Teenage Fanclub

Ragged grunge and delicate pop songcraft met on these Glaswegians' breakthrough 1991 album, Bandwagonesque, making them seem, at the time, a sort of mild Scottish analogue to Nirvana. But the similarity turned out to be only riff-deep: Soon Teenage Fanclub dropped the noisy haze and concentrated on the simple clarity of Byrds-y, Big Star-y guitar pop. The group's three songwriters, Norman Blake, Gerard Love, and Raymond McGinley -- three George Harrisons, not an agitator or egotist among them -- never had much rage anyway and so, as it turns out, neither burned out nor faded away.

Filled with languid, fuzzy head-nodders with titles such as "Everything Flows" and "Eternal Light," A Catholic Education melded the sounds of Alex Chilton, Neil Young, and Thurston Moore. Much gentler than anything happening in Seattle, the sound was also totally removed from the head-rush dance music infecting most of the rest of Britain at the time.

Bandwagonesque, produced by then-ubiquitous Don Fleming, sharpened the band's approach, replacing the sleepy aimlessness of A Catholic Education with crystalline sound and vastly improved songwriting skills. The result was some of the tastiest guitar pop of the decade, self-effacing enough to be called indie but still bursting with melody. "What You Do to Me" is the guitar-mad radio song that '80s British rock never produced; the same could be said for "December," "I Don't Know," and most of the rest of the album, each track a joyous, worthy tribute to the band's heroes, Chilton and Gene Clark.

Thirteen is a fairly dense experiment in prog pop that, despite some interesting spots, mostly sounds like a false start. But the band hit its stride again with Grand Prix, which is possibly even more gorgeous and exuberant than Bandwagonesque. Fuzz boxes gone, the guitars ring bright and clear, with ace harmonies by Blake, McGinley, and Love sailing effortlessly through the entire disc. The songwriting, too, has matured beyond the adolescent narcissism of previous albums, aiming for "something simple, unaffected," as Blake sings in "I'll Make It Clear," a love song that doubles as a statement of renewed musical purpose.

The band made another smart stylistic shift on the following two albums, taking the excitement of Grand Prix down a couple of notches to the level of intimate, domestic folk song. Following the Fannies' pattern of dud-then-gem, Songs From Northern Britain is sonically lovely if occasionally tedious; it's improved upon immensely by Howdy!, the band's prettiest and most emotionally direct statement. The guitars still chime, but organ, vibes, and other chamber-pop elements give it a warmer, more nuanced sound as the songs trace a calm quest for musical and emotional peace. Four Thousand . . . is an outstanding retrospective, with well-chosen tracks from every album and, sensibly, one new song each from Love, Blake, and McGinley. (BEN SISARIO)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide