Ride Nowhere Sire, 1990 amazon

It's odd for me to make the statement that Ride's 1990 debut masterpiece Nowhere is the "best album ever made. Period." Because, as my old Cal friend and chem lab partner Annice will tell you, i made the bold claim during an all-night organic chemistry study session in 1993 that it sounded like "bad metal". What a difference ten years makes. Actually, it didn't even take that long, by 1997 i was already ridiculing myself for making such a blasphemous declaration. Call me a young, brash music snob. Whatever. As i told Veronica recently, the only way i'll go to another festival is if Ride reunite. Seeing frontman Mark Gardener play a solo acoustic set in Boston was one of my all-time concertgoing highlights. Anyhow, despite serious competition from the sophomore effort Going Blank Again, Nowhere remains Ride's pinnacle. Andy Bells' Byrds-like jangly guitar swirls over Loz's whirlwind drum attack on the opener "Seagull", while Mark creates an underlying washed-out guitar haze to couple with Steve Queralt's five note bass progression. This is a brilliant band taking advantage of mixer Alan Moulder at the height of his powers. "Kaleidoscope" follows with more of a sixties tinge, and then we find ourselves in the midst of the incredible triumvirate of "In A Different Place", "Polar Bear", and "Dreams Burn Down". These gems are striking in their simplicity, particularly "Polar Bear" as its emotional resonance is derived in large part from Loz's cymbal-laden bass drum line, placed right at the front of the mix. "Dreams Burn Down" floats through a Ride trademark melody over a wall of guitar, occasionally punctuated by a three second chainsaw of guitar, bass, and drum noise. The second side of the record includes the anthemic "Vapour Trail", a song i spent weeks trying to figure out how to play on guitar. This is followed by what is truly one of the most perfect pop creations ever assembled, "Taste". Airy vocals loft above another infectiously simple Andy Bell melody, while Steve drives the song forward with a four note bass line and Loz goes friggin nuts behind the drum kit. The album closes in a darker vein with the ominous "Here And Now" and the noisy title track. The album speaks to me about the transience of everything, but its brilliance ensures that it does not share that instability.

floating like a smoke ring, it cannot be regained
now it's touched, it's broken ... the taste just slips away

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