Hazel
Toreador of Love

Good times, those of my Erasmus in Belgium! The typical day I remember with the most pleasure was Saturday. We would get up late, at 3 in the afternoon: Friday night, after all, was dedicated to bar hopping in the carré of Liège, and we usually ended the evening in the "Spanish" enclave, among beer, sangria, and various delights, or in some room in the Home Ruhl waiting for dawn while listening to dEUS.
I would usually leave the house dazed, a bit like Lou Reed in "Perfect Day", or better yet, since I usually had alcohol in my veins, like my beloved Neil Young in "Tonight's the Night". I would walk through the streets of that cold city that I initially hated, but would eventually leave with tears.
A baguette with some junk to put in my stomach, buying the Gazzetta to see if there was any chance that Cagliari would avoid Serie B (we would end up last that year, instead: the future messiah David Suazo had just arrived from Honduras). And then I would cross the bridge over the Meuse and head into the picturesque district of Outre-meuse: there was my treasure island. A magnificent store of used CDs and vinyls, stocked like the best store in London or New York, thanks to the amazing musical culture of my Belgian friends.
I went to that shop almost every Saturday afternoon. Sometimes alone, other times with some friends. Luca, a golden boy but a die-hard fan of 883, who waited smiling for the moment to return downtown for another beer. Roberto, a savvy fan of U2 who patiently listened to my rants as an old connoisseur of Sub Pop's offerings. And especially Fabiano, a Celtic metalhead from Rome, blonde and long-haired: he also found a gold mine in that shop. Together we took advantage of the store's magnificent offer several times: 10 CDs for 200 francs, which at the time - academic year 1999/2000 - equaled twenty thousand lire. How many great CDs I got that way! Some I would wear out over time, like "Loveless," "Repeater," or "Xo." Others I listen to occasionally, and they bring those days back to mind: "Toreador of Love" by Hazel is one of them.

Hazel was part of that brood of groups developing in Portland in the early 90s, along with Elliott Smith's Heatmiser and the Pond. Groups inspired by the sound of nearby Seattle, and signed by Sub Pop once the roster of the historic label was raided by the majors. "Toreador of Love" was the debut of this trio: a happy and inspired album, reinterpreting the soft and jagged power pop lesson of the Feelies and especially the fellow citizens Wipers through the prism of grunge, without disdaining emocore hints. Pure and simple American rock, wrapped in a rough lyrical shell, and far from the glitz with which grunge was beginning to cloak itself. And a couple of memorable songs. "Everybody's Best Friend", a mid-tempo ballad that breaks the tension of the record halfway through, wrapped in a ruthless romanticism, akin to the best things by Nirvana. And the concluding "Truly": it begins with a bass line that seems stolen from Kim Deal, then explodes into a sensational guitar refrain. Something to make many glossy offerings of Strokes and Franz Ferdinand pale at once.
If you happen to spot this cover in a used CD store, give it some thought.