Swervedriver / 99th Dream by Sean Cameron Zero Hour You remember the heady early 90s, huh? After years of toiling in partial exile, the guitar returned as a potent creative force, both critically and commercially. The feedback kids jumped ship from indie labels and clubs to a brief flirtation with major labels and stadium tours. The American northwest spewed forth a triumvirate of punk-inflected metalheads, and even New York art-rockers got their shot as late-night television special musical guests. Even England got into the game with their shoegazer bands, skinny kids who ditched keyboards for fuzz and compression pedals. They may have had less hair than the Seattle bunch, but they tended to let it hang in their face as they stared at the floor during performances. Needless to say, this didn't fly on MTV, and while their flannel-clad counterparts reaped Billboard success, Americans audiences inherited a raging nationalism and all but slapped a stiff tariff on the 'gazers. They bought the bombast and in-your-face emotional screech of the grunge set, choosing to ditch the more subtle, psychedelic swirl of the Brits. So has the time for Swervedriver passed? Though the English have since returned to favor with American consumers, they are not bratty Britpop or shiny techno. The great auteurs of the shoegazer genre, My Bloody Valentine, remains MIA; Ride and Slowdive burned out. More to the point, does a band with Faulknerian bad luck -- dropped from their original label, releasing the follow-up to their most successful album as an expensive import, then dropped from a second label on the day their fourth album was to be released -- have the slightest chance in hell at making a viable comeback? Probably not. But Swervedriver may very well bring the shoegazing sound back to life. Re-signed in America to indie label Zero Hour, they may no longer be burdened by corporate expectation and thrive once again in semi-obscurity. The long delayed 99th Dream is at once a return to form and fabulous leap ahead for the band. They may never achieve the commercial heights of the since depleted American bands they paralleled, but they have a fair shot at sticking around longer. 99th Dream revels in all the trappings of the great shoegazer bands, as guitarists Adam Franklin and Jimmy Hartridge lay down layers of looping guitar noise, constructing a swirling mass of sound at once arousing and soothing. They now temper their drone, however, with a more overt pop core; finally looking up from the floor and abandoning the dark wallowing that made 1995's Ejector Seat Reservation such a bore. Thus, songs like "She Weaves A Tender Trap" and "These Times" achieve the ethereal hummability which the band has always hinted at. While sacrificing raw power, Swervedriver has crafted their most complex and memorable set of songs. The melodic shift allows the band to get away from oppressive power chord riffery. Single lines of noodly jangle permeate the trippy mini-epics "Electric 77" and "Stellar Caprice," adding a bright-eyed flair to the hazy surroundings. These little details make for a more introspective affair, no small feat in a genre marked by druggy head music. These are songs to watch a screen saver by, with thousands of colors melting into nothingness. Adam Franklin's voice is pushed more to the front of the mix, shimmering with a cool noblesse, especially on the flamenco-inflected "In My Time." The waves of sound pulsing from 99th Dream will easily entrance anyone enamored of pop and noise. Swervedriver will send you to sleep with a kiss, comforted by the fact that the string of bad luck is surely over.

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