Forty years on from the release of their Victorialand album, we rank the Scottish band’s 20 best tracks, from goth beginnings to weightless masterpieces
At first, Cocteau Twins gave every impression of being a goth band: check out Wax and Wane’s Banshees-esque ambience – the guitar is very John McGeoch – flanged bass and drum machine. But the chorus soars out of the metaphorical cloud of dry ice, and Elizabeth Fraser’s voice is already outpacing her influences.
One of several intriguing new directions explored towards their career’s end, the Twinlights EP offered the unlikely sound of Cocteau Twins more or less unplugged: set to piano, strings and a whisper of synth, Half-Gifts is entirely lovely. (If you prefer, there’s an equally beautiful, sonically lusher version on their eighth and final album Milk & Kisses.)
In an oeuvre filled with breathtaking moments, the point where the chorus of Those Eyes, That Mouth kicks in – when the guitar suddenly blooms into a sheet of ringing sound and Elizabeth Fraser hits a succession of high, shivering notes – is among the most breathtaking of all.
More direct – and emotionally troubled – than anything Cocteau Twins had previously recorded, major-label debut Four-Calendar Café was coolly received on release. But time has burnished its power: this album opener marries a languorous acoustic guitar to lyrics that unflinchingly describe being trapped in post-breakup grief.
