The critical scorn that greeted Bush when they emerged with their debut album
Sixteen Stone
in 1994 was in inverse proportion to their actual success. This motley bunch of
Limey refugees from Transvision Vamp and Midnight (who they?) steamrolled over grunge’s gatekeepers to the tune of six million sales in the US.
That opprobrium seems ridiculous today. Bush may not have bought anything new to the party, but nor were they grunge chancers or Nirvana copyists. This 30th-anniversary vinyl reissue – retooled as a double vinyl in a range of cooly lurid colours, with a modified front cover (silver instead of orange) – showcases a band who balanced melodic nous with some properly gnarly noise. The big hits (Everything Zen, Machinehead, sawing slowburner Glycerine) still sound great, but it’s the lesser-remembered tracks that stand out, not least the challenging, atonal Swim (boldly dropped two tracks in) and tremendous closing track Alien. A pre-celeb Gavin Rossdale strikes the perfect balance between huskiness and howling angst, while veteran Madness/Dexys producers Clive Langer and Alan Winstanley bring just the right amount of gloss to the sound.