NME - 29th April 1989


ROCK FOLLIES

STONE ROSES
Stone Roses (Silvertone LP / Cassette / CD)

THIS IS Rain Parade at ease after the storm. This is Dream Syndicate going through a recurring nightmare. This is an aural Big Mac laced with psychedelic drill. This comes from Manchester and is made by people who think Levenshulme is a suburb of San Francisco. This is The Byrds after they've flown the coop. This is living proof that acid is good for you. This is quite good. Just.

There are plenty of people who would differ about this. Take the chap who, after chomping a hit of LSD-impregnated graph paper at a party last weekend, solemnly told me that this eponymous album was "The greatest record ever made". There again he thought he was having a conversation with Bugs Bunny at the time and I definitely don't have a tail.

There is, it must be admitted, something that elevates Stone Roses above simple retro-guitar blasts. Maybe it's the humour. You can't fail to clock the latter - it's apparent straight after the first song is ushered in by a noise which sounds like a dozen fish-heads being digested. The guitars reach for the clouds while Ian, with Beelzebub's bloodshot-eye staring out of his navel moans "I don't have to sell my soul / He's already in me / I wanna be adored." Stone Roses are not modest.

It's not all choppy riffola though, unfortunately. There are tunes, for example 'Waterfall', where the band try studiously to be blissed out that they are as inviting as a bathtub of purple jelly left over from the S*x*i*s. The latter's coda of backward noises merely reinforces the feeling that Stone Roses are occasionally stuck in a time and mindwarp.

Even so, despite the fact that they can't be bothered or can't afford to explore the possibilities for psychic disintegration made available by new technology, there is still something charming about Stone Roses their complete obnoxiousness. Anybody who can rhyme "imbecile" with "feel" and do a cover of 'Scarborough Fair' and change the lyrics to "Tear me apart and boil my bones / And her breast till she's lost her throne (Actually "I'll not rest till she's lost her throne" - Ed) / My aim is true and (Shouldn't be an "and" here - Ed) my message is clear / It's curtains for you Elizabeth my dear" can't be all bad. (7)

Jack Barron


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