This is it. This is the one. If you blindfolded strangers in the street and asked them to pick the major label debut from its unbranded equivalents they would choose ‘Worlds Apart’ time and time again, without quibble or a request for another taste. They’d be wrong of course, but that’s not the point. ‘Source Tags & Codes’ might technically hold that position, but as scorching and intense a record as it might have been it simply made the whole affair sound a bit more expensive than ‘Madonna’. Here comes the spiritual holder – and that shouldn’t be taken as any kind of insult. ‘Nevermind’ was a major label debut remember, though neither should it exactly benefit from that association. The point is that ‘Worlds Apart’ reaches out and becomes more things to more people, and to itself. It’s an ambition realized and it makes sense that it should be.
For a band that made and retained their name almost exclusively out of rehashing old Sonic Youth melees it’s surprising that should be the place they start the great creative clearout. The influence lives on, with the instrumental intros of ‘Will You Smile Again’ and ‘The Best’ before they speed off elsewhere, in the light trudge of ‘A Classic Arts Showcase’, and in the continued grating, tuneless strain of Conrad Kelly’s vocals especially, but by and large it’s just residual traces left. You could say it’s either brave or stupid to do away with that which defines them, but at no point does it feel like the wrong thing to do. How could they have got away with only refining that blueprint album after album anyway? Sonic Youth can only get away with it because they’re Sonic Youth. Though that is no doubt the reason for some of the waves of undeserved hate spurting forth from reviewers around the globe right now.
There is however plenty that has swelled forwards to fill the vacant hole in their sonic cauldron, although granted it has been harvested and arranged with a good deal of control and a fair helping of refinement. The sheer size of it all and the way each song gels into the next with epic continuity justifies the onset of this maturity. But that’s not to say there’s not bite, there is still bite, but it comes camouflaged beneath much richer layers of musical – rather than visceral – complexity.
The title track is a searing, chiming, rolling Pogues-esque tour-de-force containing an angry tirade against post-9/11 America and is gone before you realise what’s hit you. Control. It’s not the only time a reinforced Celtic flavour penetrates the mould, ‘The Rest Will Follow’ and ‘To Russia My Homeland’ follow suit too. And they’re not the only unexpected tangs to hit the palette either. Take ‘All White’ and its orchestrated, Beatles melodies and ‘The Summer Of ’91’ which spins like the Small Faces given a beefing by The Smashing Pumpkins. ‘Let It Dive’ is like U2 gone emo and is divine in its enormity. Whichever way they twist throughout this record though, and those times are numerous, it’s still wrapped up in a familiar drama. So as far as they have gone this time, they’ve not gone too far. It may not be the best album they’ll record in their entire lifespan, but it’s certainly the most impressive leap they’ve made so far.