Lush
Split

THE REVIEW

Lush is the name of a cosmetics company founded in 1995 and present in Italy more or less since the late nineties. It spreads across the territory with small, unobtrusive shops, sporting green, yellow, and white signs; the cloud of fragrances escaping from its windows can be recognized from about ten meters away. I remember their forte was the colored balls to be thrown into the bathtub, some of which release extremely annoying little leaves that cling everywhere as you get out. But really everywhere. A couple of times, I found interesting gifts there in absolute lack of ideas, then ideas came to me later imagining her body wrapped in the embrace of the soap I had chosen for her.

Split is a city in Dalmatia where I have never been, Italian for a short period with the name Spalato; the only thing I know is Via Spalato in Milan. Let's play a little with Alchemy, and combine Lush with Split: with the same surprise as seeing the Moon pop out from the union of Sky and Cheese, here's what happens if we combine soap with Spalato. It results in a monumental dream-pop album birthed in the mid-90s by a British band that rightfully defines itself as Shoegaze. Lush - Emma Anderson, Chris Acland, Miki Berenyi, Phil King - remained active for about a decade starting in 1987. Then, possibly overshadowed by the Lush of the colored balls, they decided to disappear down the bathtub drain, leaving scattered along the trailing and yellowish stream of dying water various encrustations that won't come off, not even with the strongest spray. Compared to their debut "Spooky," this second stone seems more solid, a continuous quest for perfection; their goal is to find the balance between the looming wave of Brit Pop that will soon flood the United Kingdom and the beloved shoegaze of Ride, My Bloody Valentine, Medicine. If the first side of the scale is weighted down by fast, simple tracks - but never trivial - to listen to as the bell rings for the last hour in a nineties school ("Blackout," "Kiss Chase," the single "Hypocrite," practically the entire first half of the album), it is the material placed on the second side to balance the account that proves enlightening: the ear begins to shine where Lush free their emotions at the expense of the radio aspect, giving birth to long, smoke-dense tracks, black and white desires and lit street lamps ("Desire Lines," "Never-Never"), aircraft carriers of sound ("Undertow"), a voice smothered by an avalanche of Noise Pop ("Starlust"), slaps in 4/4 ("The Invisible Man").

It's a dual soul of Emma Anderson, punk fairy and pop witch, always able to keep her voice in an ethereal dimension, observing from above the mud and root-laden ground built by her instrumentalists. And whenever she wants, she throws a rainbow over it, stopping only on one note. Three albums for Lush, "Lovelife" will follow shortly, then the soap ball will break into small independent fragments. All things considered, "Split" will be the one that sells the least.