Ride
Nowhere

THE REVIEW

The year was 1990 and in England, they were in the midst of the baggy fever, that short-lived but highly intense movement which had leading bands such as Stone Roses, Happy Mondays, Charlatans, and Inspiral Carpets; these groups later played an undeniable role in the evolution of the “Cool Britannia” of Albion pop in the mid-decade.

At the same time, however, a path was being forged, aided by the promotion that bands like Kevin Shields' My Bloody Valentine were beginning to receive. This new wave comprised bands that had learned from the noise lessons of the Jesus & Mary Chains and the late '60s psychedelia, reinterpreting these elements in a brand new way suited to the times of the acid house revolution and the new American guitar rock.
This “movement” was launched in the UK under the convenient name of “shoegaze” which, according to the predictions of the music critics of the time, was set to supplant the now exhausted baggy scene: the Ride, an Oxford group signed up with record speed by Creation’s Alan “big eyes” McGee, had already put these predictions into play with their debut album, which as often happens in rock history, secured itself a vital place in the evolution of English music over the past 15 years despite poor sales.

After the classic grind of singles and Ep (including “Chelsea Girl” and “Dreams Burn Down”), with “Nowhere” the Ride made it clear that they had gone beyond the simple compromise between the youthful restlessness of baggy and the autistic creativity of shoegaze, to propose a psychedelic rock where all these elements were used wisely to create a sort of undefined atmosphere, where the only recognizable thing was the alchemy of past echoes, disenchantment, anger, and beauty, managing to be deeply transgressive without ever giving the impression of losing control, in an unresolved emotional balance, like a castaway on the verge of drowning but managing to stay alive for now.
From this perspective, the initial austere and chaotic “Seagull” (which culminates in a hysterical ending), the rhythmic “Kaleidoscope” and the slow and melancholic “In A Different Place” represent the three keys of interpretation (which fit together in a thousand ways) of a sound always at the mercy of a crushing sense of apathy and fatalism which ends up giving an absolutely unique identity to each song: if for My Bloody Valentine or Swervedriver they talked about “cathedrals in flames”, to describe “Nowhere” one might refer to something fluid and flowing, a sensation already suggested by the beautiful cover, which uses dream pop to reach an undefined perception where the melodies, imposing yet not imposed, are nothing more than dust falling from the sky onto an ice-coated street where you slip, slip, slip.

Anyway, discussing this record track by track would only diminish it: “Nowhere” should be lived as an authentic experience beyond one's tastes and the inevitable comparisons that may come to mind (the dreamier Smiths, Syd Barrett, Dinosaur Jr, Cocteau Twins), because the only message from the music contained here is to let yourself go on a journey not inside yourself, but outside yourself, in search of a restless and liquid serenity.
Just naming the exceptional emotional peaks of tracks like “Dreams Burn Down” and especially the wonderful “Vapour Trail” (one of the most beautiful indie ballads ever made) is enough to highlight the status of “classic” of this work, suggestive and poetic in its apparent neglect, forgotten and unforgettable.

Unfortunately, the artistic fortune of Ride (who at the time of “Nowhere” were heavy drug users) ended with that debut: less inspired albums followed and the inevitable breakup, with leader Andy Bell, after attempting his luck by forming the insipid Hurricane #1, now turned bassist for Oasis and has among other things composed some of the best songs of the band from Manchester’s recent repertoire. Despite a still enviable present, the fact remains that for him and his Ride there was a bright future behind them.