Guest Writer: John Afryl
Ladies/Killers: Lush

It is another special Sunday here at The Greatest Band Of All Time, and we are pleased to have with us guest writer, John Afryl.
It was the summer of 1992 when I first heard the band Lush. August 28 at Lollapalooza to be exact, and their opening slot didn't help them gather much of my attention. Too concerned with finding my friends somewhere in the huge crowd wilting in anticipation for Pearl Jam, I lost the beautiful harmonies and layers of guitar in the sticky St. Paul, MN air. If not for the simple circle logo found on the bottom of my souvenir t-shirt, I might have forgotten they were on the stage all together.

Three years and a new college-radio music library later I finally figured out what I had missed. Lush built their fan base as people grew to appreciate the beautifully textured, duel female songwriter force they introduced to the shoegazer scene of the early 90s. Led by Miki Berenyi and Emma Anderson, they traded-off songwriter duties and never missed an opportunity to bring some much-needed energetic gender equality to the "sad guys with guitars" landscape. Sure, My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive had talented women in their midst, but Lush WERE the ladies, and they could bring both the brash and the beauty.

Landing a deal with legendary 4AD insured them of notoriety, and they didn't disappoint, turning out quality EPs before finally releasing a proper full-length, 1992's Spooky. Two years later came my personal favorite Lush album, 1994's Split, which contains what I consider to be the most captivating opening track ever, "Light From a Dead Star." The atmospheric opening sounds give way to the cold assessment of a womanizer--a topic Lush also covered with particular aplomb on their next (and last) full-length, 1996's Lovelife with the opening track, "Ladykillers," which was an alt. radio hit(interesting note--this song was apparently inspired by Matt Sharp of Weezer and The Rentals fame). A lot of people were disappointed with the more pop-driven direction the band had moved towards, but I found it to be a natural progression of a sound they had been developing for over 8 years.

It wasn't until the spring of 1996 that I once again saw Lush play a show...this time in the much friendlier confines of Minneapolis' First Ave. However, a hastily arranged 2-hour car ride and an early-evening start time intervened and made sure that I only caught about 4 songs in their set. Oh well, I figured third time could be the charm, right? Unfortunately, lifelong drummer Chris Acland, (apparently distraught over a bad break-up) hung himself that year, bringing the group to a premature conclusion and ending all hope I had of experiencing live what I had come to love over an all-too-brief period. For an ethereal moment, Lush were The Greatest Band of All Time.
by JJA