Fanatical screams, fierce grunts, primal chanting, occultist wailing, old-fashioned crooning, voice modification, and the sounds of donkeys and sheep. After multiple listens, it seems like The Dreaming could just as easily have been produced by a beast from the spiral nebula as a young woman from Kent, England.
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| Photo via rzrxtion at flickr.com |
Kate Bush’s fourth album, The Dreaming, was released in 1982 when Bush was just 24 years old. The album was released more than two years after her previous album, Never For Ever, had entered the charts at no. 1 in 1980.
The Dreaming is aptly titled. Much like a dream, the landscape changes rapidly and without warning. Over the course of the album - and even within individual songs - the tone shifts so abruptly that it feels as if new, subconscious musical tangents are ripping through without Bush’s thought or restraint. No sound ever lingers.
In a way, listening to The Dreaming is similar to reading stream of consciousness writing: it’s wholly inventive, but only partially intelligible. This combination can be both frustrating and rewarding. For example, there are times – particularly upon first listen – where it becomes nearly impossible to stay afloat in the dense, cacophonous sound. The songs are often layered to the point of incoherency.
However, from this wave of oblique audio many great moments emerge, and they drip like melodic ripples down the backbone of the open-minded listener. For example, the distant psychedelic guitar, roaring helicopter, and Bush’s bone-chilling declaration of “I Love Life! I Love Life!” on the track “Pull Out The Pin.” Or her growling assertion – as she plays the part of Houdini’s wife – that his spit is still on her lips as his body hits the water.
These moments showcase Bush’s wild, shrill vocals. Although some may find her voice grating at times, her eccentric style allows her to achieve a level of unfettered expression. You can feel her joy, confusion, or pain in every piercing cry or arsenic-laced roar. On The Dreaming, lyrics take a back seat to the sound. Without actually hearing Bush’s words, you can recognize her emotion, giving the album a style that still sounds exotic today.
Highlights of this otherworldly masterpiece include: “Suspended in Gaffa,” which may be the most accessible song on the album; “Leave it Open,” which closes with a tugboat rush of drowning drums and Bush’s haunting backwards vocals squealing “We let the weirdness in.”; and “Night of the Swallow,” which successfully fuses a haunting ballad with a lively Irish jig.
Listening to the album now, I’m a little unsure how to market it. Usually I’d recommend listening to an album all the way through the first time, but The Dreaming is nearly too much to take in during one straight session.
The conclusion to the album brings back a kind of childhood terror. It makes me compulsively look around the room to ensure that no malevolent spirits have begun dancing behind me. It is reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s “Bike,” which concludes The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Rather than closing with harmony and satisfaction, both albums introduce a new, frightening riff just as the album is fading out. This approach leaves the album with a sense of irresolution and instability. But I guess that’s befitting of the oddity that has come before. Hee-Haw!
On another note, The Dreaming has some of my favourite cover art of all time. Kate Bush looks beautiful.
Listening Recommendations: In short stints while your synapses are firing at a reasonable rate. Or after ingesting Adderall.
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