beautifully with Wheeler's pouty, soaring vocal line and Gavurin's agile guitar jangle. The mourning comes back with "You're Not the Only One I Know", which drifts softly and sadly into the upbeat "A Certain Someone". This cut builds, into the frenzied, passionate line 'You'll never believe what we found/We figured it out/We figured it out'. The album draws to a close with the triumphant, glistening "My Finest Hour", in which Wheeler powerfuly proclaims 'poetry is not for me' and ends on the downtbeat, drifting and sorrowful "Joy". Overall the album has a feel of tightness between a four-person unit (David Gavurin [guitar]; Harriet Wheeler [vocals]; Paul Brindley [bass] Patrick Hanna [drums]) and glorious and fresh melodic sense. Endless praise to The Sundays.

Back to Reviews
The Impryan Emporium