In the world of popular music, some artists attain greatness by defining a certain sound, while others do so through their ability to push pop music into new directions; a very few are able to do both. Throwing Muses, however, for the thirteen years of their existence, was notable for neither of these accomplishments. The band’s intelligent, often unsettling mix of modern rock and alterna-pop gained them admiration and respect, but somehow they never quite crossed over into the ‘alternative mainstream’, let alone the mainstream proper. And certainly, most people would be chary of admitting them into the pantheon of rock greatness.

Which just goes to show, really, how thoroughly most people miss the point a lot of the time, for there was always much more to Throwing Muses than appeared at first blush.

Although the band numbered four, it was, unsurprisingly, the two singer-songwriters, Kristin Hersh and Tanya Donelly, who took most of the spotlight: Hersh, prototypical alt-rock chick, grappling with her inner demons (and bi-polar disorder) through edgy, jagged, hook-laden rock tunes, and Donelly, child of the indie, writing irresistible pop melodies to balance Hersh’s darker vision. Between them, they carved out a unique sound, built on that tension between their disparate musical impulses, and although they worked with a well-worn guitar/bass/drums formula, the Muses’ career was characterised by a ceaselessly inventive subversiveness, much like sometime 4AD label-mates the Pixies.

So were they, after all, a great band? I think so, and if there’s one album in which they truly staked their claim to greatness, it’s 1991’s The Real Ramona.

Considerably more polished than anything the Muses had done before, The Real Ramona is kicked off by an abrupt, stuttering drum fill which is quickly subsumed by a wash of jagged guitars. The guitars in turn yield centre stage to Hersh’s melodic yowl – and somehow, within the first twenty seconds of the album, the band has already captured the essence of its sound. The song itself, “Counting Backwards”, develops into a characteristically disjointed-feeling pop tune, and makes a strong opening to the record.

It’s followed by “Him Dancing”, a spiky little tune which is over almost before it begins (clocking in at a little over a minute), and in turn gives way to “Red Shoes”, an unexpectedly pretty song in which Hersh’s voice is almost liltingly sweet – certainly one of the more immediately appealing songs on the album.

The grittier “Graffiti” is equally appealing, but if The Real Ramona has a weak moment, it’s probably the track which follows, “Golden Thing”, a heavily percussive affair sung by Hersh in a declamatory, almost haranguing manner reminiscent of John Lydon (of Public Image Ltd fame – and of course, once the lead singer of a little band called the Sex Pistols); while there is (as always) much to be admired about the band’s use of rhythmic and dynamic variation in this song, it’s not an easy one to love. Fortunately, though, the album quickly emerges from this brief cul-de-sac with “Ellen West”, a wonderfully angular, catchy tune which positively bristles with energy, and follows it with the beautiful “Dylan”, which, drifting on a mist of atmospheric guitars and half-whispered vocals, could almost have come from one of the quieter moments of a mid-period Cocteau Twins album.

However, this proves to be a brief interlude, for what comes next is the most intense – and possibly the best – song of the album, “Hook In Her Head”, a baleful, seething seven-minute epic dominated by an ominously pounding drum line, to which Hersh’s vocal, delivered in an unnerving, almost deadpan tone amidst a cacophony of wailing guitars, forms a perfect counterpoint.

Just as the pressure mounts to an unbearable level, though, the album suddenly changes direction again, and Donelly’s two contributions, the upbeat “Not Too Soon” and “Honeychain”, come flying out. At first glance, it might seem odd to position these two slices of exuberant, recklessly onrushing pop immediately after the darkly intense “Hook In Her Head”, but in truth, this seemingly odd juxtaposition is perfectly consonant with the band’s modus operandi – for, given that abrupt changes in tempo and rhythm are an essential part of the Muses’ songs, why shouldn’t that also be the case for their records as a whole?

In light of this, it’s not surprising that the mood again turns dark immediately after, with “Say Goodbye”, a churning, driving, oddly melodic sister to “Hook In Her Head”, but then, to close the album, Hersh and Donelly somehow conjure something entirely different again – sadder and more ruminative in tenor than anything which came before it, “Two Step” is simply lovely. Rather than buzzing and snarling through layers of distortion, as they do for much of the album, the guitars ring out clearly, and as Hersh’s ever-poetic lyrics swim in and out, and things unhurriedly spiral towards their close, this clarity – coupled with the simple grace of the melody – gives the song an almost elegiac air.

Well, this review has been surprisingly difficult to write, but that’s probably appropriate, for it’s precisely because of their difficult nature that Throwing Muses were great, and The Real Ramona finds them, although perhaps at their least difficult, completely at the top of their form. And that, I think, says it all.


Final rating: 9.1

Recommended: Yes