The Moon And The Melodies (2024 Remaster)
Remastered from the original tapes by Robin Guthrie and reissued on vinyl for the first time, 'The Moon and the Melodies' is one of the Cocteau Twins' most sublime sets, a blissful marriage of horizontal piano-laced ambience and glistening dream pop.
"It's not Cocteau Twins, and it's not me," Budd said in a 1986 interview, "it's an odd combination peculiar to the mixture." He'd never heard the band until bassist Simon Raymonde reached out to cover 'Not Yet Remembered' from his 'Ambient 2: Plateaux of Mirror' collaboration with Brian Eno. Although the cover never materialised, Budd was struck by the trio's music and after a meeting in Los Angeles, they began to consider a full collaboration. 'The Moon and the Melodies' appeared at a good time, Budd had recently released his syrupy masterpiece 'The Pearl', and Cocteau Twins had sailed further into abstraction with their beatless oddity 'Victorialand'. The album also marked the end of an era for Guthrie, Raymonde and Liz Fraser, catching them on the cusp of their later shift towards more identifiable pop, and integrating Budd's signature languid piano worked seamlessly. Just check 'Memory Gongs', still one of the most pristine entries in either act's repertoire - seven and a half minutes of rubbery, tremolo piano reverberations and muggy, billowing soundscapes.
But the big draw will no doubt be opener 'Sea, Swallow Me', a more recognisable Cocteaus cut that's had a new lease of life since it became a viral hit on TikTok, of all places. It's now one of the band's most recognisable (and most streamed) songs, and Budd's serene arpeggios take on a slightly different form when they're balanced with Guthrie's shimmering riffs, Raymonde's driving basslines and Fraser's soaring voice. The four alternate between proper songs and ambient reflections, as if they're each paying attention to each other's strengths while attempting to experiment. "It turned out like four songs that sounded like us and four songs that sounded like him, which wasn't really the plan," remembers Guthrie. And it's interesting that when it was originally released, the album was credited to each musician, rather than being listed as a Cocteau Twins album; indeed, Raymonde recalls that the sessions were enjoyably un-premeditated. "It captured a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together," he explains. "Really, that's the essence of it."
Elsewhere, Dif Juz's Richard Thomas plays sax on two of the album's most crushing tracks: the jangly, anthemic 'She Will Destroy You' and the cloudy 'The Ghost Has No Home'. The latter is one of the Budd-forward tracks, and stretches into the abyss with his piano fainting into Thomas's echoing horns and Guthrie's tempered, chiming guitar phrases. It's hardly surprising that the album marked the beginning of a collaboration between Guthrie and Budd that would eventually give us the iconic 'Mysterious Skin' soundtrack in 2005.
'The Moon and the Melodies' has never sounded better; it's aged well, pulling away from the expectations that caused some critics to misunderstand it when it emerged almost four decades ago, gradually establishing itself as a stylistic milestone in the years since.
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Remastered from the original tapes by Robin Guthrie and reissued on vinyl for the first time, 'The Moon and the Melodies' is one of the Cocteau Twins' most sublime sets, a blissful marriage of horizontal piano-laced ambience and glistening dream pop.
"It's not Cocteau Twins, and it's not me," Budd said in a 1986 interview, "it's an odd combination peculiar to the mixture." He'd never heard the band until bassist Simon Raymonde reached out to cover 'Not Yet Remembered' from his 'Ambient 2: Plateaux of Mirror' collaboration with Brian Eno. Although the cover never materialised, Budd was struck by the trio's music and after a meeting in Los Angeles, they began to consider a full collaboration. 'The Moon and the Melodies' appeared at a good time, Budd had recently released his syrupy masterpiece 'The Pearl', and Cocteau Twins had sailed further into abstraction with their beatless oddity 'Victorialand'. The album also marked the end of an era for Guthrie, Raymonde and Liz Fraser, catching them on the cusp of their later shift towards more identifiable pop, and integrating Budd's signature languid piano worked seamlessly. Just check 'Memory Gongs', still one of the most pristine entries in either act's repertoire - seven and a half minutes of rubbery, tremolo piano reverberations and muggy, billowing soundscapes.
But the big draw will no doubt be opener 'Sea, Swallow Me', a more recognisable Cocteaus cut that's had a new lease of life since it became a viral hit on TikTok, of all places. It's now one of the band's most recognisable (and most streamed) songs, and Budd's serene arpeggios take on a slightly different form when they're balanced with Guthrie's shimmering riffs, Raymonde's driving basslines and Fraser's soaring voice. The four alternate between proper songs and ambient reflections, as if they're each paying attention to each other's strengths while attempting to experiment. "It turned out like four songs that sounded like us and four songs that sounded like him, which wasn't really the plan," remembers Guthrie. And it's interesting that when it was originally released, the album was credited to each musician, rather than being listed as a Cocteau Twins album; indeed, Raymonde recalls that the sessions were enjoyably un-premeditated. "It captured a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together," he explains. "Really, that's the essence of it."
Elsewhere, Dif Juz's Richard Thomas plays sax on two of the album's most crushing tracks: the jangly, anthemic 'She Will Destroy You' and the cloudy 'The Ghost Has No Home'. The latter is one of the Budd-forward tracks, and stretches into the abyss with his piano fainting into Thomas's echoing horns and Guthrie's tempered, chiming guitar phrases. It's hardly surprising that the album marked the beginning of a collaboration between Guthrie and Budd that would eventually give us the iconic 'Mysterious Skin' soundtrack in 2005.
'The Moon and the Melodies' has never sounded better; it's aged well, pulling away from the expectations that caused some critics to misunderstand it when it emerged almost four decades ago, gradually establishing itself as a stylistic milestone in the years since.
Remastered from the original tapes by Robin Guthrie and reissued on vinyl for the first time, 'The Moon and the Melodies' is one of the Cocteau Twins' most sublime sets, a blissful marriage of horizontal piano-laced ambience and glistening dream pop.
"It's not Cocteau Twins, and it's not me," Budd said in a 1986 interview, "it's an odd combination peculiar to the mixture." He'd never heard the band until bassist Simon Raymonde reached out to cover 'Not Yet Remembered' from his 'Ambient 2: Plateaux of Mirror' collaboration with Brian Eno. Although the cover never materialised, Budd was struck by the trio's music and after a meeting in Los Angeles, they began to consider a full collaboration. 'The Moon and the Melodies' appeared at a good time, Budd had recently released his syrupy masterpiece 'The Pearl', and Cocteau Twins had sailed further into abstraction with their beatless oddity 'Victorialand'. The album also marked the end of an era for Guthrie, Raymonde and Liz Fraser, catching them on the cusp of their later shift towards more identifiable pop, and integrating Budd's signature languid piano worked seamlessly. Just check 'Memory Gongs', still one of the most pristine entries in either act's repertoire - seven and a half minutes of rubbery, tremolo piano reverberations and muggy, billowing soundscapes.
But the big draw will no doubt be opener 'Sea, Swallow Me', a more recognisable Cocteaus cut that's had a new lease of life since it became a viral hit on TikTok, of all places. It's now one of the band's most recognisable (and most streamed) songs, and Budd's serene arpeggios take on a slightly different form when they're balanced with Guthrie's shimmering riffs, Raymonde's driving basslines and Fraser's soaring voice. The four alternate between proper songs and ambient reflections, as if they're each paying attention to each other's strengths while attempting to experiment. "It turned out like four songs that sounded like us and four songs that sounded like him, which wasn't really the plan," remembers Guthrie. And it's interesting that when it was originally released, the album was credited to each musician, rather than being listed as a Cocteau Twins album; indeed, Raymonde recalls that the sessions were enjoyably un-premeditated. "It captured a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together," he explains. "Really, that's the essence of it."
Elsewhere, Dif Juz's Richard Thomas plays sax on two of the album's most crushing tracks: the jangly, anthemic 'She Will Destroy You' and the cloudy 'The Ghost Has No Home'. The latter is one of the Budd-forward tracks, and stretches into the abyss with his piano fainting into Thomas's echoing horns and Guthrie's tempered, chiming guitar phrases. It's hardly surprising that the album marked the beginning of a collaboration between Guthrie and Budd that would eventually give us the iconic 'Mysterious Skin' soundtrack in 2005.
'The Moon and the Melodies' has never sounded better; it's aged well, pulling away from the expectations that caused some critics to misunderstand it when it emerged almost four decades ago, gradually establishing itself as a stylistic milestone in the years since.
Remastered from the original tapes by Robin Guthrie and reissued on vinyl for the first time, 'The Moon and the Melodies' is one of the Cocteau Twins' most sublime sets, a blissful marriage of horizontal piano-laced ambience and glistening dream pop.
"It's not Cocteau Twins, and it's not me," Budd said in a 1986 interview, "it's an odd combination peculiar to the mixture." He'd never heard the band until bassist Simon Raymonde reached out to cover 'Not Yet Remembered' from his 'Ambient 2: Plateaux of Mirror' collaboration with Brian Eno. Although the cover never materialised, Budd was struck by the trio's music and after a meeting in Los Angeles, they began to consider a full collaboration. 'The Moon and the Melodies' appeared at a good time, Budd had recently released his syrupy masterpiece 'The Pearl', and Cocteau Twins had sailed further into abstraction with their beatless oddity 'Victorialand'. The album also marked the end of an era for Guthrie, Raymonde and Liz Fraser, catching them on the cusp of their later shift towards more identifiable pop, and integrating Budd's signature languid piano worked seamlessly. Just check 'Memory Gongs', still one of the most pristine entries in either act's repertoire - seven and a half minutes of rubbery, tremolo piano reverberations and muggy, billowing soundscapes.
But the big draw will no doubt be opener 'Sea, Swallow Me', a more recognisable Cocteaus cut that's had a new lease of life since it became a viral hit on TikTok, of all places. It's now one of the band's most recognisable (and most streamed) songs, and Budd's serene arpeggios take on a slightly different form when they're balanced with Guthrie's shimmering riffs, Raymonde's driving basslines and Fraser's soaring voice. The four alternate between proper songs and ambient reflections, as if they're each paying attention to each other's strengths while attempting to experiment. "It turned out like four songs that sounded like us and four songs that sounded like him, which wasn't really the plan," remembers Guthrie. And it's interesting that when it was originally released, the album was credited to each musician, rather than being listed as a Cocteau Twins album; indeed, Raymonde recalls that the sessions were enjoyably un-premeditated. "It captured a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together," he explains. "Really, that's the essence of it."
Elsewhere, Dif Juz's Richard Thomas plays sax on two of the album's most crushing tracks: the jangly, anthemic 'She Will Destroy You' and the cloudy 'The Ghost Has No Home'. The latter is one of the Budd-forward tracks, and stretches into the abyss with his piano fainting into Thomas's echoing horns and Guthrie's tempered, chiming guitar phrases. It's hardly surprising that the album marked the beginning of a collaboration between Guthrie and Budd that would eventually give us the iconic 'Mysterious Skin' soundtrack in 2005.
'The Moon and the Melodies' has never sounded better; it's aged well, pulling away from the expectations that caused some critics to misunderstand it when it emerged almost four decades ago, gradually establishing itself as a stylistic milestone in the years since.
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Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
Remastered from the original tapes by Robin Guthrie and reissued on vinyl for the first time, 'The Moon and the Melodies' is one of the Cocteau Twins' most sublime sets, a blissful marriage of horizontal piano-laced ambience and glistening dream pop.
"It's not Cocteau Twins, and it's not me," Budd said in a 1986 interview, "it's an odd combination peculiar to the mixture." He'd never heard the band until bassist Simon Raymonde reached out to cover 'Not Yet Remembered' from his 'Ambient 2: Plateaux of Mirror' collaboration with Brian Eno. Although the cover never materialised, Budd was struck by the trio's music and after a meeting in Los Angeles, they began to consider a full collaboration. 'The Moon and the Melodies' appeared at a good time, Budd had recently released his syrupy masterpiece 'The Pearl', and Cocteau Twins had sailed further into abstraction with their beatless oddity 'Victorialand'. The album also marked the end of an era for Guthrie, Raymonde and Liz Fraser, catching them on the cusp of their later shift towards more identifiable pop, and integrating Budd's signature languid piano worked seamlessly. Just check 'Memory Gongs', still one of the most pristine entries in either act's repertoire - seven and a half minutes of rubbery, tremolo piano reverberations and muggy, billowing soundscapes.
But the big draw will no doubt be opener 'Sea, Swallow Me', a more recognisable Cocteaus cut that's had a new lease of life since it became a viral hit on TikTok, of all places. It's now one of the band's most recognisable (and most streamed) songs, and Budd's serene arpeggios take on a slightly different form when they're balanced with Guthrie's shimmering riffs, Raymonde's driving basslines and Fraser's soaring voice. The four alternate between proper songs and ambient reflections, as if they're each paying attention to each other's strengths while attempting to experiment. "It turned out like four songs that sounded like us and four songs that sounded like him, which wasn't really the plan," remembers Guthrie. And it's interesting that when it was originally released, the album was credited to each musician, rather than being listed as a Cocteau Twins album; indeed, Raymonde recalls that the sessions were enjoyably un-premeditated. "It captured a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together," he explains. "Really, that's the essence of it."
Elsewhere, Dif Juz's Richard Thomas plays sax on two of the album's most crushing tracks: the jangly, anthemic 'She Will Destroy You' and the cloudy 'The Ghost Has No Home'. The latter is one of the Budd-forward tracks, and stretches into the abyss with his piano fainting into Thomas's echoing horns and Guthrie's tempered, chiming guitar phrases. It's hardly surprising that the album marked the beginning of a collaboration between Guthrie and Budd that would eventually give us the iconic 'Mysterious Skin' soundtrack in 2005.
'The Moon and the Melodies' has never sounded better; it's aged well, pulling away from the expectations that caused some critics to misunderstand it when it emerged almost four decades ago, gradually establishing itself as a stylistic milestone in the years since.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
Remastered from the original tapes by Robin Guthrie and reissued on vinyl for the first time, 'The Moon and the Melodies' is one of the Cocteau Twins' most sublime sets, a blissful marriage of horizontal piano-laced ambience and glistening dream pop.
"It's not Cocteau Twins, and it's not me," Budd said in a 1986 interview, "it's an odd combination peculiar to the mixture." He'd never heard the band until bassist Simon Raymonde reached out to cover 'Not Yet Remembered' from his 'Ambient 2: Plateaux of Mirror' collaboration with Brian Eno. Although the cover never materialised, Budd was struck by the trio's music and after a meeting in Los Angeles, they began to consider a full collaboration. 'The Moon and the Melodies' appeared at a good time, Budd had recently released his syrupy masterpiece 'The Pearl', and Cocteau Twins had sailed further into abstraction with their beatless oddity 'Victorialand'. The album also marked the end of an era for Guthrie, Raymonde and Liz Fraser, catching them on the cusp of their later shift towards more identifiable pop, and integrating Budd's signature languid piano worked seamlessly. Just check 'Memory Gongs', still one of the most pristine entries in either act's repertoire - seven and a half minutes of rubbery, tremolo piano reverberations and muggy, billowing soundscapes.
But the big draw will no doubt be opener 'Sea, Swallow Me', a more recognisable Cocteaus cut that's had a new lease of life since it became a viral hit on TikTok, of all places. It's now one of the band's most recognisable (and most streamed) songs, and Budd's serene arpeggios take on a slightly different form when they're balanced with Guthrie's shimmering riffs, Raymonde's driving basslines and Fraser's soaring voice. The four alternate between proper songs and ambient reflections, as if they're each paying attention to each other's strengths while attempting to experiment. "It turned out like four songs that sounded like us and four songs that sounded like him, which wasn't really the plan," remembers Guthrie. And it's interesting that when it was originally released, the album was credited to each musician, rather than being listed as a Cocteau Twins album; indeed, Raymonde recalls that the sessions were enjoyably un-premeditated. "It captured a moment in time between friends that are enjoying making music together," he explains. "Really, that's the essence of it."
Elsewhere, Dif Juz's Richard Thomas plays sax on two of the album's most crushing tracks: the jangly, anthemic 'She Will Destroy You' and the cloudy 'The Ghost Has No Home'. The latter is one of the Budd-forward tracks, and stretches into the abyss with his piano fainting into Thomas's echoing horns and Guthrie's tempered, chiming guitar phrases. It's hardly surprising that the album marked the beginning of a collaboration between Guthrie and Budd that would eventually give us the iconic 'Mysterious Skin' soundtrack in 2005.
'The Moon and the Melodies' has never sounded better; it's aged well, pulling away from the expectations that caused some critics to misunderstand it when it emerged almost four decades ago, gradually establishing itself as a stylistic milestone in the years since.