The Smashing Pumpkins
Siamese Dream

THE REVIEW

The legendary eighties have recently been put away, there's already a craze for the new millennium, the stock market is at its peak, and the yuppies are sipping shaken Martinis. However, in the shadow of the Space Needle, there are still those sending out distress signals, screaming at the top of their lungs and making disruption a trademark. The city of Al Capone immediately echoes that, but with a completely different style. Unmistakable.

After the excellent debut album, unfortunately completely ignored by yours truly, the band led by Mr. Billy releases the album that, without a doubt, changed my idea of music. There's no going back. In fact, maybe I always was, or so I like to believe. Rock'n'roll.

Drums, then guitar, bass, and finally voice. And what a voice, nasal, but not too much, and angry just the right amount. With the cherub's rock, you've already understood everything, instantly. They know what they're doing, boy, do they know what they're doing. But it's already time to be silent, and never was a title more misleading. This piece, the only one with marked grunge contamination, I've always enjoyed. The big single arrives, melodic and melancholic, that no one knows how many times it has soothed the troubled moods of a teenager in crisis. The show must go on, and with Hummer and Rocket, the pumpkins don't diminish by a tone. Could there just be smashing hits? And indeed comes one of the most successful rock ballads ever, the final track of a compilation. Well done, guys. Now the pace has dropped, we all noticed. They’ve already gotten us used to precise changes of direction, meticulously planned. All of a sudden the rude awakening, the sky covers, a wall of sound advances and shatters everything. But then peace returns, the mayonnaise covers the flavors, they say. Here, instead, it enhances them. Raise your hand if you disagree! The space boy never captivated me, but what can you do, it's a matter of taste...we're almost at the turning point, a sharp turn is needed. And it's so, leaving one breathless, nine minutes of apnea. For me, the masterpiece could be considered complete, maybe I'm blaspheming, or maybe not.

Since that distant ninety-three, a lot of water has flowed under the bridges, but I have followed the river upstream. While racing toward the future, I was moving backward. And I started to understand. Thank you Pumpkins, in some way one must begin, and with you, I did it in the best possible way.

(This take, don’t give a fuck)