Review:

on 2011-03-27 CharlesMartel Said:

Of all the British bands which arose and fell during the eighties which were fronted by female vocalists, the Sundays perhaps managed to combine the essence of femininity, conveyed by the vocals, and the inherent masculinity of the guitar better than any other. On the one hand, the Cocteau Twins distorted the vocals to the point of meaningless incomprehension, the vocals becoming merely another instrument. On the other, Everything But the Girl (to name but one) stripped away the power of the guitar to a point where it merely became a folk music instrument accompanying a voice. The Sundays went neither way. They combined some of the most sublime jangle pop guitars you will ever hear with a voice which was pretty much unique.

How far the Sundays might have got if Harriet Wheeler had not sung in a style so girlishly sweet, I don't know. But while David Gavurin's guitar style may have found echoes in other jangle pop bands, it was Wheeler who made the Sundays. Any look at the Sundays, who they were and the impact they had on British music at the end of the eighties and the beginning of the nineties, has to start with Wheeler.

The band's first album, "Reading, Writing and Arithmetic", came out at a time when the Smiths' inspired jangle pop was reaching a peak and the shift in focus of the independent scene was turning to the shoegazers. Britpop was not yet a twinkle in Suede's eye so independent pop music, if I can use such a term, still belonged to the jangle-poppers. And the Sundays were just the band for the moment. Wheeler's expressive, charmingly naive voice was matched perfectly with Gavurin's seemingly formless guitar melodies while the whole thing was underpinned by a rhythm section noted best for the perfection of its contribution through its economy.

And thus the Sundays formed what can only be described as a peculiarly English sound, but one which had near universal appeal. The trials of life ("Here's Where the Story Ends" and "I Kicked a Boy") mingle with the joys of love ("Joy" and "I Can't Be Sure") with occasional eclectic references, anchoring the music in its milieu, such as this one from "Can't Be Sure":

"England, my country, the home of the free
Home of such terrible weather"

Or, from "My Finest Hour", where that hour is described as:

"Finding a pound on the Underground"

What probably singled the band out more than anything else for attention was their sharp contrast with the almost oppressive moodiness of the times. The Smiths had turned feeling sorry for yourself into a fine art while the shoegazers were busy cultivating the impression of being surly, mopey young men and women with all the cares of the world on their shoulders. Yet none of it would have worked without impeccable pop credentials and that is where the Sundays scored big. They made pop music - catchy, unforgettable pop music - without losing their indie credentials. How many pop songs managed to get voted to the top of John Peel's annual year end poll as "Can't Be Sure" did in 1989? Not many, I'll wager.

It was perhaps for the best then that the Sundays were never able to recapture the moment. "Reading, Writing and Arithmetic" stands as a testament to the times and the band. Their follow up albums never achieved the same recognition as they failed to capture the same spirit. But if you have to make one album which people will remember for years to come, you couldn't do better than make "Reading, Writing and Arithmetic".
Rating: 8/10