Sebadoh
Bubble & Scrape

THE REVIEW

Cut the crap, if you like Indie Rock and don't know this album, then you don't like Indie Rock. "Bubble & Scrape" remains to this day one of the cornerstones of the American independent production of the early '90s, one of those albums that have the credit of opening the doors to new ways of conceiving the song form, without being pure experimentation. The album is composed of a handful of seemingly unpretentious songs, which sound like they were recorded by someone suffering from tinnitus and constantly play on moving from noise to melody, so much so that on first listen, it’s unclear whether you’re facing a masterpiece or an immeasurable dud (or a third option that's hard to define...).

The peaks, in qualitative terms, are represented by "Happily divided" - an acoustic ballad with sonic accents dedicated to the happy loss of a love ("I'm so excited, we're happily divided."), "Sister" - where Barlow, accompanied by dissonant guitars and a splendid circular riff, openly declares to his sister ("Sister, oh sister, who told you these lies?..."), "Sixteen" - a rough and no-frills transgenerational fresco capable of resisting the temptation to become a perfect rock song but able to lose itself ("I'm standing here and still I cannot hear you..."), "Homemade" - the vocal line repeated verse after verse leans on the perfect weaving of guitars and rhythm, to accompany this bitter anthem to masturbation ("I may let my fingers roam, Juicing free on my holy bone..."), "Flood" - it is impossible to find another album with a final track like this one, violent and insolent, it echoes Hard Core spreading panic and energy ("I don't feel a thing, Except all the joy in the world..."). How else can you explain the unique and irresistible mix of an album full of energy and indolence that is "Bubble & Scrape"?

Let's say if it were a dish, it would be a duck in orange sauce soaked in mascarpone, served with a highly carbonated Royal Crown, naturally at room temperature.