Blind Melon
Soup

THE REVIEW

The grunge era was one characterized by splendor and contradictions, especially after the explosion of "Nevermind." The Majors and Mtv were all in on a series of names connected to the dominant Seattle universe, both in offering a vigorous and robust guitar sound and in the unkempt and flannel look (Pavement would soon write a song, “Cut Your Hair,” poking fun at this).
Blind Melon were among the bands dragged into the grunge bandwagon in '93, although traces of the famous Nirvana-Pearl Jam style were hardly found in their sound: a highly accentuated melodic taste spicing up the guitars and the classic Zeppelin-like fervor here and there. Their eponymous debut was propelled to million sales by the astounding success of the “No Rain” video, although this work was not of particularly high quality. The flip side of the show business is always lurking around the corner. Their second album “Soup”, released in 1995, when no one cared much about grunge anymore, wasn't as fortunate, partly due to the lack of an equally effective single.
It’s a pity because “Soup” was truly an intriguing work and certainly deserves reevaluation. The American quintet unleashed in the 14 tracks a variegated roots-rock that easily evaded the déjà vu traps in the American context of the period, reconnecting with personality the southern rock of Lynyrd Skynyrd and the alternative age of Jane’s Addiction.

“Galaxie” was the first single, a powerful and impactful track but with a sinister melody in the background. Certainly a step forward compared to the cleverness of “No Rain”. In the same vein, we find successful Zeppelin-esque grooves like “Dumptruck” or “2 x 4”, contrasted by quirky folk numbers like “Skinned”, or the superb midtempo ballads “Toes Across the Floor”, “Walk” and “St. Andrew’s Fall”, full of midwest rural flavors.
We didn't mention Jane’s Addiction by chance: Navarro's band cast its shadow over some of the best episodes of “Soup”. The Arabian “Car Seat” is truly enchanting in this sense, clearly reminiscent of “Of Course” from Jane’s Addiction’s “Ritual de Lo Habitual,” or “The Duke”, where Blind Melon painted exquisite Californian psychedelic frescoes, filtered through notable new wave sensitivity.

The singer Shannon Hoon was the heart of the band: he molded his sharp and fragile voice in a dense play of harmonic references and shaped the songs with his stories of drugs and discomfort – chasing a desperate redemption – magnificently expressed in music. Heart-wrenching elegies like “Mouthful of Cavities” and “Vernie” – further enhanced by post-roots guitar interweavings worthy of anthologies – stand to prove it.

Thus, “Soup” was the best possible testament – Shannon died a few months after its release, taken by the usual overdose – of one of the most genuine figures of the grunge season, besides being a work that still surprises and captivates with each listening.