The Automatik

Any discussion of 80s music will undoubtedly include names like Madonna, Duran Duran, Michael Jackson, Prince, U2, Public Enemy, and Guns ‘n’ Roses, as well as one hit wonders and less mainstream bands; the decade was, after all, the genesis of “alternative music.” One band not frequently mentioned, however, is the Cocteau Twins, probably because they don’t sound stereotypically 80s. Although the 80s were the decade of the music video and the Cocteau Twins did make them, they were never a true “video band.” Nor were videos even necessary to appreciate their music; it is impossible not to be inundated with fantastical mental images when listening to them. The incredible album art, designed by 23 Envelope, certainly helped in that capacity.

Many afternoons and weekends were spent holed up in my room listening to the Cocteau Twins and brooding. After all, I was a teenager; it’s what they do. But I stopped following their music around 1990s Heaven or Las Vegas and they broke up about eight years later. Tired of relying on my scratchy vinyl and threadbare tapes, I started acquiring their CDs in the late 90s when I realized how much I had missed them. I am continually delighted at how fresh their music feels, perhaps because they were and are so difficult to categorize. And unlike the output of many other bands from that time, their music does not seem dated now.

Too ethereal to be rock, but too bizarre to be pop, perhaps the best label for them was their home for the better part of the decade: 4AD, an indie label fostering other odd musical specimens like Colourbox, The Wolfgang Press, Clan of Xymox, and Dead Can Dance. Yet the Cocteau Twins sound like none of those bands and I can think of no one else who has successfully captured their incredibly unique and undeniably engaging sound, much less tried.

They were formed in Scotland in 1979 and featured guitarist Robin Guthrie and bassist Bill Heggie, who left in 1983, and was replaced by Simon Raymonde. However the band is perhaps best remembered for the incomparable vocals of Elizabeth Fraser, and if you’ve ever heard the Cocteau Twins, you’ll understand this perfectly. Fraser wasn’t so much singing lyrics as channelling emotions, from light-hearted whimsy (“Sugar Hiccup”) to bittersweet melancholy (“How to Bring a Blush to the Snow”), from the heights of pure joy (“Those Eyes, That Mouth”) to the depths of darkness (the entire Garlands album). However, Fraser’s vocal accomplishments should not take any accolades away from the musicianship of Guthrie, Heggie, or Raymonde, who provided marvellous and magical sounds of their own.

When I was a teen I was convinced Fraser’s strange babblings were the result of multi-lingual talents, but after reading an interview in which she insisted she was singing in English I was stunned. Fans of the band (including me) would just make up their own lyrics to the songs when singing along—unsuccessfully, for Fraser’s range was unattainable to mere mortals. Imagine Kate Bush on a particularly wild tangent, and you’re getting close. Even the song titles stretch the conventions of language: Pearly Dewdrops’ Drops, It’s All But An Ark Lark, Millimillinary, and Oomingmak, to name but a few.

Despite the aforementioned interview, I never knew much about the band’s personal lives or their process for writing and recording; thus, they’ve remained somewhat enigmatic and elusive. However, the music of the Cocteau Twins speaks entirely for itself; it evokes such strong feelings and memories in me, that I can’t imagine my musical past (or present) without them.

The Allmusic.com entry on Cocteau Twins

Cocteau Twins FAQ
(Fans of the Lord of the Rings trilogy may recognize Fraser’s unique vocals in “Lothlorien” and “Isengard Unleashed.”)

Cocteau Twins lyrics can be found here under the “Treasure Chest” section