Fans of Spiritualized have never had to wait this long for an album before. Its been 6 long years since “Sweet Heart, Sweet Light” came out, and there weren’t too many that would have counted it amongst their most cherished releases like “Laser Guided Missiles” and “Ladies and Gentlemen…We Are Floating in Space”. Thankfully Spritualized, or more specifically Jason Pierce, returns AND returns to form. Return may not even be the most appropriate word here; “And Nothing Hurt” feels more like a rebirth, or even a reboot, with Pierce boldly going where he’s never gone before, and yet managing to bring us along for a journey that – by some perfect miracle – still feels familiar enough.
The studio has long served as a vessel for the Spiritualized sound. Pierce in the captain’s chair, an ever-changing crew at various stations awaiting his command, infinity and beyond displayed on the monitor and the coordinates set for the distant shores of deep space. And upon hearing this new album the listener may be forgiven for thinking they were dealing with more of the same. Only this time Pierce is manning a one man craft, has jettisoned off on this journey alone, and has been floating in space with only a laptop for the past couple of years. Interesting image but actually not so far-fetched from reality. This time Pierce has opted for a DIY job in his east London home and, with no great prior knowledge of digital recording, has spent the time relearning his craft essentially from scratch and undergoing a lengthy, laborious and at times infuriating process.
The swirling lullaby-esque opener “A Perfect Miracle”, held together by its backbone of an ever-endearing ukelele – which you can almost picture spawning the surrealistic wall of sound that follows – is an early indication that all the painstaking trials and tribulations undertaken by Pierce have in fact yielded great reward. The Wings-esque “I’m Your Man” is another early highlight, with its rugged guitar part accompaniments, and climactic and colourful choruses. Then there’s the playful and charming “Let’s Dance” which plays out like a figurine of a couple twirling around beneath the stars until its time for the music box to be closed, or “On The Sunshine”; a raucous, Dylan’s-gone-electric affair, where imaginary musicians seem to keep materialising around Pierce, banging all the pots, pans, colanders and chopping boards they can find in mother nature’s kitchen. “The Morning After”, another upbeat number, comes chugging along the tracks until its Revolution 9-esque clamorous cacophony of a conclusion comes crashing down. The song is neither a marathon or a sprint, but rather a sprinted marathon, which finds Pierce in full swing and at the peak of his new production powers. Finally the beautiful “Sail on Through” provides a blissful and effortlessly beautiful finale to an album, giving a lasting impression that the whole journey has been plain sailing when, in fact, it was anything but.
For You Blue 