Swervedriver – ‘Mezcal Head’
While 1991 was the year of the guitar band, thanks to the rise of Nirvana and grunge alongside the pioneering steps made by My Bloody Valentine on Loveless, another outfit released a masterpiece that year, carving out a unique space for themselves that looks destined to be equally as timeless. This is the Oxford quartet Swervedriver, who, like labelmates My Bloody Valentine, have shown that Creation Records was still the most culturally significant label in the UK at the time.
Led by the searing duelling guitars of frontman Adam Franklin and Jimmy Hartridge, Swervedriver made good on the promise of their first smattering of EPs by releasing their debut album Raise in September 1991. It’s a masterwork combining noise rock, metal, hardcore and shoegaze influences into one pulsating mass already noted as one of the definitive records of the decade. Given the fanfare that their debut was met with, Swervedriver were under the traditional pressure from fans to follow it up with a sonic journey just as compelling. With their sophomore effort, Mezcal Head, they deliver.
While the record is without raw frenzied bursts like ‘Son of Mustang Ford’ and ‘Over’, it’s the more refined, lucid side of the band that they’ve taken up a few notches on the offering, proving it to be the perfect opposite side to the coin of Raise. The hypnotic glory of tracks like ‘Deep Seat’, with its meaty central chord progression, and the serotonin-imbued climax of ‘Sandblasted’ from their debut, is the thematic route the band have further delved into on Mezcal Head. That heavy dose of a surreal, sun-drenched America that has always been in their sound is pushed to the fore.
This more American slant is not a pretence either. Swervedriver have always been deeply indebted to the likes of Dinosaur Jr. and Sonic Youth. They have more stylistically in common with their transatlantic counterparts than they do the rest of the British shoegaze scene. Whether this be Adam Franklin’s clamorous flourishes on the Fender Jazzmaster or Hartridge’s on a Gibson Les Paul – a guitar inextricable from American rock – or the fact that the pair’s partnership is more muscular than most British bands from their scene put together, there are many things that evidence this point.
Furthermore, the intricate and inventive guitar interplays that made Swervedriver such a hot ticket when they arrived are still there. They’ve just been augmented. The extended jams remain, but on Mezcal Head, they are rarer. Therefore, they have a more significant impact by counterbalancing some of the more conventionally constructed tracks that see them strip it back a touch. Furthermore, if Raise was the sound of being off your head driving through America à la Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Mezal Head is the comedown. The weed, alcohol and hallucinogens have converged to create a more heady mindset than the amphetamine-soaked sound of its predecessor. It’s in less of a hurry, with the space expanded and a hint of Dick Dale-esque surf coursing through some of its stand-out moments.
Things begin with the familiar swagger of ‘For Seeking Heat’, a scintillating sucker punch that fast asserts that Swervedriver’s edge is not lost. The dovetailing between the guitars here is excellent, as Franklin conjures a tale resembling a successor to ‘Son of Mustang Ford’ and the group’s notable predilection for motoring in their lyrics. In the central line, the frontman sings: “Without this safety net you’re free / To find serene pleasure of speed”.
It then slowly melts away into what may be the album’s finest point, the single ‘Duel’. It commences with what will surely go down as one of Franklin’s finest creations on the fretboard: a teasing, picked melody that heavily implies that a thunderous crunch is quickly around the corner, a suggestion the band make good on.
“You’ve been away for so long / You can’t ask why”, Franklin cooly snarls at the start of the track before the chugging bar chord brings the rest of the group in. We also have that progression in the break, which propels the song forward at breakneck speed following the harmonious suspension of the verses. “One slip, and you tumble down,” Franklin warns us before the gloves are off and the blast ensues. A marvellous composition that dances between lightness and dark adroitly, ‘Duel’ is quintessential Swervedriver.
Another highlight is ‘Last Train to Satansville’. One of the moments where you hear the surf influences come to the fore. Again, it features one of the band’s most piercing riffs. Backed by a rockabilly-esque four-to-the-floor rhythm and bouncing bassline, Franklin’s work on the Jazzmaster is particularly impressive here. A locomoting piece that echoes the titular train, the frontman produces awe as he conjures an infectious vocal melody and plays a main riff and facilitating licks that drive themselves deep into the prefrontal cortex. Then, for the song’s second half, the train keeps rolling as Franklin and Hartridge assemble a hypnotic palette on top of the rhythm that is so good that you can’t help but wish it was longer. The way it fades out into almost animalistic noises is quite something. Has man become the machine? I wonder.
The highlight of Mezcal Head has to be ‘Duress’. Eight minutes of sonic majesty, it slowly builds on the back of an otherworldly beat that, thanks to the shake of percussion, conjures images of ancient mystical ceremonies held deep in the Central American jungle, a part of the world the record is associated with due to its title mentioning the traditional Mexican tipple. However, Swervedriver is the shaman in this profound trip into the mind.
The song slowly creeps into gear following the tingling melody Hartridge plays and Franklin’s emotive rolls on the wah-pedal, which sound like mechanical cries fuelled by regret as modern life takes its toll. When the main rhythm eventually throws off its cloak, Franklin is as frank as he’s ever been, with lines like: “Forget the lies that you’ve been told / You think you’re settin’ free your soul / But you’re really gettin’ old”. The words shine like the enlightening rite Swervedriver are throwing for listeners. There is a coolness to much of the wordplay, such as, “And when you wanna kill it dead / You let it throttle you instead”.
Of course, no discussion of the majesty of Mezcal Head would be complete without the utter splendour of ‘Never Lose That Feeling / Never Learn’. Fusing the surfy sounds of ‘Satansville’ with the headiness of ‘Duel’, like the former, it is the catchiest moment on the album, thanks to the chime of the guitars, Franklin’s vocal melody, and the warm swell of the bass that acts as the glue for all the elements. Another fine exhibit of how well Swervedriver intersect noise and harmony, you get the feeling that this, too, will go down as one of their definitive offerings.
As with almost all of Swervedriver’s best moments, this is not a typical song. Not long after the four-minute mark, it gives way to one of their finest soundscapes, ‘Never Learn’. Fully mesmerising, I’ve listened to this countless times while stoned and travelling home on various substances after a night out, and it’s always a treat. It slowly washes over you, teasing you that the trip might be about to take the wrong turn, thanks to some haunting saxophone courtesy of Stewart Dace and the unearthly, effects-drenched guitars. The reverb-heavy drum sound is another accomplishment here, conjuring much atmosphere on its own. An audio delight, it’s a testament to Swervedriver that words fail to capture the full magic of this one.
