The Chills –
SUBMARINE BELLS
New Zealand.
Flying Nun Records.
The Chills.
Few things can
compare with the excitement of first hearing a classic pop song from New
Zealand. “Death And The Maiden”. “Nothing’s Going To Happen”. “Made Up In
Blue”. “Inside And Out”. “Anything Could Happen”. “Fingerpops”. Or, indeed, “Heavenly
Pop Hit”.
My only problem with bands
like The Verlaines and The Clean (and most other New Zealand bands) is that
they never released one truly compelling album.
Nothing that would come even close to the brilliance of individual songs. Or,
indeed, of Submarine Bells.
Martin Phillipps was
in top form at this point, and he could do melancholically majestic (title
song) and effervescently effective (“Familiarity Breeds Contempt”). This was so
good there was no way he could recreate the magic on the worthy but patchy
follow-ups like Soft Bomb and Sunburnt. Or, indeed, Silver Bullets.
But my heart still
jumps the moment I hear those first few chords of the song that defines its
title.
