Escaping the wreckage of Britain's derelict dream pop scene, Lush spent the first half of the Nineties redefining guitar rock on the flanges of the alternative mainstream. Led by forlorn guitarist-singer Miki Berenyi, the group combined minor-chord melancholy with a natural gift for studio ingenuity, transcending overindulgence with a stark combination of ringing feedback, lustrous strings and hazy guitar bursts.

On its recorded works, the quartet successfully shouldered stylistic affinities for artists as disparate as My Bloody Valentine, the Beach Boys and Phil Spector's mid-Sixties girl groups, establishing an untouchable corner in the Britpop sweeps. While assorted trends-of-the-week flitted by, Lush stayed true to its primary objective, undaunted by commercial inhibitions.

Lovelife, the groups fourth full-length disc, however, strays from the blueprint considerably. Crammed with contrasting ideas and insipid songwriting, it abandons the groups rare aural tapestry in favor of erratic indie-rock experiments. Lacking a thread of continuity, the album never seems to settle into a comfortable groove, wandering from noisy new wave numbers ("Ladykillers") to elegiac ballads ("Olympia") to mislaid filler ("Ciao!").

While the diversity and structural jolts may improve Lush's chances of scoring a chart hit, nothing on Lovelife has the enchanting wallop of "De-Luxe" or "Sweetness and Light." The band's gain is our loss.

[by Aidin Vaziri]

Lush follow up their Top 20 single, 'Single Girl' with this put-down of flash blokes. Let's see if the band's new-found pop sensibility works again.

Tracks

Two-track 7' vinyl (plus 'I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend'), three-track CD single (plus 'Matador', 'Ex' and 'Dear Me'), three-track second CD single (plus 'Heavenly','Carmen'and 'Plums & Oranges').

Any cop?

No. Back in the mists of time Lush were second-rate shoegazers, mere also-rans dwarfed by bigger and better talents like My Bloody Valentine and Ride. Now they're third-rate indie-pop, The Bluetones without the songs, Cast without the aliens, Sleeper without the gob. Which doesn't really say a lot, if you think about it.

Best bit?

For all the carping, the fact remains that Lush have an admirable sense of self-belief. Not as useful as a good song with decent lyrics admittedly, but better than nothing.

Worst bit.

Miki's voice. Always has been, always will be.

What else?

The b-side of the 7" is a cunningly-retitled cover version of the Rubinoo's 'I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend' (originally 'I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend'). I know. just what you always wanted.

How has this happened? Once, Lush could be relied upon to produce the most wishy-washy old flannel in pop. Now, it would appear that they've stumbled upon the concept of 'the tune', and there's simply no stopping them.

Dougal: This is great.

Ted: Yes, but I'm not sure I agree with the idea of ladies playing guitars. The weight of the guitars on their stomachs might make future pregnancies uncomfortable.

Dougal: They'd take them off, though, Ted. When they were, you know...

Ted: ...in labour. Yes, I suppose. But another problem occurs to me: if they're playing their guitars very loudly, they might not hear their biological clock ticking. That said, this is a great song. Very exciting. Even Dougal's started to dance!

Dougal: No. I want to go to the toilet.

Ted: Oh, right. Go ahead.

[I'd better just explain; Ted and Dougal are in a sitcom about three silly priests on a remote Irish island. It's kind of a cult in the UK.]

Shhh. Nobody calls Lush 'ethereal' any more. This tenacious four-piece, who've survived baggy shoegazing, the riot grrrl wars and will probably outlast Britpop, plough a heady pop path these days. There's no more spooky-trip falsettos, or floating away on oceans of ice-goth guitars.

So, who are the Lush of '96? Well, on cold analysis, they are - surprise! - a pretty mundane bunch. Stripped of the self-conscious brooding and aura of sweet mystery, we have a Lush whose lyrics revolve around boyfriend troubles to thrashy momentum, with requisite intensity, but little real inspiration.

They've roped in Man Of '95 Jarvis Cocker for 'Ciao!' and Miki and Sir Jarv indulge in a bit of Kirsty MacColl and Shane MacGowan verbal swordplay. But it's pale showing in the tune department, and struggling-for-wit lyrics render this a missed opportunity. Lush have certainly changed, but this isn't the development wanted.

5/10

[by Angela Lewis]