Cocteau Twins ranked

Albums

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9. Garlands (1982)

Everyone knows that all of Cocteau Twins’ music has explicit meaning. This album is about the horrors of living in rural Scotland in the early 1980s. It’s not as much about what is said on the album, but rather how it sounds. It’s dark, anxious and claustrophobic. Robin Guthrie’s guitar riffs are angry, and Elizabeth Fraser’s voice often sounds very angsty, on the verge of breaking. How would you like to live in Grangemouth yourself?

Haha. No, no.

Really, this sound was partially just a byproduct of Elizabeth Fraser being a huge fan of Siouxsie Sioux of Siouxsie and the Banshees. Now, I should be transparent and confess that I did not know about Siouxsie and the Banshees before I started listening to Cocteau Twins, and I’m still not familiar with their music, but Fraser’s appreciation for them is no secret, and just skimming through a few of their songs is enough to hear how Siouxsie Sioux influenced Fraser… well, at least in Fraser’s early work. Beyond that, the Cocteaus were just more into that post-punk sound at this time — they were a group of ostracized working class teenagers who liked to make music. All things considered, they were pretty good at it.

Retrospectively, Garlands is famous for being particularly unique within the context of the Cocteaus’ complete body of work. It’s no surprise considering Simon Raymonde had not yet joined the band. In fact, the trio consisted of Elizabeth Fraser, Robin Guthrie and a guy by the name of Will Heggie. As we’ll discuss later, Raymonde’s eventual addition would immediately make a huge impact and contribute to the development of Cocteau Twins’ sound, but it’s easy to overlook how many seeds were planted on this album.

Garlands sounds a lot different from Cocteau Twins’ most celebrated works, but it’s not as though Guthrie and Fraser suddenly learned how to make music once Simon Raymonde came along. Really, I think there’s a lot more to this album than that post-punk grimyness. It’s nowhere near as spacey as the later Cocteau Twins later albums, but its use of reverb still creates a distinct atmosphere that’s not too far removed. It’s not loud and explosive as much as it is on edge — it’s angry, but its anger is largely contained.

The album opens up with Blood Bitch, a title you wouldn’t find on a later Cocteau Twins album, and indeed a song you wouldn’t find on a later Cocteau Twins album either. As mean as the distorted bass and guitar on this song sound, and as intense as Fraser’s vocal performance is, the song never really erupts. It’s oddly slow-paced and atmospheric for a song with vicious energy. For me, it’s the best song on the album, but that’s not to say that it’s all downhill from here.

The following track, Wax And Wane, is the most celebrated on the album, and I’ve grown to understand why as time goes on. What makes it stand out within the context of the album is its pacing. Will Heggie’s bass on here is so hectic, I really think it’s the star of the song. Robin Guthrie’s use of a drum machine on this album is often cited as an example of it being more innovative than one might expect, and on this track the drums are particularly strong, partly contributing to its relentless pacing, and also giving it a slightly more futuristic sound. The disfigured guitar riff from Guthrie is also excellent, and on top of all of this Elizabeth Fraser just delivers a really relentless, catchy performance.

The tight song structure and fast pacing of Wax And Wane are elements that could have been used a lot more on this album. It really brings out the best of Elizabeth Fraser, who is otherwise almost outshined by the production on this album.

To that point, Garlands often succeeds in sounding eerie. The guitars are sour, angry, distorted and spacey; the drum loops are sharp and hard-hitting. This makes for a really strong foundation, but the issue is that the album is quite formulaic and the structure of many songs is a bit too loose. The latter doesn’t always combine too well with the raw and angry vocals Elizabeth Fraser, who doesn’t sound as purposeful on this album, even if it’s entirely sung in English.

With that being said, there are certainly other highlights on this album. But I’m Not has perhaps the best guitar riff on the entire album, and a really rangy performance from Fraser as well, with these very dark and low-key vocals, in an almost rap-like cadence, during the verses, but a much more passionate chorus, that also really sticks.

From this point on the album loses a bit of steam, though. I like Blind Dumb Deaf in a vacuum, with its grating guitar riff and spacey, shouty vocals from Elizabeth Fraser, but it’s a rather slow-paced song that never really goes anywhere, nor does it bring too much new to the table sonically. I like Shallow Then Halo even more in a vacuum — that chorus from Fraser is so catchy in spite of how slow and reserved it is, and it’s wonderfully contrasted by a very nasty electric guitar riff — but this is another very slow-paced song that isn’t all that different in terms of its components.

The Hollow Men sounds more like Wax And Wane and But I’m Not, and despite sharing similar qualities, the problem is that it doesn’t bring much new to the table, while it also isn’t as tightly structured.

I appreciate the slow buildup of the title track, how tight Weggie’s bass loop is, how menacing Guthrie’s guitar riff is as the track gains steam, and Fraser’s low-key, syncopated vocals. It’s a great song, but not among the best they’ve ever made, and still not anything to new compared to the rest of the album. Then, by the time you get to the outro, you can’t even say that it’s a strong track in a vacuum. Grail Overfloweth really only sounds like leftovers from the rest of the album, and it’s an unfortunate note to end on — especially with it being over five minutes long.

In any case, perhaps I have over-emphasized the flaws of this album to justify why I have ranked it last. I really think it’s a great album. The instrumentals are really menacing, and I’m particularly impressed by those claustrophobic tracks that sound quite ferocious but never actually boil over, while the more punchy, hard-hitting tracks are great as well.

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8. The Moon and the Melodies (1986)

1986 saw Cocteau Twins release two albums, the latter of which was The Moon and the Melodies, in collaboration with Harold Budd. Their first album of that year, Victorialand, had already seen the group head in a more ambient direction. Thanks to Budd’s presence, The Moon and the Melodies also had a notably ambient sound, with influences of jazz as well, but I really don’t think this is its defining trait. Above all, The Moon and the Melodies is Cocteau Twins’ darkest album — even more so than Garlands.

The album opens up with a melancholic acoustic piano, followed by a devastating beat drop. The song in question is Sea, Swallow Me, the definitive sad Cocteau Twins track. It is not the cool pick for favorite Cocteau Twins song, just barely ranking behind Cherry-coloured Funk as their most streamed song on Spotify — largely due to being popular on TikTok, as far as I can tell — but being cool is unimportant, and this song is a true masterpiece. It’s so intensely melancholic, but simultaneously so sonically beautiful that it avoids being outright depressing.

Now, my praise for Elizabeth Fraser’s vocal performances will soon become redundant, especially as words really can’t do them justice, but I have to emphasize that this really is one of her all-time best performances. The instrumental may lay the foundation for the tone of the song, and is beautiful in and of itself, but the song is completely elevated by Fraser’s incredibly emotional and angsty vocals, which occasionally transition into these bone-chilling soprano sections. This is why she’s the best to ever do it.

That’s quite a powerful way to start an album, and the following twelve minutes offer quite the change of pace; they are entirely instrumental. The album alternates between these more hard-hitting songs with Fraser, and these more spaced out, atmospheric instrumental songs — there are four of each, in fact.

After such an intense intro, the roughly twelve minutes of drum-less music straight from the star-studded skies are a welcome change of pace. On the other hand, if this album has a major flaw, it is that its instrumental sequences are too much like Memory Gongs, and too little like Why Do You Love Me?. Memory Gongs, while serving a respectable purpose, does not have enough emotionally gripping components to avoid dragging somewhat, at seven minutes and 27 seconds long. The dark shoegaze-esque guitar on Why Do You Love Me?, on the other hand, is absolutely soul-piercing, and keeps you engaged from start to finish. (This lost- and later found Pretty Good episode by Jon Bois, about Stanislav Petrov saving the world, is what initially made me fall in love with it — you should watch it!)

The other tracks with Elizabeth Fraser are still worth mentioning. Eyes Are Mosaics and She Will Destroy You are actually quite similar to Sea, Swallow Me in terms of the spacey and intensely melancholic atmosphere, and Elizabeth Fraser is excellent on both tracks. I love how shouty she is on Eyes Are Mosaics, and how her playful, repetitive gibberish underlaps and contrasts her more passionate vocals during the chorus. On She Will Destroy You, there is also some wonderful gibberish from Fraser, and the sudden saxophone from Richard Thomas to conclude the song is mesmerizing.

The album also concludes strongly, with Ooze Out And Away, Onehow being the first of many Cocteau Twins album outros that slowly and quietly builds up to an explosive climax — a formula that never fails.

With these highs, I can understand why some people truly adore this album. However, some of those ambient, instrumental sections just take me out of this album a bit too much, and I think it could have used more of songs like Sea, Swallow Me, Eyes Are Mosaics and She Will Destroy You, with just a couple songs like Why Do You Love Me? to balance things out. In any case, I absolutely love the top-end songs on this album — if anything it’s just a shame that it could have been one of their best albums, but isn’t quite consistent enough to get there.

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7. Milk & Kisses (1996)

I still don’t know what I think about this album. I know that I love most of its songs, but I do have my reservations about it.

With Cocteau Twins’ previous album, Four-Calendar Café, having been heavily influenced by the breakup of Elizabeth Fraser and Robin Guthrie, the writing was on the wall for the group’s future. At the time it would have been more than fair to question what a new Cocteau Twins album could possibly entail. Sure enough, even 30 years later after its release, I find it quite difficult to interpret Milk & Kisses.

This album continues to be more lyrically clear, with a number of tracks that sound particularly personal, similarly to Four-Calendar Café. But what is it all about? Even the decipherable lyrical content on Four-Calendar Café isn’t that generous, but the underlying context of Fraser and Guthrie’s breakup acts as a really strong foundation that leaves little confusion, if any. This album, on the other hand, was released three years later, making the more personal tracks harder to construe. Clarity is not added by the amount of tracks on here that see the group revert to a more atmospheric, elusive side — like the intro, Violaine.

On, Violaine, I love the bouncy pace, the spooky synths, the slightly drowned out electric guitar that repeatedly rips through the track, Fraser’s cryptic falsetto singing, and the guitar solo shortly after the midway point. Whereas people criticize this album for sounding bland, I think my issue with it — and I don’t really have many major ones — is a different one. That issue is not relevant to this track, which I just think is really cool sonically. It possesses an air of mystery around it, just as much of Cocteau Twins’ legacy-defining music did, but it achieves this effect in a totally different way. It’s a sonical reinvention that I really appreciate, even if this song is more pristine and pop-oriented — for me, it’s not an issue.

Serpentskirt is another song that I think contradicts the narrative that this album is bland and boring. It has this devastatingly beautiful bassline that is almost reminiscent of the Twin Peaks theme, although the song is a lot spacier than that comparison might imply — especially as it goes on. In any case, it is Elizabeth Fraser who steals the show on this one, with what might just be her best vocal performance ever. I cannot stress that enough. Her falsetto singing in the chorus is so pure and powerful that it could break a glass, and I love how it’s almost echoed by that glistening, reverby guitar. More notably, the 2:23–3:12 passage on this track after the second chorus is probably the most magical, ethereal moment in Cocteau Twins’ entire body of work. Never has Elizabeth Fraser sounded more angelic. This is really up there with Cocteau Twins’ best songs.

Now, the first two tracks on Milk & Kisses are rather uncomplicated. In spite of what Four-Calendar Café had entailed, you don’t try to derive meaning from them because they are so blatantly cryptic and sonically focused. The same does not go for the rest of the album, which is a more lyrically coherent, and doesn’t sound anywhere near as ethereal.

In any case, I think the critique that this album is bland and generic continues to miss the mark with regards to Tishbite, the third track. As far as I have gathered, it’s a track that isn’t thought of too highly, and I don’t entirely understand why. It’s absolutely a lot more pop-oriented and conventional than Cocteau Twins’ earlier music, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. I love how sweet the guitar on this song is, and how that other guitar just rips through here and there, similarly to Violaine. Beyond that, I just think Robin Guthrie and Simon Raymonde were really great at composing songs. The bass and drums don’t steal the show on this, but the whole thing is really tightly constructed, cohesive and groovy. Furthermore, Elizabeth Fraser matches the sweetness of the guitar with an unusually raw vocal performance that mixes wonderfully with the grooviness of the track. Instrumentally the chorus is another reminder of Guthrie and Raymonde’s abilities as composers, but above all I just love Fraser’s vocals on here. One might even say that it is like a dream!

Some issues arise on Half-Gifts, however. While Tishbite is clearly sung in English, it is not as clear what Fraser is singing, let alone what the song is about as a whole, and it doesn’t need to be. Half-Gifts, on the other hand, is far more stripped back, sounds more personal, and is more personal. Its lyrics can be directly interpreted from the music video, and the song clearly has a therapeutic purpose through Fraser’s introspection, similarly to Four-Calendar Café. I certainly respect that but, especially with the lack of insight into the greater real-life context of the song, I’m not too crazy about the lyrics, and I also don’t love this version of Half-Gifts sonically.

The gloomy, drum-less instrumental is somewhat textured, but still a little bland, and quickly gets repetitious. Furthermore, I have an issue with how Fraser’s vocals are layered on this song — there’s a mix of more raw vocals and falsetto singing that just doesn’t work on this song. There’s a similar vocal approach to parts of Tishbite, which is more effective due to how fast-paced and textured it is. On a song as sensual and personal as this one, a more minimalist sound which emphasizes the emphasize the emotions in Fraser’s singing would have been effective, as the acoustic iteration of this song proves.

Calfskin Smack, instead, is a step in the right direction. Like Tishbite, it’s a really sweet, tightly composed and groovy track. Here, the vocals are also layered in a way that is characteristic of this album, but the effects of which vary depending on the mood, tone and pacing of the song. On this song I think the vocals are more than fine. I can imagine why one might not love the “ooh, la la la” parts, but I love Fraser’s performance as a whole. In fact, speaking of vocal layers, the counter-melodies and complementary background vocals in the pockets from Fraser are perhaps the strongest point of this track.

Rilkean Heart is somewhat of a return to Half-Gifts in terms of its personal lyrics and vocal style, but it’s not the context that it is dedicated to the late Jeff Buckley that makes it far more enjoyable. For the most part, I just think the instrumental is much stronger. In fairness, the album’s lack of instrumental range post-Serpentskirt is a separate issue that begins to arise here, but Rilkean Heart remains an excellent song in a vacuum. The bulk of the credit belongs to Elizabeth Fraser, who just delivers a stunning vocal performance here. If you can’t decipher all of what she’s saying, the vocals seem to transmit all of the emotions that went into this song anyway — it’s quite powerful. I still feel as though acoustic version of this song is superior as well, but that’s a discussion we can revisit later on.

To get to another nitpick, I think the sequencing of this album is a bit odd, as the following song, Ups, would have fit much better next to Tishbite or Calfskin Smack. Another smaller issue also reappears here, which is that its instrumental, apart from being less adventurous, doesn’t really stick out from the rest of the instrumentals on this album — at least not in terms of characteristics. On the other hand, this is another song that I love in and of itself. It has one of Fraser’s most cryptic, elastic vocal performances on the entire album, and I think her background vocals throughout are the highlight of this track are wonderful. Lots of great gibberish on here — stuff only Elizabeth Fraser can pull off, truly.

But, just as the album’s repetitive nature has begun to nag you somewhat, you are presented with its weakest song, which isn’t even a diversion from the album’s overarching sound. The drum-less instrumental on Eperdu is just too repetitive, and I don’t think this layering of Fraser’s vocals works on these more ambient tracks. There are certainly parts of this song that are pretty, and the waves in the background are a nice touch, but overall it’s not that sonically appealing, and it further perpetuates the album’s split between songs that sound really personal despite being relatively ambiguous in terms of lyrical content, and pop-oriented tracks that primarily just sound great, even if they have personal elements. That lack of coherency is a big step back from Four-Calendar Café.

On the other hand, the album ends on a high. Treasure Hiding and Seekers Who Are Lovers are almost like one greater two-part outro, which effectively conclude Cocteau Twins’ body of work. There were a few songs released shortly after this album, but the writing was on the wall, and these aforementioned tracks are the final songs on Cocteau Twins’ final album.

My interpretation of these two songs as a collective outro is bolstered by the fact that I just happened to be listening to Treasure Hiding when I learned that my 14-year old dog had been put down. I didn’t turn the album off — it felt right in the moment. Some months later, I’m still sad to no longer have my best friend with me. I don’t live at home anymore, but whenever I come back for a visit I feel the profound hole that has been left behind. At the same time, more than anything else I just cherish the memories I had with her. There is a similar bittersweetness in these final tracks.

Indeed, despite signaling the end of Cocteau Twins, Treasure Hiding isn’t overwhelmingly sad. In fact, it might not be sad at all — maybe I have just been conditioned into perceiving it as such. If nothing else, it is very outro-like — it follows Cocteau Twins’ classic outro formula that was established on The Moon and the Melodies. This final iteration of that series is the one that tests your patience the most, but the two-and-a-half minute wait is worth it for Fraser’s hypnotic delivery of “treasure hiding” alone. The climax of this song is less explosive than those of Cocteau Twins’ previous albums, but more enchanting, as the song’s faint, glittery atmosphere is suddenly enhanced. In part, the song post-climax sounds incredibly spacey and magical, but I also find there is a distinct hint of melancholy to it as well — one which doesn’t overpower the track, but rather adds depth to it. Given the context of the track, it is very fitting.

Less subtly, the bittersweetness of the end of Cocteau Twins is entirely captured on Seekers Who Are Lovers. The bass from Simon Raymonde that kicks off the track is devastatingly dark, but this song is another Cocteau Twins masterclass in contrasts. The verses, with their Wall of Sound effects and mesmerizing vocals from Elizabeth Fraser, are uniquely magical — an ode to all the exhilirating music they had made over all these years. At the same time, the group does not sugarcoat things, whether they intended for this to be their final track or not. The choruses sound like the world is ending, and as the final chorus ends, you hear this solitary whirlwind that slowly but surely fizzles out. The ensuing silence marks the end of Cocteau Twins.

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6. Victorialand (1986)

By 1986, Cocteau Twins had more or less found their sound and already had two colossal albums under their belt. “Where do you go from here?”, they were once asked, in reference to Treasure having been “almost too perfect” (per the reporter). Well, with Simon Raymonde busy with other projects, romantic couple Elizabeth Fraser and Robert Guthrie would come together to create Cocteau Twins’ most stripped back album. It is a highly intutitive pick for their worst album, but the more I listen to it, the more I think of it as a masterpiece.

Victorialand requires more patience than any another Cocteau Twins album, and this becomes apparent quite early on. The opening song, Lazy Calm, follows a formula akin to how Cocteau Twins’ outros were structured from The Moon and the Melodies and onwards. It is never the slow, quiet buildup sequence of these songs that blows you away, but it fills an important purpose each time. In this case, despite that sequence being particularly long, I also think it’s particularly pretty and really sets the tone for the album.

The first two minutes and 57 minutes of Lazy Calm — and by extension Victorialand — consist of pure ambience. There’s no Elizabeth Fraser, and no percussion — just these bright, dreamy strings, some faint, indiscernible (at least to me) noises soaring in the distance, a soft saxophone played by Richard Thomas of Dif Juz, and eventually these spacey, futuristic keys. It has that ambient, futuristic 80s sound that is all over Jon Bois’ work — quite the contrast to Treasure, which is often so dark, loud and intense, although atmospheric nonetheless. To that point, Cocteau Twins’ vivid, transcendent atmospheres might ultimately be their defining trait, it is something they pulled off no matter which sound they went for. A crucial reason why is that Wall of Sound approach.

It may sound simple and obvious when you put it like that. It reminds me of how we often talk about data in sports — as though the data itself is inherently valuable, and merely having access to it will bring success. Obviously that isn’t the case. In the same way, it was not Cocteau Twins’ use of layers/reverb effects in and of itself that created their sound, but how they approached it. Or rather how Robin Guthrie approached it. For all my praise for Elizabeth Fraser throughout this article, this is certainly an area in which he deserves the credit — especially in regards to this album, given Simon Raymonde’s absence. It is incredible how vivid and immersive the opening sequence to the first track is, for starters, and it is largely thanks to those aforementioned recording techniques.

With all of this being said, these two minutes and 57 minutes ultimately serve but one greater purpose: to build up to Elizabeth Fraser’s eventual entrance. It’s a moment where the track just changes completely, with Fraser delivering some of her softest, dreamiest singing ever. The instrumental changes upon Fraser’s entrance are quite subtle, but make a world’s difference too. Those strings from before reappear, although at a faster pace and in a more coherent rhythm, and the percussion also kicks in, adding tremendous depth to the track. It’s like an entirely different song. To avoid becoming stale, the song undergoes some great development post-climax as well. I love Fraser’s high notes, counter-melodies, and the return of the saxophone in particular. Fittingly enough, it is precisely with Richard Thomas’ saxophone that one of Cocteau Twins’ longest songs, at 6:34, concludes. It does not feel that way — every single second is justified.

While few songs on Victorialand are comparable in terms of song structure, and only one other song contains drums, the ambient sound from Lazy Calm is built on throughout the rest of the album. Additionally, the combination of percussion-less, spacey instrumentals and Elizabeth Fraser’s idiosyncratic falsetto singing proves a brilliant one.

Not too dissimilarly from the intro, Fluffy Tufts, Oomingmak, Little Spacey and Feet-like Fins are exceedingly dreamy, playful and even joyful songs, all of which I think can be viewed as stylistic predecessors to Blue Bell Knoll. Oomingmak sees Elizabeth Fraser deliver some of her most exhilirating, incomprehensible vocal acrobatics ever. Little Spacey almost radiates an escapist harmony that I also find is rediscovered, or perhaps developed, on Blue Bell Knoll, especially with the half-comprehensible lyrics about running away.

On the other hand, the album ends up having far more range than one might initially suspect from the first two tracks. Similarly to its predecessor, Treasure, Victorialand is equally as eerie as it is pretty. As good a job as Robin Guthrie does on the aforementioned tracks, those instrumentals may not be too memorable in and of themselves. However, the other songs on the album have this dark, gothic sound that is even more vivid than any of the songs on Treasure, and incredibly gripping. As far as the instrumentals go, the strings on these tracks are particularly incredible. Predictably, the greatest asset of these songs remains Elizabeth Fraser, though. That being said, the two certainly work in tandem.

I really don’t think there are any more words to describe the vivid, haunting and mystical atmosphere of a song like Throughout The Dark Months Of April And May. With regard to a song like Whales Tails, though, Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals are particularly worthy of praise. Her slow, echoey and cryptic verses on this track are hyponitizing and eerie enough, but then there are also these sudden high notes that are just completely bone-chilling, although they seamlessly get more dreamy as she keeps singing. A sensational vocal performance, yet ultimately only one of many on this album.

On How To Bring A Blush To The Snow and The Thinner The Air, the final two tracks, Robin Guthrie continues to provide a faint, gothic and eerie atmosphere that serves as the perfect backdrop to Fraser’s brilliantly nonsensical vocals. In fact, her vocals on How To Bring A Blush To The Snow might be my favorite on the entire album, particularly due to their ambiguity, range, and the amount of layers. Indeed, there is plenty of passion and rawness to complement, or sometimes even contrast, the falsetto sections on this song. The chorus especially, with its lead- and counter-melodies, is so textured and harmonic — just mesmerizing, despite how eerie it is.

Similarly to Whales Tails, The Thinner The Air sees Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals go from a mix between dreamy and eerie, to perhaps her most haunting ever. Her soprano vocals towards the end of this song sound like they could easily be several centuries old. It’s an incredibly powerful note to end the album on, and while it may not quite have the highs of other Cocteau Twins albums, its consistency and sonical cohesiveness are right up there.

5. Head Over Heels (1983)

I can respect that Garlands is some people’s favorite Cocteau Twins — it does not mean I understand them. They got so much better immediately after.

During this time, it felt like Cocteau Twins could only really make one style of music — that is, throughout the EP’s that followed Garlands as well. There were innovative elements of the music, but there ultimately wasn’t much range to it.

In fairness, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly what changed on Head Over Heels. Did the Cocteaus move away from post-punk? Not exactly, no. Was this the album where they first achieved that spacey, ethereal sound? Well, there was already plenty of Phil Spector influence in their previous music, but I think the most straightforward answer is that this album is just a lot more atmospheric.

When Mama Was Moth starts off with these incredibly thick, echoing drums, which are eventually joined by a deep mysterious bass and distorted guitar working in tandem. Once more, many aspects can be traced back to Cocteau Twins’ earlier music, but there are subtle differences. There seems to be an added element of negative space, the instruments sound even spacier, and the overall eeriness is more subtle than what is produced by Guthrie’s grimy guitar on previous songs. Fraser’s voice also sounds more matured, as she delivers a dark and eerie, yet reserved vocal performance on this track. Ultimately, When Mama Was Moth is a slower song that never even comes close to climaxing, but its dark, atmospheric sound is a great precursor to what’s to come.

On Five Ten Fiftyfold, Cocteau Twins’ musical development becomes more apparent in every aspect. With its relatively fast pace and raw, guttural bassline, it retains a post-punk edge, but there is unmistakeably a new sound. Firstly, the added spaciness cannot be ignored. Beyond that, I think it’s Elizabeth Fraser who shines on this song, and this might actually be the first instance where recording techniques are used to really transform her vocals, effectively using them as another instrument. The chorus is shouted passionately, seemingly almost from the distance with how it’s mixed and edited, whereas her verses have this low-key, mysterious and captivatingly spacey sound to them. That rumbling bassline serves as the perfect contrast to the latter, while the screeching saxophone in the background, played by Ally Gibb, really emphasize how stylistically different the whole album is — aside from being an excellent component to the track. To circle back to Fraser, I also love her varying but consistently cryptic intonations of “wheezing and sneezing” (or whatever the hell she’s saying). This is really an incredible song, on which a new Cocteau Twins sound was born in many respects.

Whereas these first two tracks give you the idea that this album is going to be defined by a more spacey and atmospheric take on Cocteau Twins’ post-punk sound, Sugar Hiccup suddenly takes you in a vastly different direction. Some see it as the birth of dream pop, and perhaps they’re the right. While this song remains a stylistic outlier within the greater context of this album, it further showcases the group’s growth. Consistent with the title, this song is just incredibly sweet. All it really needs is Guthrie’s slightly distorted electric guitar and Elizabeth Fraser’s delightful vocals. Here she presents a side of herself that had really never been heard before — not even close. It’s a big step forward from the angsty, wobbly singing from Garlands — it’s so much more stable and melodic, first of all. Beyond that, I especially appreciate how her passion and intensity escalate on this song — while she’s saying some absolute bullshit, if we are being perfectly honest. This is just a relentlessly addictive song.

Sugar hiccuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuppp!!!!!

Speaking of relentless, In Our Angelhood is this pulsating post-punk banger that might be even better than Sugar Hiccup. I absolutely love Fraser’s passionate, slightly darker vocals, which shine through despite being buried in reverb. In fact, I also love how the reverb makes her vocals linger. At the same time, I would argue that the ferocious electric guitar riff and intense pacing are what really make this song. There are certain moments where the guitar and Fraser are seemingly interrupted by themselves before they’re even finished with their respective melodies. This song is so fiery and relentless, it barely gives you a second to breathe.

The hot streak really only continues on Glass Candle Grenades, where Guthrie slightly outshines Fraser once more with these more spacey drums, a gritty electric guitar riff, and these bright strings that just slice through the track. It is another song that is somewhat reminiscent of Garlands; it’s loud and abrasive, but relatively slow-paced. Once more, I think what then distinguishes it from Garlands is how spacey it is, as well as Fraser’s growth as a vocalist. The end result is once more something quite different — it sounds so much more refined, all whilst remaining distinguishably gritty.

In The Gold Dust Rush is excellent for similar reasons. A while back I tweeted that I get so caught up in the trope of Fraser’s lyrics being incomprehensible that I occasionally don’t realize when she’s actually singing the title of the song. That is not the case on this song, but her zany combination of passion and ambiguity does make it hard to fathom that she’s actually saying something. As such, it took me months to realize that when she’s hysterically calling out to some sort of love interest, and shouting about a “gold dust rush”, she’s really just talking about cocaine. In any case, it’s such a wild and oddly catchy performance. This song also nails that gritty and spacey sound, with its raw acoustic guitar and heavy drums, roaring electric guitar riff, and heavy use of reverb. It really sticks the more you listen to it, it’s such a fun song.

Overall, the first six songs on this album are of an extremely high level. While it’s all relative, Cocteau Twins albums do have a tendency to tail off somewhere around the halfway point, and Head Over Heels is no exception. Songs like The Tinderbox (of A Heart), Multifoiled and My Love Paramour build on that gritty, spacey sound, and are all really strong tracks, but don’t stick as much as the previous ones. With that being said, Musette Dreams is an incredible song to close the album on. Similarly to In Our Angelhood, it’s incredibly fiery, but even more atmospheric.

This album acts as a sort of midpoint between Cocteau Twins’ raw post-punk era and their lush, ethereal era, but to me it’s clearly their breakout album nonetheless. The group already had a solid foundation on Garlands and the adjacent EP’s, but this album is just so much more melodic, atmospheric and sophisticated. What also stands out about it is how cohesive it feels despite the sonical range between songs like Sugar Hiccup, In Our Angelhood and In The Gold Dust Rush. And that slight dry streak towards the end really only prevents this from being one of Cocteau Twins’ very, very best albums. There is nothing resembling a weak track here, it’s amazing.

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4. Treasure (1984)

Cocteau Twins were constantly in evolution, perhaps even more so than they’re given credit for. However, if there is one album on which they came into their own, it would be this one. While Head Over Heels had been a stylistic evolution from Garlands, it retained a degree of punk influence and grit. As Simon Raymonde arrived to the band, Treasure would instead see the Cocteaus double down on the spacier aspects of Head Over Heels, creating a kind of transcendent atmosphere that is more in line with Cocteau Twins’ legacy. About Treasure, Steve Sutherland of Melody Maker infamously said: “Surely this band is the voice of God.” In a sense, this is where the legend of Cocteau Twins was born.

Just as Elizabeth Fraser’s development as a vocalist played a fundamental role in the stylistic difference between Garlands and Head Over Heels, the same applies to this album, although the differences are even more noticeable. Whereas she elected for a more melodic and stable vocal style on Head Over Heels, this album saw her experiment with a style of non-verbal falsetto singing that really took her vocal performances to a new level.

On Ivo, the first track, we hear this development almost immediately. Fraser’s incomprehensible soprano vocals have a strong sense of mystery to them, as does the instrumental, with its raw, strumming acoustic guitar and sharp bassline. The profoundly gothic sound that is produced by these components is one of the staples of the album. At the same time, it is also extraordinarily multidimensional. Early on, the song suddenly transitions into an explosive rhythm, with these spacey, futuristic drums and similarly futuristic keys that punch into the track, which also brings much more raw, passionate and playful performance out of Fraser, complemented by equally playful soprano vocals in these tight pockets. The more gothic-sounding bridge that follows, as well as the screeching distorted guitar towards the end only add more elements to the track, and yet it’s all perfectly concocted.

The album then transitions into its most celebrated song, Lorelei, which plays far more into the dreamy, joyful and futuristic aspects of Ivo. Here, Fraser’s growth as a vocalist is perhaps even more outstanding, as she delivers one of her softest and most sensual vocal performances ever, consisting of pure gibberish. Her playful, breath-catching bridge on this song is also incredible, as well as some of her rawer vocal sequences. In just a couple of years, she had gone from occasionally sounding derivative and/or grating, to being inimitable. I don’t know if anyone had ever sounded quite like her before, or if anyone has since. She truly steals the show on this track, but the electric guitar riff, rumbling bassline and spacey, explosive drums further solidify Lorelei as a true Cocteau Twins classic.

Returning to the range of this album, Persephone is a track that is rather Garlands-esque, with a far more gritty electric guitar riff, a relatively slow pace, and an underlying, bubbling rage that never really erupts. At the same time, the drums and reverb make it sound far more futuristic and refined than anything on Garlands. In any case, Fraser drops the soprano singing, and instead delivers one of her rawest and wildest performances ever. In fact, the way her vocals often verge on breaking on this one is also reminiscent of Garlands. Conversely, there are these sequences where her vocals are much more low-key, which help balance out the song and work especially well when contrasted with Fraser’s more unhinged lead vocals. Once more, she showcases vocal range and innovation that was just unthinkable on Garlands — perhaps even on Head Over Heels, as much as I love that album. It should be stressed how good the drums and guitar are on this track as well — it’s such a good song.

The album then transitions into a track that is far more dreamy and blissful than any of the prior tracks — how beautiful is Pandora (for Cindy)? Despite the drums remaining quite explosive and futuristic on this song, the instrumental is so peaceful, largely thanks to Simon Raymonde’s wonderful bass. Fraser then matches that peacefulness with some of her sweetest, softest falsetto singing ever, but also contrasts it with these rawer recurring sequence that almost sound like a precursor to the chorus of Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires in their awkwardly fast pace and incomprehensibility. The gibberish on this track really is so good.

At 5:35, you wish this song was longer, and yet you also wish that there was a little more of those moments where Fraser almost sings something reminiscent of “for Cindy,” followed by complete nonsense, in possibly her most angelic voice — contrasted by Guthrie’s moaning guitar in the background. One of the things I’m not going to rank in this article is moments/passages in songs. Instead, I’m merely going to mention them in passing, and I have to highlight this one as one of my all-time favorites.

The album then develops a pattern of contrasts, with Amelia being its rawest and most haunting track. It has an incredibly heavy instrumental, with these dark, acoustic strings that once more produce this raw, gothic vibe. It’s difficult to imagine how it would sound without the spine-tingling soprano vocals from Elizabeth Fraser, though.

While critics of Fraser’s non-verbal singing are few and far between, this album serves as a particularly strong testament to how purposeful and effective her vocal performances were. Not only did her rejection of lyrics give her the liberty to create sounds that others simply did-/could not, her incomprehensibility on this album also enhances its mystique tremendously. On Amelia she probably doesn’t say a single word, and it’s perfect that way; the lack of words at all — let alone intelligible ones — makes it sound truly otherwordly. Fraser’s angelic voice paired with a supreme vocal range are what really make this album. For as oddly haunting as it sounds at times, it is also plastered by the prettiest voice I have ever heard. These tracks may vary in tone, but are always sonically stunning — Fraser is the catalyst. While she was always an exceptionally talented vocalist, it was with the development of her falsetto style on this album that she really found her voice, which allowed for an entirely different vocal range. As far as I’m concerned, that voice is the true “voice of God.”

The contrasts continue as Amelia transitions into perhaps the most joyful song on the album, Aloysius. Here, Fraser further displays the range of her non-verbal falsetto singing, highlighted by a wonderfully blissful and elusive chorus. There are also these moments where, similarly to Sugar Hiccup, Fraser’s vocals escalate in intensity and conviction to exhilirating effects.

The album predictably gets darker on the following track, Cicely, but this is another track that is also incredibly multidimensional. It has these raw acoustic strings that add a gothic element to the track, contrasted by these super spacey, punchy drums, and tied together by these keys that sound both mystical and unmistakeably futuristic. As cool as the instrumental is, this song only gets so far without Elizabeth Fraser. Her verses are rawer in terms of her vocal approach, and increase in volume and intensity before being beautifully contrasted by some of her purest and most hypnotic singing ever. On the instrumental side, there are also these organs which further solidify this as a song as equally gothic and futuristic.

This album’s only real flaw is that it ends on its two weakest tracks. The vaguely French-sounding and deeply sensual Otterley is sort of a spiritual predecessor to Victorialand, but as much as I love that album, and as much as I even like this song, it’s just a bit too faint and longwinded to be a highlight on this album. Donimo, the final track, is also great. In fact one could argue that this is where Cocteau Twins’ outro formula was born, but I would argue its lack of a true climax suggests otherwise. That is also what stops the album from ending on a bang. I love this song’s progression and sonical range — I mean it is a truly great song — but Cocteau Twins have set the bar extremely high. I think they have three albums with even higher peaks, and stronger conclusions.

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3. Blue Bell Knoll (1988)

I can count the amount of albums that I like better than this one with my hands. Two of them belong to Cocteau Twins.

It’s with Blue Bell Knoll that the group first ascend to truly historic heights. Some of their previous music had been more multidimensional and complex, but the beauty of this album lies in its relative simplicity. The band members have spoken about how fun and liberating the recording process of this album was — to say that is reflected in the music would really sell it short.

Ironically enough, this is the Cocteau Twins albums that is most heavenly. For me, personally, this association is bolstered by things that are really only tangential to the music. For instance, there’s the lightness of the album cover, and the image of Elizabeth Fraser ostensibly singing in the sky in the music video for Carolyn’s Fingers. Tangential to the music as these images may be, I find that they are consistent with what the music conveys.

Now, it can be a mistake to put in too much effort trying to decode the meaning and intention behind Cocteau Twins’ music. The group themselves usually expressed a death-of-the-author attitude in relation to their music, and were not exactly eager to explain it. Very well, but I struggle to ignore the connection between how the band itself describes the recording process of the album and the music that came out of it. Although I suppose this is just an interpretation of mine anyway, rather than me ascribing an explicit purpose/idea to the album. In any case, songs like Carolyn’s Fingers feel heavenly not only in how pretty and pristine they are, but also in how they evoke a specific kind of joy which you may associate with the afterlife. I think this aligns with the context of the album and its recording process, whether or not it was something the group had in mind.

At the same time, there are other elements to this album than the unadulterated bliss of a song like Carolyn’s Fingers, though. The intro, named after the album, opens up with this really sharp, electronic sound that actually comes from drums that were distorted by Guthrie, but really sound like a synth. In any case, it creates quite a moody sound, although there’s still a cloudy and slightly trippy atmosphere to this song that is consistent with the the album as a whole. Furthermore, the track closes with these really distorted guitars, which make for the first of numerous shoegaze-like moments of the album.

More importantly, Elizabeth Fraser gives us a first taste of her unparalleled elusiveness on this album. She had already begun to head in a direction that prioritized sound over lyrical content on Treasure, but it was on Blue Bell Knoll that she fully committed to not writing in English whatsoever; she sang in an entirely made-up language. With regard to that approach, and the sound of the entire album, the intro is merely a warmup, though.

The brilliance of Fraser’s vocal approach on this album becomes more apparent on the following track: Athol-brose. But again, how can you possibly describe it? In this case, it’s not merely a matter of words not doing the music justice, but also of the music being so unconventional that it almost defies any objective description. Although the group would have labels like “ethereal” and “otherwordly” slapped onto them quite early on in their career, the concoction of Fraser’s passionate singing, playfully repetitive falsetto counter-melodies, and the screeching distorted guitar that is heard throughout this song, is transcendental in a way that their music had never even come close to being before — perhaps with Love’s Easy Tears as the one exception. Additionally, although Carolyn’s Fingers really remains somewhat of an outlier on this album in terms of its heavenly blissfulness, the album’s heavenly beauty is a constant.

With that being said, Carolyn’s Fingers happens to be the following track on the album, and I feel like more has to be said about it — although words can only do so much, of course. As unbelievable as Elizabeth Fraser sounds on Athol-brose, it pales in comparison to this song. Really, what can you even say? This is the song that fully encapsulates the ingenuity of her liberal vocal approach on this album. The sounds she comes up with on this, without even coming close to saying a single word, is such a monumentally impressive feat. On the other hand, I don’t really care about the technical aspect of this song compared to how it actually sounds, and how it makes you feel. Above all, this is a song defined by the exhilirating effect of Elizabeth Fraser’s singing. It might be the most blissful song ever created. It might be the best song ever created. Like Athol-brose, it climaxes when all the different layers on the track harmonize in perfect synergy — Guthrie’s electric guitar riff, Fraser’s frolicking soprano vocals, and her warm, comparatively sober, and profoundly comforting counter-melodies.

The following track, For Phoebe Still A Baby, is another song that is profoundly warm and joyful, and has this heavenly air to it. Here, the dynamic duo of Elizabeth Fraser’s lead vocals and Elizabeth Fraser’s counter-melodies really steal the show. It’s hard to say she delivers her purest singing ever considering the competition, but it really might be up there. Again, the use of layers and contrasts continues to be one of Cocteau Twins biggest strengths — one that I rarely see discussed, oddly enough. This song isn’t quite on par with Carolyn’s Fingers, but serves as sort of a continuation of it; the dream goes on for just a bit longer.

If you want to put it harshly, the dream then ends rather abruptly. After all, The Itchy Glowbo Blow is a much darker track than the previous two, but, as alluded to, the atmosphere of this album is consistently incredible regardless of its variations in mood. Fraser’s vocals remain both ambiguous and absolutely stunning on this song. The vocal effects make them sound particularly spacey, and the way her vocals regularly overlap with each other does so much for the atmosphere — I can’t stress it enough; the layers! The song as a whole, beyond its darker tone, has such a beautifully drowned out sound, which is eventually briefly interrupted by this incredible glistening guitar section. The song then concludes with a sensational combination of layers, including more elements of distortion. These are reminders that this album also has its more multidimensional moments, and while I certainly prefer the carefree, gleeful tracks like Carolyn’s Fingers and For Phoebe Still A Baby, tracks like this one are absolutely crucial for the sound of this album, aside from being brilliant in their own rights.

And we haven’t even gotten to Cico Buff yet. I said Carolyn’s Fingers could be the best song ever made — I think Cico Buff might be better. It’s like a concoction of all the different songs on this album. The beauty of its warm, fuzzy atmosphere, and falsetto vocals from Fraser, really cannot be described as anything but heavenly — if the term can only be applied to one Cocteau Twins song, I nominate this one. At the same time, I think Cico Buff’s lingering sadness and emotional ambiguity, in contrast to Carolyn’s Fingers, are what really elevate it. Its multidimensionality is incredible too — Guthrie’s electric guitar solo adds an abrasive edge to the song, and is one of the most stunning, emotive moments in Cocteau Twins’ entire body of work. Funnily enough, Fraser’s subsequent rhapsody of various harmonic vocal layers is arguably just as good, if not better. The whole thing is just beautiful to a nearly-tear-inducing degree.

With the album having reached such heights on merely the sixth track, a fall-off was almost guaranteed, and if this album has any flaw, it is that the final four tracks indeed don’t come close to the peaks of the first six. That does not mean they aren’t incredibly strong in their own ways, though.

On Suckling The Mender, the cloudy, electronic-sounding atmosphere of the intro returns, but it’s not quite as moody, retaining a vaguely similar degree of emotional ambiguity to Cico Buff. Fraser’s spacey, playful non-verbal vocals enhance the track’s trippy sound, and are nicely contrasted by a far more impassioned vocal performance during the chorus. Returning to the multidimensionality of this album, this song concludes with a really bright, atmospheric-sounding guitar from Guthrie, backed by Raymonde’s bass and this similarly bright and abrasive noise in the background, which eventually takes over the track entirely — a moment that bolsters the album’s heavenly imagery. I can’t quite identify the instrument, but there is something quite spiritual and peaceful about it, despite its droning nature.

I love how that moment is then contrasted by the tight, groovy drum pattern of Spooning Good Singing Gum. Now, not too long ago this album started to grow off me due to how it falls off after Cico Buff — and it’s true that it never reaches those peaks again, but this song is so, so good. An underdiscussed aspect of this album, on my part, is the atmosphere. The group adopted a Wall of Sound approach to their music from the beginning, and thus all of their albums are atmospheric in their own way, but none as much as this one. Ultimately, I think this is Cocteau Twins’ quintessential dream pop album. On this track, Guthrie seems to be playing an acoustic guitar that sounds so wonky and echoey that it almost sounds electric. The reverb on Fraser’s drowsy, cryptic vocals is also just incredible, as are the bright keys towards the end and the concluding electric guitar riff.

Not all that dissimilarly from Milk & Kisses, I kind of think of this album as having two outros in one as well. Both A Kissed Out Red Floatboat and Ella Megalast Burls Forever retain a degree of that sensational Blue Bell Knoll-atmosphere, but are much more blissful than the previous two tracks. The guitar and bass on the former track are so, so good, especially when paired with Fraser’s carefree singing, which culminates in these gleeful high notes. There’s these electronic-, synth-sounding drums (like on the title track), these soaring background noises, and these brief distorted guitar riffs that add so much texture to the song as well — it really could have made for an amazing outro, but there is ultimately another track on this album.

While the guitar and bass on Ella Megalast Burls Forever are perhaps even a little too sweet and joyful to rival those of A Kissed Out Red Floatboat, the performance from Fraser here is even better. On this track she frolicks in falsetto throughout the verses, while the choruses are far more raw and intense, yet equally exhilirating — the umpteenth brilliant contrast on this album, for that matter. The keys around the midpoint of this track, which almost sound like a marimba, also fit so well with the album’s dreamy sound. Ultimately, there is no better way to conclude the album than with Guthrie’s twangy, spacey guitar, with Fraser’s exuberant high notes on top.

Despite its tonal range, this is primarily just an incredibly blissful album.

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2. Four-Calendar Café (1993)

People are mostly quite ambivalent to this album — big Cocteau Twins fans included. Clearly, I am not — ambivalent, that is. The problem is that I don’t know how to convince anyone that this is, like, the best thing ever made, because to me it’s so self-explanatory. I do understand that this is quite the stylistic u-turn from Heaven or Las Vegas — and their previous music for that matter. I do understand that it’s more stripped back and traditionally composed as well. Okay. So what? Have you heard how it sounds?

Part of this album’s brilliance is the context behind this drastic change in style. Here it’s harder to let the music and its sounds speak for themselves, because everything is so clearly influenced by Elizabeth Fraser’s personal life — specifically the demise of her romantic relationship with Robin Guthrie. It influenced the more simplistic production style on the album, it influenced Fraser’s choice to go back to singing in English, and it influenced her lyrical content, which is far more coherent than on any other Cocteau Twins album. All of this is significant, and I guess I will circle back to it soon enough, but even if you disregard the album’s theme and context, it is just so fucking musically stunning.

Sonically, Four-Calendar Café is Cocteau Twins’ cleanest, purest and most pristine album. That may not sound as alluring as their other music, but somehow none of the Cocteaus’ magic is lost in this album’s simplicity — quite the opposite. Know Who You Are At Every Age, for instance, is not a track with many components. Simon Raymonde’s dreamy, rumbling bass and Elizabeth Fraser’s low-key, melancholic singing are really all you need, although the underlying bassline and acoustic guitar further enhance the track. More importantly, this song is a colossal moment within Cocteau Twins’ body of work not only for its relatively clearly pronounced lyrics, but also for its lyrical content. In my opnion it still isn’t that easy to make out exactly what Fraser is singing, but this song is rather unambiguously an introspective response to the end of Fraser’s relationship with Guthrie.

Maybe this is controversial, but I don’t even care about what exactly Fraser says on this song — again, it’s somewhat hard to tell anyway. Despite this album standing out for its lyrical coherency and explicit theme, I hardly see it as some lyrical masterclass on Elizabeth Fraser’s end. That is not to criticize her — quite the opposite, again. I think she does an incredible job of transmitting the emotions of a decade-plus long relationship in collapse through the mere sounds of her singing, as well as occasional turns of phrases. I struggle to follow the lyrics of this album from one line to another, but just hearing lines as straightforward as “I won’t heal unless I cry,” and “I can’t grieve so I won’t grow,” makes a tremendous difference for me by merely knowing the rough context behind them, and hearing the emotion with which they’re sung.

Indeed, I think the essence of Cocteau Twins continues to be found in the sonics. The major exceptions are those sporadic turns of phrases and the explicit real-life context behind this album, which both complement the album’s sonical aspects and enhance their emotional impact. The core remains the music, and as much as Elizabeth Fraser remains the star, the atmosphere of this album is also a crucial component. It’s difficult to pinpoint, but incredibly emotive. Evangeline, the following song, further exemplifies this.

I think Evangeline is the true introduction to this album’s uniquely melancholic atmosphere. It’s not overtly depressing or dark, but simply sad. To that point, hte use of negative space throughout the album is incredible, no less so on this track. I absolutely adore Guthrie’s bright guitar on this, which sounds quite sad in and of itself, but its stabbing rhythm also create these quieter pockets where the song’s sadness can really linger. There are also these indistinct, atmospheric noises that dangle throughout this song, which I think are so, so brilliant, and a defining trait of this album. I kind of associate them with the items on the Four-Calendar Café album cover, in part due to their shared childlike, nostalgic connotations. On top of all of this is a stunning vocal performance from Elizabeth Fraser, which is so soft, heartfelt and melancholic, yet also somewhat emotionally ambiguous. “There is no going back, I can’t stop feeling now,”; “I am not the same, I’m growing up again,” — the emotional subtleties in how Elizabeth Fraser delivers these incredibly poignant lines in the chorus could be the subject of a thesis. And yet the outro may be my favorite part of this song, it’s one of the best things Cocteau Twins have ever made.

The mood then changes with Bluebeard, a song that is somewhat notorious for its supposed country influences. However, Robin Guthrie put it best:

“Things don’t influence us directly, but things do get through. To me, Bluebeard sounds nothing like country music. It just sounds like us playing a twangy guitar. So it was really a guitar that created that song. A big guitar. It’s just that if we do country it comes out sounding like Cocteau Twins. If we do anything it comes out sounding like Cocteau Twins.”

I, personally, had listened to this song so, so many times before I first someone mention how much it sounds like a country song, or had reflected upon it myself for that matter. I can hear it, but to me it just sounds like a Cocteau Twins song, and it happens to be one of my all-time favorites as well. Call it what you want, but that damned guitar is just incredible. In fact, I think there’s something wonky about it that is more reminiscent of the album’s sound at large than of country music specifically. On the other hand, the upbeat tone and high pace of this song make it really stand out from the rest of the album. When you strip it down, Bluebeard is really just a supremely catchy song. Elizabeth Fraser delivers one of her most straightforward vocal performances ever, but regularly hits some of her most beautiful high notes ever as well — especially towards the end of the track. At the same time, there is a Hey Ya-esque brilliance in how that contrasts with the song’s lyrics. The lyrics on this song may not be overtly sad, but they do center around the crumbling relationship between Fraser and Guthrie. Beyond the lyrics, in fact, there is also something a little bit funny about the song title effectively comparing the song’s guitarist to a man who murders his wives.

That same point can technically be applied to Theft, And Wandering Around Lost, but is entirely overshadowed by the fact that the song is downright tragic. While it doesn’t go into great lyrical detail — perhaps for the best — it ostensibly tackles Guthrie’s alleged sexual exploitation of Fraser. Thus, it is incredibly powerful for its lyrical content alone, but it’s also one of the most sonically stunning songs on the album. It is partially another masterclass in minimalist production, but most of it is just Fraser, who delivers her most heartfelt performance on the entire album — perhaps ever.

Oil Of Angels is another song with some ridiculously pure falsetto singing, but with a far more playful approach from Fraser — not too distant from what was heard on Blue Bell Knoll, also in its lack of lyrical content. The song has an especially simplistic, low-key instrumental that works exceptionally well with Fraser’s playfulness, especially with her use of negative space. As much as this instrumental is a little more boring than the true highlights on this album, I do adore that wonky synth you hear before the song’s final chorus — similarly to what you hear on Evangeline, but much more vivid and memorable. Again, these details are sprinkled all over the album, and I think they create this really comforting, nostalgic vibe, which aligns with the childlike album cover, created by Walter Wick of I Spy fame.

Squeeze-Wax then shines for all the same reasons as Bluebeard. It’s extremely bouncy and catchy, but never sounds remotely derivative — in part due to Fraser’s brilliance, and in part due to its sonical progression. That is one of the key factors as to why this album never gets longwinded or boring in spite of its relatively minimalist approach — almost every song has these passages where the instrumental suddenly changes, Fraser suddenly changes her melody, or she underlaps her lead vocals with mesmerizing harmonies and counter-melodies. This song has so many such details that I love — like the trembling synth (?) during the chorus that sounds like shooting star; like the key change (???) during the bridge following the second chorus; like the bubbling harmonies that break in and out of the mix during the final chorus. Aside from this being the album with Elizabeth Fraser’s prettiest vocals in my opinion, details like these are why I just cannot understand why anyone wouldn’t love this album.

If Four-Calendar Café has any flaws, it is not necessarily that the three tracks following Squeeze-Wax see a significant drop-off, but that they are somewhat sonically inconsistent. My Truth and Essence are two fantastic songs despite both being uniquely faint, slow-paced and minimalistic — almost ambient. As such, the album loses a bit of steam with these back-to-back tracks, even if they do further develop the album’s sound and narrative, and Fraser’s vocals remain so pretty and evocative. Even the next track, Summerhead, is also great, but it’s such a drastic contrast from the previous two tracks that the sequencing doesn’t really work. It has by far the heaviest drums on the albums — after two entirely drum-less songs, at that — and quite an angry, abrasive guitar riff. I still love how this guitar riff is contrasted by verses that are much more light and dreamy, in fact there are lots of things that are amazing about this track, but sonically it doesn’t really fit in. That is one of maybe two tiny stains on this album.

After all, the album certainly doesn’t end on a weak note. Pur once more follows the classic Cocteau Twins outro formula, with a slow, quiet buildup, and an explosive climax. While the buildup of this song doesn’t compare to that of Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires, the climax is one of the most powerful moments in the Cocteaus’ entire body of work. While there are mixed interpretations of the lyrical content, Fraser expresses an unmistakeable sense of triumphant bravery, emotional maturity and forgiveness that is incredibly cathartic. The ensuing guitar riff then seems to capture all the emotions that went into making the album.

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1. Heaven or Las Vegas (1990)

Heaven or Las Vegas is the best album I have ever heard.

I first listened to this album at some point during the summer of 2024, and while some of the songs stuck, I wasn’t fully blown away, and I didn’t come back to it for a while.

In January, 2025 I would revisit some of the songs on this album, and began listening to it from front to back. It didn’t take long before it cemented itself as my favorite album of all time. This is what got me into Cocteau Twins in the first place, and I have grown much, much more familiar with their music ever since.

The reason why I bring this is up is that some have accused this album of being generic, claiming that the real fans prefer the group’s earlier music. Well, I respect all (music) opinions, but I think I’m qualified to say that I am a pretty huge Cocteau Twins fan, and I still hold this as easily their best album.

To balance out my constant praise of Elizabeth Fraser, let me say that the reason why this is undoubtedly my favorite Cocteau Twins album is that it is undoubtedly their best-produced album. Everything is so textured, colorful, groovy, atmospheric and powerful — unlike anything they had ever previously made. Part of what distinguishes it from Cocteau Twins’ earlier music is that it sounds more dense and modern, but on the production side of things I think the defining trait of this album will always be the shoegaze influence. No less so because it already sounds so otherwordly beyond that aspect — and this is something I want to emphasize: as much as this album is seen as being slightly more generic, I think one of its premier qualities is how uniquely beautiful it is. That is obviously subjective, but I truly think the way this album sounds is unbelievable, and the shoegaze moments play a crucial role in that.

Those screeching distorted electric guitars are all over the title track, they might never be louder and more overwhelming than in the final stretch of Fotzepolitic, but they’re also one of the main reasons why Iceblink Luck might really be my favorite Cocteau Twins song. The first thing you hear on this song is a deep distorted guitar that just moans into the mix, but as incredible as this sounds in and of itself, the highlight of the song is the roaring, pulsating melody that follows. While there are a number of earlier songs with shoegaze-like influences, there are ultimately few Cocteau Twins songs where the electric guitar is so distorted that it sounds like something completely the different — the essence of shoegaze, one might say. Well, Iceblink Luck is perhaps the main exception. The lead melody on this song is almost tear-inducing in its beauty. Consistent with its shoegaze influence, this album is absolutely drenched in different effects, which is perhaps not the most flattering way to put things, but this approach really only enhances the listening experience — it might even be the bedrock of the album’s sound.

On Iceblink Luck, Elizabeth Fraser’s performance is notable not only because she’s a pretty good singer, but also because she deviates from her “typical” falsetto vocals. For much of this album, in fact, har vocals are much more raw and passionate, and while her non-verbal soprano approach was fundamental to her tremendous development as a vocalist, she sounds just as stunning on this album — not that she abandons her falsetto singing anyway. As for Iceblink Luck, the instrumental is already so relentless and blissful during the verses, but the song culminates during the chorus, where the instrumental is at its absolute loudest, and Fraser is at her most impassioned. No matter how many times I’ve heard it before, it is always overwhelmingly powerful.

By all means, there is a lot more to this album than the shoegaze-inspired culminations. The intro, Cherry-coloured Funk, is a much slower track, but really doesn’t test your patience at all — the instrumental is incredibly rich, thick and colorful, for starters. Now, over time I have semi-subconsciously begun to perceive the album cover of Heaven or Las Vegas as depicting these red and blue fluids that contain the sound(s) of this album, or perhaps its flavor. In turn, I associate that bizarre association most with this song for whatever reason — I guess it just sounds quite liquidy and flavorful. This is the Heaven or Las Vegas songs with the most streams on Spotify by a huge margin, and I am obviously far too cool to rank this as one of the very best songs on this album, but it is a sensational intro nonetheless. I have listened to this album from front to back close to 100 times since the start of 2025, and I’m still not tired of turning it on and hearing this song kick into my eardrums. By all means, this song also contains one of Elizabeth Fraser’s rangiest vocal performances, and those high points in particular are just mesmerizing.

The following track, Pitch the Baby, is emblematic of how modern and futuristic the production on this album is. No need to beat around the bush; I think this is the coolest-sounding song ever, I fucking love every single thing about it. I love the bassline, I love the thick, punchy drums, I LOVE the droning whatever-the-fuck-that-is in the distance, and I guess that other thing is a guitar loop, but it sure sounds like something way cooler, which I also absolutely adore. And I love how profoundly hazy, atmospheric and trippy the entire song sounds. That includes Elizabeth Fraser, who happens to deliver the coolest vocal performance of all time. Obviously, the vocal effects carry some enormous weight here, but it’s the end result that matters — on this song especially. How does she make those fucking sounds man? I get that this doesn’t actually give anyone reading an idea of how she sounds, but this is really one of those tracks where you know what I’m talking about if you’ve heard it, and if you haven’t heard it then you just need to listen to it. In any case, Pitch the Baby is the main reason why I object to this album occasionally being described as the basic Cocteau Twins album with pop appeal.

Fifty-fifty Clown is like a mix of Cherry-coloured Funk and Pitch the Baby, in the sense that it’s slower and kind of has that liquidy sound like the former, but also has hints of that hazy, droning sound of the latter — Fraser also sounds a bit ghost-like, although certainly with less effects. It’s a bit of a slow-burner that became one of my favorite Cocteau Twins songs around the same time I truly fell in love with this album. It already has such a cool atmosphere for the first two minutes or so, but it’s when Fraser’s soprano vocals and this weeping distorted guitar kick in that the sound of the song really progresses — eventually it sounds completely different, and you have all these different layers interplaying in perfect harmony.

And then we get to the title track. I must emphasize that I am too cool for this to be one of my very favorite Cocteau Twins songs as well, but what can I say? It’s an incredible song. Despite its blatant pop appeal, I think the elements of distortion prevent this song from sounding remotely generic — especially that guitar solo riff from Guthrie leading up to the final chorus. Speaking of the chorus, it once more sees Fraser put her heart and soul into her vocals as the instrumental is at its loudest and most powerful — another incredibly cathartic moment, akin to Iceblink Luck. The screeching electric guitars that are found all over this track are also worth a shout-out. I mean, I really can’t downplay this song — it’s a masterpiece.

Then, it’s time for me to confront the reality that the album falls off somewhat. However, while I genuinely used to get a little sad every time I was past the first five songs on this album, I have since become more and more convinced that the next four tracks only cement this as the best album ever made. None of them are quite as good as any of the first five tracks, but those are some of my favorite songs ever. By no means does that prevent the following four tracks from being amazing in their own rights.

I Wear Your Ring is one of the more subtly shoegaze-inspired songs on the album, with this unrecognizably obscured, weeping guitar. Aside from having a melancholic sound, this song also sounds incredibly drowsy, making it an excellent slow-burner. The pacified, somber instrumental then serves an excellent backdrop to Fraser’s heartfelt, cryptic vocals, which culminate with these impassioned shouts that are enchantingly contrasted by these underlapping soprano vocals. With how spacey these vocals are, it creates such a trippy effect as they sort of melt into each other — again, this album isn’t so basic after all.

Fotzepolitic is also worth revisiting. Compared to the best songs on the album, I do think this one sounds a little more generic for the first minute or two, but it’s certainly still strong, and it brilliantly builds up to quite a passionate chorus, which is really nothing compared to the instrumental sequence that follow — complete insanity, in the best way possible. Easily the most sonically overpowering moment on the album, which is saying a lot.

Now, if the title track is a slightly worse version of Iceblink Luck, Wolf in the Breast is perhaps a slightly worse version of Cherry-coloured Funk. That, of course, is a compliment. The live version of this song actually sounds a lot cooler, which is ironic because my favorite part of this song is the chorus, consisting of two Elizabeth Frasers, which was difficult to replicate on stage apparently. In fact, the chorus eventually consists of three different vocal layers, and while you can never have enough Elizabeth Frasers, I guess it’s three is fine. Actually, it’s pretty mesmerizing.

As for the penultimate track, Road, River and Rail used to be my undisputed least favorite on this album, but it certainly isn’t anymore. Not too dissimilarly from Fifty-fifty Clown, it’s another slow-burner with a darker sound that really only gets better as it goes on. I love its gloomy, arcadian and, I guess, Scottish sound (the pronunciation of the song title especially) — it’s a really cool futuristic take on something Cocteau Twins might otherwise have made on an album like Treasure. Fraser’s high notes are also amazing, especially when paired with those darker, slightly distorted turns the instrumental takes. I would never skip this song, it’s fantastic.

Although tracks 6–9 are still a little weaker, the outro nonetheless ensures that Heaven or Las Vegas is worthy of the title of the best album ever made. Again, I think Pur’s climax outdoes the one on Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires, but none of Cocteau Twins’ trademark outros even come close to this one in terms of their quality from start to end. I once saw someone exclaim that there are so many different details that make this an incredible song, and as much as that is an almost comically vague observation in and of itself, I can’t help but find it to be quite succinct.

This song has so many distinct phases, and they all seamlessly transition into one another. To that point, what distinguishes Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires from the other trademark Cocteau Twins outros is that its buildup phase is far more gripping, in fact you can even break that sequence into different phases. The highlight of the track remains the chorus, which is as explosive as ever, but particularly notable for Fraser’s slightly monotonous and awkwardly fast-paced vocals — backed by these wonderfully passionate falsetto harmonies — which are suddenly interrupted by these incredibly passionate, and equally incomprehensible outbursts. It is one of Fraser’s most delightful pieces of gibberish ever, and rightfully perhaps her most notorious. What then makes this outro even more unique is that it reverts to those more low-key phases after the climax. This is just an ingeniously composed song, deeply enjoyable for all of its five minutes and 38 seconds. What better note to end on?

EP’s and Singles

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16. Otherness (1995)

This is a remix EP of Feet-like Fins, Cherry-coloured Funk, Violaine and Seekers Who Are Lovers, produced by Mark Clifford. It is the weirdest thing Cocteau Twins have ever put out, and easily also the worst. If I were to describe this EP as Cocteau Twins meets Aphex Twin it might sound really cool, but that’s like the last thing it is — above all, it is really quite boring.

Indeed, this EP has this icy, futuristic and stripped back techno production, which may be somewhat reminiscent of Selected Ambient Works 85–92, but really isn’t nearly as groovy or, most importantly, atmospheric. And yet the songs are still quite long — this whole thing is four tracks long, and spans for over 22 minutes. Additionally, the Elizabeth Fraser vocal samples that are sprinkled throughout seem pretty carelessly selected, and rarely ever fit that well with the instrumental backdrop.

The back-story of this EP is that this techno artist sent a copy of More Like Space, an EP he had made with his band Seefeel, to Cocteau Twins, and to his surprise they really liked it and asked to collaborate with him. Now, I’ve skimmed through this Seefeel EP, as well as their 1993 album Quique, and what’s really unfortunate is that both sound really, really cool. Like, frankly, I was initially amused by the thought that the Cocteaus found this somewhat obscure, shitty artist, went “Wow, we NEED to collab!” and then put out the worst thing they’ve ever made. On the other contrary, Mark Clifford is clearly a gifted musician, and I cannot blame the group for liking his music whatsoever. I guess it just wasn’t a good fit. In any case, I do intend to check out both More Like Space and Quique when I’m finally done with this article, and I might even recommend you to do so as well.

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15. Peppermint Pig (1983)

Following the release of Garlands in 1982, Cocteau Twins really didn’t stray too far away from the sound of that album on their ensuing EP’s. However, I think it is on Peppermint Pig that you can hear the first steps away from that gritty post-punk sound — indeed, Head Over Heels was released later that same year.

The title track exemplifies this well. It’s still post-punk, but has a very refreshing approach compared to the stuff Cocteau Twins had previously done. It’s very tight and punchy, creating this oddly groovy sound, complemented by a super catchy, charismatic and rangy Elizabeth Fraser performance.

This is one of those singles that Cocteau Twins released both a 7" version and a 12" version of, and while I didn’t have a preference originally, I have grown to think that the latter is far, far better. The drums are so much more thick and violent, the guitar riff sounds dirtier, there are more elements of distortion throughout the track, there’s even an added sense of spookiness to the track, and on top of that it’s about a minute and a half longer, without making it drag whatsoever.

Unfortunately, the other two tracks on this EP aren’t quite as interesting. Laughlines is fine, and even slightly similar instrumentally to Peppermint Pig, but just completely lacks that punchiness, is quite slow-paced, and barely includes Elizabeth Fraser at all. Hazel is a lot punchier, with its relentless drum machines, but it kind of lacks groove. Fraser instead appears a lot more on this one, and honestly carries the song with a really wild, playful and shouty — almost whiny, quite frankly — vocal performance.

That’s the EP — two versions of Peppermint Pig, and two other songs that are relatively solid. It’s not an essential listen, but I like it, and definitely think the title track is worth a listen.

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14. Tishbite 1 & 2 (1996)

This was the double single Cocteau Twins released in the leadup to Milk & Kisses, generously giving the fans a five-song preview of the album that was to come at the time — for better or worse.

To say that I’ve made my somewhat complicated feelings on Milk & Kisses clear would not be entirely accurate. In any case I want to reiterate that, as much as I enjoy it and think it’s full of amazing songs, there are some things about this album that bug me. I think the essential point is that it consists of certain songs that seem to be highly meaningful to Elizabeth Fraser, but for which it’s hard to decode why. Sonically, there is a profound sentimentality to these songs, but I occasionally struggle to fully connect with it, as much as I fully respect the ostensibly therapeutic purpose of these songs.

Furthermore, people do criticize Cocteau Twins’ music from this era for being bland and generic, and there is something to that critique. That issue is also not helped by the relative lack of range on Milk & Kisses, which is actually a greater issue with these singles, in my opinion. That pristine, sentimental sound can get a little tiresome, but there’s really nothing that I dislike on here, in fairness.

I absolutely love the title track, as mentioned, and I think Primitive Heart is an excellent song as well. A little bit difficult to interpret while sounding quite sentimental, sure, but it also sounds so good that it doesn’t really matter. Above all, I think this is the umpteenth testament to how incredible of a vocalist Elizabeth Fraser is, and I feel like there is way more to that than I’ve touched on in this article. For instance, she was (or is, whatever) not just an incredibly gifted singer, but might have been even better at coming up with delightfully idiosyncratic rhythms and melodies. There is a complexity to it that I think is more reminiscent of hip-hop than of pop or rock music — although I guess you shouldn’t ask me. Regardless of if it makes her an anomaly or not, the way she plays with those off-key notes, elongates certain words and almost sings in this triplet flow on this song is wonderful.

Round is also great. For much of this duration, it actually doesn’t deviate too much from the average Milk & Kisses-era song. The guitar riff sounds quite similar to the one on Tishbite, and Elizabeth Fraser’s passionate vocals are mixed, layered and performed in a way that is defining of this period. The first two minutes or so are nice, but not extraordinary. But it’s as that distorted guitar eventually kicks in that the song really gains some depth, and it ultimately ends in Cocteau Twins’ perhaps most unambiguous attempt at shoegaze. It’s a stylistic twist that works emphatically, especially as more layers and components are gradually implemented — a Cocteau Twins classic.

Unfortunately, I just don’t have as much to say about Flock Of Soul and An Elan. They are legitimately nice songs, but ultimately sound like Milk & Kisses leftovers — I don’t revisit them too often.

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13. Lullabies (1982)

Lullabies was released only a few months after Garlands, and as alluded to it doesn’t exactly see Cocteau Twins head in a new direction. However, I wouldn’t go as far as to say that if you’ve heard Garlands, you’ve heard Lullabies.

Actually, I think this EP is a rare case of the production carrying the load somewhat. It sounds even rougher, dirter and angrier than on Garlands, while also going in a more fast-paced and hard-hitting direction, which I absolutely think was the right choice.

Feathers Oaf-Blades, especially, is such a nasty song. The pacing is different from anything you hear on Garlands, with the drum machine once more providing a unique edge to the punk sound, consisting of an incredible guitar riff and a pulsating bassline. Elizabeth Fraser also holds her own — as accustomed you become to her later music, she never starts to sound out of place on a post-punk track. Both on Garlands and Lullabies, her vocals are quite raw and wild, in a way that sounds authentic and certainly fit the post-punk sound. Nonetheless, I find the results to be somewhat hit-or-miss on this EP. As for Feathers Oaf-Blades, I wouldn’t say she elevates the track, even if she delivers a good performance.

Despite her rawness on the following track, Alas Dies Laughing, I think Fraser’s vocals really fit the song’s menacing sound. It’s a lot more slow-paced than Feathers Oaf-Blades, but I think it’s a tight track that works in a similar way many of the songs on Garlands work.

Then comes It’s All But an Ark Lark, which is Cocteau Twins’ longest song by a decent margin. While it’s not necessarily my favorite Cocteau Twins song from this era, I think it might be their most impressive and/or artistically ambitious one. The song structure is quite unique, for starters, as the song opens up with these distorted electric guitars, complemented by this odd laughter that almost doesn’t sound human, before abruptly erupting into yet another post-punk banger. I love the relentless pace, the violent, futuristic drums, the bassline, and Fraser’s use of repetition in her verse. It’s really an incredibly strong start to the track, but unfortunately it does lose some steam as it goes on… only to suddenly regain it again. As such, I think the song length is largely justified. It tests your patience, but also rewards you for it. I also think it’s fun that this is one of those songs where Fraser somewhat subtly says the title of the track.

In the end, this isn’t my favorite Cocteau Twins EP or anything, but I am legitimately a fan of it, and I would strongly recommend it to anyone who loves Garlands.

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12. Violaine 1 & 2 (1996)

Following Milk & Kisses, it’s clear that Cocteau Twins initially planned to continue making new music. In fact, they would release the Violaine double single just months later. While it ultimately doesn’t stray too far from the sound of Milk & Kisses, which had already become pretty worn out at this point, there are clear signs of a new musical direction for the group — although it never amounted to anything else; this was essentially the last thing they ever released.

The title track is great, of course (I’m assuming you’ve read this entire article up to this point), and I think Smile is quite nice as well. The vocals from Elizabeth Fraser certainly sound like something you’ve heard on a handful of other Milk & Kisses-era songs, but are pretty nonetheless. More importantly, I think the instrumental is quite innovative, with its distinct, hollow-sounding bass (?) loop. Beyond being a stylistic breath of fresh air, I think it works alongside Fraser’s dreamy, sentimental vocals. The instrumental to Tranquil Eye is fantastic for almost the exact same reasons — it has a strong minimalist and even slightly futuristic pop influence that pairs really well with its more traditional aspects. Fraser’s vocals on this song are incredibly soft, playful and catchy too.

Circling Girl then sounds like it could have fit as the official final Cocteau Twins track. It’s less dramatic and monumental than both Treasure Hiding and, especially, Seekers Who Are Lovers, but there is a profound, beautiful bittersweetness to it that really appears to signal the end. The electric guitar riff is quite reminiscent of Pur, one of Cocteau Twins’ most emotive songs, and Fraser’s passionate falsetto vocals further intensify the track. It really is quite powerful, and it really could have been the final Cocteau Twins track. But it isn’t.

The Violaine double single concludes with Alice, which is easily one of the most unique Cocteau Twins songs out there. I initially thought the instrumental bore an immensely striking resemblance to the score of some late 90s/early 2000s drama film. Sure enough it does feature in the 1996 film Stealing Beauty. That distinctly cinematic vibe is interesting, I think the song clearly has a groove, and there’s also some cool vocal experimentation from Fraser here, but to me this just isn’t Cocteau Twins. I don’t mean to put them in a box, nor to discourage experimentation, but on this track they just produce something that feels so estranged from what made them great over the years. In that sense, I suppose it doesn’t come as a shock that the band broke up soon after, although it should be said that this wasn’t their final track either.

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11. The Spangle Maker (1984)

My thoughts on this EP are somewhat mixed. I imagine it might be some people’s favorite Cocteau Twins single/EP. It certainly isn’t mine, but sure, it has its highlights. The only problem, if any, is the title track.

The Spangle Maker used to be my least favorite Cocteau Twins song by quite a significant margin. It’s incredibly slow-paced, and its instrumental consists of this raw, rumbling bassline, a pretty basic drum pattern, and some distorted electric guitars sprinkled on top. Those are elements I’ve always been mostly indifferent towards. What really used to bug me was Fraser’s repetitive verses, which I thought sounded downright whiny, while the song’s repetitive nature was also quite tedious — it remains true that it doesn’t really go anywhere for the first three and a half minutes or so. Until it does, of course. And when it does, it really does. Even when I largely disliked this song, I couldn’t deny that Cocteau Twins always knew how to pull off these explosive culminations. Seeing as I have grown more indifferent towards Fraser’s vocals over time, I really don’t mind this track, but given how long it takes to explode, it’s not something I revisit too often.

However, the other songs on this EP are really, really good. Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops, of course, is one of Cocteau Twins’ most celebrated songs. I may not be quite as big a fan — it’s almost a little bit too sweet and pristine to rank as one of my all-time favorite Cocteau Twins songs — but it’s a super neatly composed track, the instrumental is really nice, and the chorus is truly a masterpiece. The idiosyncrasy of Fraser’s rhythms, sounds and melodies, in several interplaying layers, is a Cocteau Twins staple, and perhaps the principal reason why this song is so catchy. It’s obviously an absolute classic. I can’t even object to the 12" version, in spite of its melodramatic intro being a little silly.

While I’m not opposed to the monumental legacy of Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops, I will say that Pepper-Tree is absolutely an even better song. It’s a cliché to call Cocteau Twins’ music “magical”, but clichés are not necessarily inaccurate, and regardless, I would rather describe this song as sounding like magic — if that distinction makes any sense. There’s certainly an air of mystery about it. There are those bright guitars, which almost sound like a mixture of strings and a piano. Then there’s that extremely dark yet melodic bassline, and those spacey drums that give the song a futuristic sound. The drum pattern itself does so, so much for the incredible groove of this track, in fact, which Fraser perfectly plays off of. She’s the one who really sells the mystique of this track, with those falsetto vocals that are briefly sung off-key with great intentionality, and those high notes that rhythmically echo in the background.

Beyond this song’s mystical sound, though, I think what makes this such an amazing song is how tight and punchy it is. The instrumental is so well-composed, and aside from how magical Fraser’s vocals sound in and of themselves, there is also such a playful, creative approach to how she constructs them. This is just such a good song on so many levels — there’s even that really old-sounding clock towards the end, which somehow adds to the mystical atmosphere. Masterpiece.

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10. Echoes in a Shallow Bay (1985)

The mid-1980s were a really interesting time for Cocteau Twins. As previously alluded to, they followed up Treasure with quite the stylistic u-turn, but only if we look at the albums they released in 1986: Victorialand and The Moon and the Melodies. Simultaneously, the mid-1980s were Cocteau Twins’ most prolific era in terms of singles and EP’s, and it largely saw them continuing to experiment with the dream pop sound — much more so than on their 1986 albums.

I think of this as something of a lost era for Cocteau Twins — cumulatively, there is plenty of great music on these EP’s, but they were also defined a number of stylistic directions that were never expanded on in the form of an album. I think it’s a shame, although I suppose you ought to be thankful for what you’ve got.

Echoes in a Shallow Bay was released only a couple weeks following Tiny Dynamine, which Robin Guthrie has lauded for how it sounds — that is, on a technical level. And I think it’s something you can hear on this record as well. In fact, if the EP’s from this era serve as precursors to any Cocteau Twins albums, I think it has to be Heaven or Las Vegas, which partially stands out for how crisp, sharp and pristine it sounds, in spite of both its dreamy and abrasive elements.

I think Tiny Dynamine and Echoes in a Shallow Bay, especially, sound somewhat similar to Heaven or Las Vegas. These EP’s see the Cocteaus move away from the raw, gothic elements of Treasure, and towards a richer pop sound, which certainly remains quite dark, mystical and dreamy. This is already apparent on the opening of Great Spangled Fritillary, with its light percussion, that deep, drilling sound (I’m sorry, I can’t identify the instrument on this one) and that distorted electric guitar. It sets an eerie tone that serves as an excellent backdrop for quite a wild Elizabeth Fraser vocal performance. She has this unique chant-like approach to her vocals on this EP, and the highlight of this is the explosive conclusion of this track. It sounds incredibly mystical, like something from many, many centuries ago, yet it’s exceedingly catchy and really fits on the dark, dreamy and slightly futuristic instrumental. The truth is that the song drags a little before this monumental conclusion, but I think it’s an excellent song for that conclusion alone.

On the topic of chant-like singing, the following track, Melonella, starts with one instantly. The bass on this track almost sounds like these pulsating keys, and further highlights the stylistic evolution the group underwent on these EP’s. Now, the issue with this EP is that, while it’s consistently solid, the highs aren’t particularly high, and I think this song is the best example. In any case, I think Pale Clouded White might be the best song on this record. Fraser’s dark, chant-like vocals pair extremely well with a particularly Heaven or Las Vegas-esque instrumental. The latter really has so many great components — the pulsating bass, the menacing distorted electric guitar, the sharp, Plain Tiger-like strings, the dark, spacey choir samples. I think it’s here that the group’s musical evolution is most apparent.

The EP then concludes with Eggs and Their Shells, which is the closest thing to a more traditional 80s pop song on this thing, although even this sounds like somewhat of a precursor to Heaven or Las Vegas. I love the rich, dreamy instrumental, and Fraser’s soft, somewhat jittery falsetto vocals are also fantastic. This is a song that never really goes anywhere, but beyond that I have no complaints. Echoes in a Shallow Bay is an EP that has grown on me quite a lot, and I’m increasingly convinced that the Heaven or Las Vegas sound was born when Cocteau Twins made this and Tiny Dynamine.

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9. Aikea-Guinea (1985)

This was the EP that started that aforementioned mid-80s run from Cocteau Twins, and I think that’s clear from the music — in the sense that this comes at an earlier stage of the group’s musical evolution.

The title track actually bears somewhat of a resemblance to Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops, in its dreamy and almost glittery atmosphere. It’s a song held in extremely high regard by Robin Guthrie, and I think we have to agree to disagree. It’s absolutely a great song, with an incredibly varied vocal performance from Elizabeth Fraser, and enough twists and turns to avoid getting longwinded, but its pacing is just so slow. To use Guthrie’s words, I don’t think there are too many Cocteau Twins songs that it “pisses” on.

It’s really the more forgotten songs on this EP that are more interesting to me. Whereas Guthrie specifically called Aikea-Guinea one of Cocteau Twins’ most underrated songs, I think Kookaburra and Quisquose rank far higher on that list. The former is as dreamy and atmospheric as the title track, but distinguishes itself with its fast, relentless pacing and abrasive distorted electric guitar sequences. To that point, I think this is another mid-80s precursor to Heaven or Las Vegas. The instrumental of this song also brings out an even livelier falsetto performance from Fraser than on Aikea-Guinea, and she really does an incredible job on every track she’s involved in on this EP. Her rhytmic and melodic creativity on Kookaburra is amazing, but it’s on Quisquose that she delivers what I’m increasingly convinced is one of her all-time great vocal performances.

The instrumental on this song is actually somewhat generic, but it does not matter. At all. There is perhaps no better testament to Fraser’s unique traits as a vocalist than this song. Even during the verses, she’s kind of just shouting like a maniac, and it’s genuinely fantastic, but it doesn’t compare to her high notes during the chorus. She is not the first nor last to understand the concept of style over substance, but I think this chorus establishes her as a one-of-one vocalist. It’s quite often that her “noises” are rather obscured by the group’s recording techniques, but on this song they are sung with such immense power and conviction that you couldn’t possibly hear them more clearly, and as bizarre as those noises are, they’re profoundly mesmerizing. I’m also just consistently blown away by how shameless and unfiltered this vocal performance is. The reality is that Fraser was insecure about her struggles with writing lyrics, but she shouldn’t have been, and this chorus sounds like her completely owning her non-verbal vocal approach, taking pride in its unique beauty. Maybe that’s just fan-fiction, but in any case it doesn’t change how good it sounds.

The EP then concludes with Rococo, an instrumental song which I am inclined to just ignore given how much I’ve written up to this point, but I do think it’s really cool — like a reimagination of their earlier post-punk sound.

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8. Evangeline (1993)

This was the single Cocteau Twins released prior to Four-Calendar Café, and aside from the title track, but I actually think it also serves as a stylistic precursor to Milk & Kisses, and not just a preview of Four-Calendar Café.

Mud And Dark in particular sounds like it could easily feature on Milk & Kisses, with its sweet, groovy guitar loop, minimalist instrumental, and that trademark layered falsetto style from Elizabeth Fraser. On the other hand, I think it has a faint, underlying melancholy that is more reminiscent of Four-Calendar Café. In any case, it’s exactly what you’d want from a Cocteau Twins single from around this time.

Summer-Blink similarly has that same vocal style, and is somewhat unspectacular, but I love the slightly wonky guitar, the warm, fuzzy atmosphere and Fraser’s instant singing.

Then there’s the title track, which is one of Cocteau Twins’ best songs, and that’s it. There’s a real lack of fat on this thing, it’s really good.

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7. Bluebeard (1994)

This single was released a few months after Four-Calendar Café, and continues to tether the line between that album and the one that would follow: Milk & Kisses.

Firstly, the title track is one of Cocteau Twins’ very best songs. I have made that clear before and have nothing more to add. It’s the other songs that are more interesting to discuss anyway.

For the most part, Three Swept is actually more reminiscent of Four-Calendar Café — in the best way possible. I absolutely love the bubbly, aquatic instrumental on this, it really pulls off that faint, melancholic atmosphere from Four-Calendar Café, but takes it in slightly more modern direction. Elizabeth Fraser then delivers a rather predictably soft vocal performance during the verses, but the chorus is just stunning. It’s so pure and pretty, but above all I find it oddly comforting.

Ice Pulse is one of the first times we hear the vocal style that ended up being so prominent on Milk & Kisses, and overall it makes for a less lively and slightly slower song, but I absolutely love the chorus on this one as well. Firstly, it’s just as warm, pretty and comforting as the chorus of Three Swept on Fraser’s part, but I also love how the instrumental evolves, with this shoegaze-like guitar soaring in the background. It should also be said that the main guitar loop on this song follows a near-identical melody to Love’s Easy Tears, although the vibe of this song is quite different.

Lastly, the acoustic version of Bluebeard unfortunately sees it lose almost all of its magic, but I don’t mind that it exists — it’s a fun idea, even if it isn’t anywhere near as good as the original.

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6. Sunburst and Snowblind (1983)

This was the EP Cocteau Twins released shortly after Head Over Heels, and follows a similar stylistic trajectory.

Firstly, this EP contains an alternative version of Sugar Hiccup, which, like most other alternative Cocteau Twins singles, has really grown on me after initial skepticism. This version notably sounds much spacier, the electric guitar sounds more vivid, and Elizabeth Fraser also adds some playful non-verbal vocals to the song as well. I do still prefer the original album version, but there’s nothing wrong with this one.

Then there’s From the Flagstones, which opens up about as strongly as any Cocteau Twins song. The guitar and bass have this really dark, guttural sound to them, and Fraser’s spacey vocals are incredibly powerful. It is the rest of the song that I have previously been less crazy about, but recently I have come to love the dreamier turn it takes — I think it really evolves the profoundly melancholic tone of the intro, which seems to mirror its yearnful lyrical theme. Indeed, this may be the most lyrically comprehensible Cocteau Twins song out there, and I think that is quite special in and of itself. Fraser’s vocal range and emotion really, really elevate this track as well. I think this is a total masterpiece.

Then, Hitherto is more of a post-punk track with a spacey, melodic touch, remeniscent of Head Over Heels. The guitar here is super dark and gritty, and I also love the slightly rawer bass and the thick, spacey drums. Fraser also delivers a really passionate performance, and while the song is a little repetitive, it’s definitely strong overall.

Finally, Because of Whirl-Jack is even more reminiscent of Head Over Heels, but simultaneously also quite a drastic step in a new direction compared to the other songs on the EP. The pacing is almost violently relentless, but equally as groovy, and the song wastes no time getting started — the intro is just brilliant, and Fraser delivers an incredibly catchy and charismatic performance right from the start, although she does sound disturbingly American on this one.

This is about as consistently strong of an EP as Cocteau Twins have put out.

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5. Snow (1993)

A cover of Winter Wonderland, and a cover of Frosty the Snowman — it is hilarious how good this thing is. Like, I don’t have it in me to listen to these songs too often, but they are genuinely really, really, really good — easily my all-time favorite Christmas songs (alongside Player’s Ball). They’re every bit as dreamy and, frankly, cool as one could hope for.

It’s funny reading about how disgusted Elizabeth Fraser was by the idea of singing the lyrics to these silly Christmas songs, and then hearing how incredible it ended up sounding. In fairness, part of the charm of Frosty the Snowman is that she kind of drops the lyrics — at the very least, it’s incredibly difficult to hear what she’s saying for much of it. Perhaps it was an act of protest. It works either way. Frosty the Snowman is the song on here that gets the most love but I think both of these are so, so good. Seriously.

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4. Twinlights (1995)

This might not be the Cocteau Twins EP with the highest average quality, but conceptually I think it’s the best. Ironically enough, it shares some similarities with Otherness, which was released earlier the same year, and which I ranked last on this list. Without intending to use this word as a slur, both of these EP’s have an essential gimmick, as they both mostly consist of different interpretations of pre-existing Cocteau Twins songs — the only exception being Golden-Vein, which is exclusively found on this EP. In any case, it’s not more complicated than the techno remixes of Cocteau Twins being bad, and Elizabeth Fraser’s raw, acoustic Cocteau Twins covers being incredibly good.

My biggest takeaway from this EP is how much better both Rilkean Heart and Half-Gifts sound compared to their album equivalents. It’s hard not to think of that as being a little unfortunate, because while Pink Orange Red is a complete reimagination of a song that was a decade old at the time, the acoustic versions of Rilkean Heart and Half-Gifts remain quite similar to their album equivalents, and could easily have replaced them.

Again, I have mixed thoughts on the critiques of Milk & Kisses — for the most part I adore that album — but on these two tracks I do question the stylistic choices. In fairness, I think the album version of Rilkean Heart works really well for its own reasons, but the acoustic sound just suits the song more. It’s already a relatively personal and emotional song, that simply hits harder when Fraser’s vocals sound rawer, purer and more fragile. The acoustic instrumental also enhances the personal tone of the song. Most of the same applies to Half-Gifts too, but the difference is that the album version doesn’t work nearly as well, especially due to its spacey, fuzzy vocal mix, although I also don’t love its instrumental. The acoustic versions of both these songs feel a lot more stylistically coherent, and just sound so pure.

In any case, I don’t want to get caught up in how this EP highlights how Milk & Kisses could have been better. The main point is that Rilkean Heart and Half-Gifts just sound stunning — well, they don’t just sound stunning, they’re also quite emotionally touching.

Golden-Vein works for similar reasons. The instrumental and composition are both quite unique even among Cocteau Twins’ more stripped back music, but this song nonetheless fits well alongside the other tracks on the EP, and the song itself is fantastic — Fraser’s singing is so pure and packed with emotion, and those strings in the background are also beautiful.

Pink Orange Red certainly sticks out considering it’s a cover of a decade-old song at the time, whereas the remaining three songs were all relatively new — and ostensibly even thematically connected. On the other hand, the original version is quite dark and dramatic, which makes it fit really well on this EP. More notably, this is just a cool interpretation of a song that is so intense and textured in its original form. It’s not as good, but works really well for what it is.

This whole EP is just incredibly pretty, and further showcases how special the musical range of this group was. Perhaps most importantly, it is the umpteenth testament to how supremely talented Elizabeth Fraser is — clearly, she was never reliant on vocal effects.

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3. Love’s Easy Tears (1986)

Love’s Easy Tears is the best Cocteau Twins song that doesn’t appear on any of their albums, and it’s not even a little bit close. This song really feels like a colossal moment within the context of their body of work as a whole — not only due to how good it is, but also for its stylistic choices. Cocteau Twins might have started off as a post-punk band, and they might have implemented more abrasive elements into their 1985 EP’s Tiny Dynamine and Echoes in a Shallow Bay, but they had never, ever made anything like this before.

At its core, this is still a post-punk song. That ringing, pulsating guitar loop is just bone-chilling, and Elizabeth Fraser’s vocals are far rougher than on a song like Aikea-Guinea, released the year prior. At the same time, this song also shows how far the Cocteaus had come from their early post-punk days. As for Fraser, she had come to fully embrace her non-verbal singing, and sings with much greater conviction on this song. It makes for what is likely her most powerful vocal performance ever.

What also emphasizes the Cocteaus’ progress is their Wall of Sound approach. Even throughout the verses this approach produces a much more atmospheric sound, but the highlight of this song is the chorus — particularly the final one. As Elizabeth Fraser is at her rawest and most passionate, her voice echoes beyond the atmosphere, almost melting when mixed with those layers of disfigured electric guitars that hit you like a beam of sunlight at close range.

As far as I am concerned, the final minute of this song is as mind-blowing as anything you hear on My Bloody Valentine’s seminal Loveless. While it’s quite generous to categorize Cocteau Twins as shoegaze, Robin Guthrie was (and still is, I suppose) an absolute wizard when it comes to experimental recording techniques, and with that in mind it is hardly surprising that Cocteau Twins “did” shoegaze as well as they did. If anything, it’s a shame they didn’t tap into that sound a little more.

Predictably, the rest of Love’s Easy Tears does not quite meet the standard set by the title track, but it absolutely has other highlights. The other tracks actually continue to evolve the group’s dream pop sound, as they had begun to do in 1985. To that point, I think the defining trait of this album is how spacey Fraser’s vocals are throughout. It feels as though her melodic shouting is constantly ringing in your ears on this, which is an exceedingly pleasant sensation — perhaps even the quintessential Cocteau Twins-listening experience.

One might even say that the group went a little overboard with the Wall of Sound approach — this is the only thing they’ve made that sounds nearly as cloudy as this is Blue Bell Knoll. Despite their heavy use of experimental recording techniques and various effects over the years, though, I never feel as though it was for the worse. On this EP, it just happens to produce something that sounds particularly spacey.

When you combine that with Fraser’s particularly wild vocal approach, you get some truly magical moments — not only on the title track, but also on a track like Orange Appled. Instrumentally, this is like a Cocteau Twins remix of Do They Know It’s Christmas Time — it sounds exactly like a Christmas song from the 80s, but for whatever reason it works. In fact, it sounds like Cocteau Twins more than anything else.

It is still Fraser who steals the show, though, with her gleeful shouting, delightfully contrasted by some of her softest singing ever during the chorus, as those damned Christmas bells jingle in the background as well. Really, it’s pointless trying to put words to it, but this vocal performance honestly isn’t much less impressive than the one on Love’s Easy Tears — the melodies she comes up with on this song are unbelievable.

Those Eyes, That Mouth isn’t quite as blissful, but basically has the same appeal. Every track other than the title track actually sounds oddly Christmassy — Sigh’s Smell of Farewell as well. Other than Blue Bell Knoll, I really think this is the most dream-poppy thing Cocteau Twins ever put out. It’s extremely melodic and atmospheric, and Elizabeth Fraser delivers some of her most passionate and unique performances ever.

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2. Tiny Dynamine (1985)

As Robin Guthrie recalls, this EP was more or less strung together on accident, as the Cocteaus were merely testing out the sound of their new studio, but the result ended up being a masterpiece that just leaves me wanting more.

As alluded to, this EP trends in a direction of richer and purer dream pop. The closest thing to an album equivalent is Heaven or Las Vegas, also due to how sharp and pristine it sounds. Again, Guthrie has spoken highly about how this EP sounds on a technical level, and I think that is one of the more overlooked aspects of Heaven or Las Vegas. On the other hand, this EP is ultimately different, and one of the main differences is how dark its sound is. Pink Orange Red serves as a great example.

Beyond being dark tone and possessing an air of mystery, this song stands out for sounding rather dramatic — even bordering on melodramatic, although that doesn’t take away from how good it sounds. More specifically, those dark, dreamy strings are amazing, and I love how the intensity of the song shifts between the verses and the chorus. The guitar during the chorus and the subsequent bridge is shoegaze-like, and Fraser’s range on this is also incredible — the bit at the end where her more low-key lead vocals are contrasted by these really passionate counter-melodies is so, so good. Indeed, the whole thing also sounds distinctly well-defined in spite of its heavy use of reverb and feedback.

Ribbed and Veined then makes the spontaneous nature of this EP unsurprising — it’s an entirely instrumental track, although a really strong one that epitomizes the sound of this EP. I don’t think there is a Cocteau Twins song that sounds more like the 1980s than this one. That slightly cinematic synth is particularly unique for a Cocteau Twins song, although no more so than that cricket-sounding guiro (??) loop. I also love the bright guitar riff and that fuzzy, moaning bass, which might be the closest Cocteau Twins ever got to shoegaze prior to Love’s Easy Tears. Really, this song has a lot of nice components, and its only real flaw is the lack of vocals and the fact that it gets a little repetitive given that it’s nearly four minutes long. Still, I’m a big fan.

Then there’s Plain Tiger — a song you wish the Cocteaus had created an entire album around. There are a lot of things that I love about it, but above all there are two components worth naming: the acoustic guitar and Elizabeth Fraser’s verses. That acoustic guitar is so incredibly sharp — to the extent that it almost sounds electric. I fully recognize that this is a corny analogy given the song title, but it really does claw into the mix, almost like a tiger. I also love how this guitar alternates with Fraser’s dark, subdued soprano vocals, which are just hypnotic in and of themselves. This song then has another great shift in tone and intensity as the chorus kicks in, similarly to Pink Orange Red. I think that dynamic works even better on this song — even if the shouty choruses from Fraser don’t grab you quite as much as her verses. I think this is easily one of the best non-album Cocteau Twins songs.

Although Plain Tiger is a tough act to follow, Sultan Itan does a pretty great job. The strings on this alone make it worth listening to, they’re just so dreamy. Beyond that I love how groovy and bouncy this song is, as well as how it, too, suddenly becomes much more loud and abrasive during the chorus. It’s not as tightly composed as Plain Tiger, but its more spontaneous, carefree feel is a tremendous strength in and of itself. Fraser really erupts during the chorus, and it’s incredibly beautiful — especially when complemented by the fuzzy distorted guitar in the background.

I can’t help but wish this were more than just an EP, but I’m mostly just thankful it exists.

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1. Iceblink Luck (1990)

If I had listened to this at the time when it was released, I think I would have been pretty excited about the album that was to come soon after. Iceblink Luck is perhaps Cocteau Twins’ very best song, and Mizake the Mizan and Watchlar are also great samples of the Heaven or Las Vegas sound, although I guess they lack the intensity that some of the songs on that album have. Nonetheless, I think the greatest commonality between this single and Heaven or Las Vegas is how good they sound — that is, technically, as I presume Robin Guthrie would describe it. It’s all so refined and pristine, without compromising on any of its magic.

Instrumentally, Mizake the Mizan is reminiscent of Wolf in the Breast — for the most part it only really consists of a pretty basic guitar loop and a drum machine, but Elizabeth Fraser’s singing is so soft and spacey that it creates this dreamy atmosphere almost by itself, although the slow pacing also helps. Additionally, those soaring distorted guitars towards the end add another really nice element to the track, but its greatest strength remains its simplicity — this is an amazing song.

By contrast, Watchlar’s brilliance partly lies in how unique it is. That sharp, electronic bass loop is unlike anything that is found in the rest of Cocteau Twins’ discography, and therefore intrigues you from the moment the song starts, and while the rest of the song sounds increasingly similar to Pitch the Baby, that is an enormous strength in and of itself. Mizake the Mizan is nice, but this song really gives you a sample of how both fresh and enchanting Heaven or Las Vegas is.

Just three absolute hitters.

Other songs…

10. Perhaps Some Other Aeon (1982)

Listen, all of Cocteau Twins’ post-punk stuff is at least decent, and has cool components — this song is no exception, but I just think it’s a little rough, loose and unfocused. In fact, considering how massively overrepresented she is in the praise I’ve given the Cocteaus in this article, I think it’s fair for me to say that it’s Elizabeth Fraser who doesn’t quite hold up on this one. The instrumental is quite impressive in how dirty, atmospheric and futuristic it is. To that point, I think the disappointing truth — for me, perhaps — is that there is no singular moment where Cocteau Twins suddenly started using these Wall of Sound techniques. Their sound certainly evolved over time, but their music has always been quite spacey. This song is yet another testament.

9. Oomingmak – instrumental (1987?)

Feels like something’s missing.

8. Touch Upon Touch (1996)

Okay, THIS is the actual final Cocteau Twins song, and it is quite fascinating. Like Alice, it really trends in a new direction. You can tell that times were changing, and — whether or not it was what led to their breakup — the band did seemingly struggle to catch up.

By all means, I still like this song, though. Firstly, it’s really smooth and low-key, and I think it sounds cinematic, like Alice, but more subtly. Fraser’s sensual singing is really nice as well. I don’t have any major complaints about this one, but it does sound quite different, and doesn’t really go above and beyond. A solid song, but perhaps not one worth constructing an album around. As it turns out, Cocteau Twins wouldn’t.

7. Dear Heart (1983)

A Garlands bonus track with an abnormally pretty and composed vocal performance from Elizabeth Fraser for this era. She certainly has her low-key moments on Garlands as well, but those songs are not as rangy and melodic as this one. The instrumental is, well, something you’ve heard before, so to speak, but as alluded to I actually think a lot of the post-punk instrumentals post-Garlands are really, really strong. The drum machines were already an important component of Garlands, so that aspect of this song is nothing new, but it does feel more structured and the guitar sounds more melodic, whilst no grit is sacrificed. The backing vocals from Gordon Sharp are not entirely necessary, but I guess they don’t take away from the track either. She’s actually credited with doing the backing vocals on Hazel and Hearsay Please, although I genuinely struggle to identify her voice on those tracks. On this track I think she’s easier to spot, but yeah, it could survive without her.

6. Speak No Evil (1982)

This song takes about 50 seconds to really start, and man is it worth it — Robin Guthrie really stepped up the instrumentals post-Garlands. That is no slight to Garlands, which is a strong, innovative album in its own right, but in any case this is just better. Above all, this is an incredibly grimy song. The guitar, especially, is almost distorted beyond recognition, and provides this eerie atmosphere that I don’t think you ever really get on Garlands, in spite of its dark sound. This track also feels surprisingly tightly composed considering how slow-paced it is. Somewhat similarly, Elizabeth Fraser sounds surprisingly purposeful for how angsty her vocal performance is on here — which only enhances the haunting vibe of this song anyway.

5. Dials (1990)

A mixture of Victorialand and Heaven or Las Vegas. There’s not too much going on here, but the combination of that faint, spacey atmosphere, akin to Victorialand, and that futuristic, slightly abrasive edge of Heaven or Las Vegas is wonderful. Such a pretty song.

4. Hearsay Please (1983)

Arguably Cocteau Twins’ best song pre-Head Over Heels, and largely because it starts to head in that stylistic direction — which is odd because the same cannot quite be said about the EP’s that were release between Garlands and Head Over Heels. In any case, this is another bonus track from Garlands that sees the group go in a more melodic and structured direction, while remaining loyal to their post-punk sound. I actually don’t know if I like the instrumental or the vocals more on this one. The guitar riff is incredibly groovy despite how dirty and dismembered it sounds — it’s lightyears ahead of any of the original Garlands tracks, frankly — and the hectic, futuristic drums are also amazing. At the same time, the groovy instrumental also brings the best out of Elizabeth Fraser, who had never sounded as collected and purposeful before. There are still moments where her voice breaks somewhat, but not at all in the angsty, impulsive way that it did on the original Garlands tracks.

3. Millimillenary (1986)

Man, I nearly forgot to write about this song. It’s the one song on The Pink Opaque that can’t be found in any of Cocteau Twins’ albums or EP’s, although it easily could have made it onto EP’s like Love’s Easy Tears or Tiny Dynamine. Or, well, I guess not, but in terms of both quality and characteristics I think it’s comparable.

While the dark, twangy bass loop on this song is more reminiscent of the Cocteaus’ earlier music than the rich dream pop of the aforementioned EP’s, the heavy reverb on both the vocals and instrumental produces something that nonetheless sounds even more spacey as well as more refined than an album like Treasure. The thick, tight drum loop also gives it a more rich, slightly futuristic effect, although the song retains a distinct degree of darkness. But all of this jargon can really be set aside, because the magic of this song — as is the case with most of the Cocteaus’ non-album music from this era — ultimately comes down to an awesome instrumental and several intense, passionate vocal layers from Elizabeth Fraser that ring into each other. The vocals from Fraser on this are actually a bit less complex, as she mostly sounds like she’s singing in English, but that only really serves as a reminder that her ability to construe these wild noises was not the only move in her bag — not that such a reminder was needed.

2. The High Monkey-Monk (1990)

This is why all of Cocteau Twins’ songs are worth checking out. This song hasn’t cracked 400 000 streams on Spotify, and it is absolutely incredible. This is like a Heaven or Las Vegas song with an Eastern edge. It has this amazing hollow-sounding percussion that adds a raw and organic element to a song that otherwise sounds so surreal. The roaring distorted guitars on this one are just about as stunning as on anything heard on Heaven or Las Vegas, and beyond that this song is one of the ultimate testaments to the endless creativity behind Elizabeth Fraser’s melodies. This is one of her most elastic and complex performances ever, I just don’t understand how a person can sound like this.

Easily the most underrated Cocteau Twins song.

1. Crushed (1987)

Speaking of those mid-80s EP’s leaving you wanting more… This 1987 song, Crushed, is just from a collaborative compilation album, and is one of the best things Cocteau Twins have ever made. In fact, I think it continues to build on that almost excessively spacey dream pop sound of Love’s Easy Tears — that is, the EP, and not the song. Fraser’s vocals on this really, really, really echo, it might be her quintessential Wall of Sound performance. Crucially, this song also has that tonal shift between the verses and the chorus, and gets wilder and more abrasive as it goes on. Best to keep it brief here, I think — this song can speak for itself.

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAESSSYESYESYES!!!!

Album intros

9. When Mama Was Moth (Head Over Heels)

This is a great song, but not the most emphatic introduction to an album that really has a lot more to offer than this. Its atmosphere is fantastic, and the evolution from Garlands is clear immediately, but ultimately it’s quite slow-paced and never really climaxes. It’s more like a trailer to the album than the opening scene.

8. Violaine (Milk & Kisses)

I actually love this song but I just don’t know how representative it is of Milk & Kisses as an album. This song and Serpentskirt actually sound like Cocteau Twins going in a more atmospheric, enigmatic direction, but the remaining tracks are a lot more stripped back, pop-oriented, and have personal attributes that are more akin to Four-Calendar Café.

7. Blue Bell Knoll (Blue Bell Knoll)

I’m a big fan of this song as well, but it has similar limitations to When Mama Was Moth. It’s just quite slow-paced and low-key, even if it becomes more abrasive towards the end. To that point, I do think it’s relatively representative of Blue Bell Knoll as an album, with its incredibly cloudy sound, Elizabeth Fraser’s elusiveness, and that abrasive ending. It’s just not a firecracker of an intro, that’s all.

6. Blood Bitch (Garlands)

In a vacuum this might be my second-least favorite song so far, but that’s not saying much because I think it’s fantastic, and I also think it’s a perfect introduction to Garlands. One of the album’s main flaws is its lack of range, but hearing those furiously bubbling guitars is electrifying every time. It’s just a shame they couldn’t fully build on this on the rest of the album — as alluded to, the characteristics of this track are really found all over the album, and don’t really change. That goes for the drum machine and Fraser’s angsty vocals as well.

5. Ivo (Treasure)

Well, with how it fades in at the start, this song is certainly intro-like — perhaps even too much so? No, not really. I think Ivo is both an excellent introduction to Treasure as an album and an excellent song in a vacuum. That acoustic guitar and those soprano vocals to start off give a taste of the album’s gothic, mystical sound, while we get a taste of the album’s range soon after — the explosive, futuristic drums and Fraser’s more raw, passionate singing.

4. Lazy Calm (Victorialand)

As good as all the aforementioned tracks are, I think we take quite the leap here. Lazy Calm is by far the best song that has been mentioned so far, and it also completely encapsulates the brilliance of Victorialand. It takes nearly three minutes before you hear Elizabeth Fraser’s voice, and it isn’t boring at all, because there’s such a vivid, compelling atmosphere — as well as anticipation for what is to come. To that point, Fraser’s vocals on this song are so soft and angelic as well. There isn’t much more to the album than Guthrie’s ambience and Fraser’s falsetto singing, but that is also why it is so good. The same goes for Lazy Calm.

3. Cherry-coloured Funk (Heaven or Las Vegas)

Maybe this is offensively low to some people, but I just think there are two intros that are better. Cherry-coloured Funk is a masterpiece, in fact my only complaint might be that I’ve heard it too many times — Heaven or Las Vegas is my most played album of all time.

2. Sea, Swallow Me (The Moon and the Melodies)

The good news: Wow, very good song.
The bad news: It’s all downhill from here.

The Moon and the Melodies is a great album, but while Eyes Are Mosaics and She Will Destroy You are respectable attempts at replicating the intense melancholy and beauty of Sea, Swallow Me, the album never really succeeds at doing so.

1. Know Who You Are At Every Age (Four-Calendar Café)

The drum intro of this song is like a portal to a dream. Once you hear that bass you cannot escape — you have to finish listening to the entire album.

One of Cocteau Twins’ best songs, and a perfect way to open up this album. The lyrical themes and the minimalist melancholic sound — it’s all there.

Album outros

10. Grail Overfloweth (Garlands)

One of Cocteau Twins’ weakest songs, and naturally their weakest outro.

I like how the song starts out with these really spacey, eerie vocals from Fraser, and the guitar slowly but surely fades in, but this song is over five minutes long, never really goes anywhere, and really doesn’t add anything new to the album.

9. Donimo (Treasure)

Great, great outro. It can be argued that this was where Cocteau Twins first implemented their eventual outro formula, with a slow, faint buildup to an explosive climax, although I think the lack of explosiveness differentiates it from those later outro tracks, which is also why I rank this song a little lower. To that point it is also worth mentioning that the lack of explosiveness doesn’t fit perfectly with the song length, as this track is over six minutes long. Still, I do love the dynamic between the more intense sections of this song and the more ambient ones. It also encapsulates the multidimensional sound of Treasure — it’s dark yet blissful, pretty, abrasive, futuristic, and gothic.

8. Ooze Out And Away, Onehow (The Moon and the Melodies)

I think this is the true first iteration of Cocteau Twins’ trademark outro, and it has one main issue, but is generally a really strong start.

Indeed, the group already had most of what made their outros great figured out with this track. There’s a long faint intro, which is particularly dreamy in this instance, with these light, soaring guitars, over which Elizabeth Fraser is almost whispering, until the percussion suddenly kicks in, Fraser becomes much more passionate, and everything opens up. It takes over two and a half minutes, and yet I think it’s worth it. The one instance in which this kind of structure didn’t work was on The Spangle Maker, and that was less so because of the structure and more so because the buildup is kind of whiny and repetitious. Whenever there’s a more ambient buildup sequence, it is eventually paid off every time — no matter how long and devoid of action it is.

The one issue with this track is that it just ends after its climax, meaning the long buildup makes up the bulk of this song. It’s safe to say Cocteau Twins would eventually learn a lesson from this.

7. Treasure Hiding (Milk & Kisses)

Okay, this is technically not an outro, but it feels wrong not to include it on this list given how clearly it follows Cocteau Twins’ outro formula, while also being the penultimate track on Milk & Kisses.

Now, this song’s climax is rather soft, sonically speaking, but that is also what makes it so good. The difference between the buildup and the eventual explosion is rather subtle, yet it makes a world’s difference. The buildup already has such a dreamy, glittery atmosphere, that is eventually intensified and enhanced, rather than being contrasted by something more abrasive. It’s a magical experience.

The only flaw of this outro is, well, the fact that it is not an outro.

6. The Thinner The Air (Victorialand)

Victorialand probably couldn’t have been concluded much better than this. Those spacey keys, that gloomy, acoustic guitar and those soprano vocals from Elizabeth Fraser make for such a vividly eerie track despite its lack of components. I guess this is another track that you just wish was a little longer, although the track’s length works for what the song is.

5. Ella Megalast Burls Forever (Blue Bell Knoll)

Not the most atmospheric song on Blue Bell Knoll, but it has one of Elizabeth Fraser’s most blissful and elusive vocal performances, and that’s really enough. The contrast between her very loose and joyful falsetto singing during the verses, and her more raw and passionate singing the choruses, is also excellent. Furthermore, there is lots to love about this song instrumentally as well. Like on the other songs on Blue Bell Knoll, the instrumental really evoles as it goes on. I love the bright, dreamy keys around the midpoint, which works as another bright contrast to the chorus, and that wonky, spacey bass from Simon Raymonde towards the end is also such a nice component, which also brings the best out of Elizabeth Fraser, who suddenly starts to go off-script.

This may not be Cocteau Twins’ most sensational song, but an excellent way to wrap up their most blissful album.

4. Seekers Who Are Lovers (Milk & Kisses)

Now for the actual outro of Milk & Kisses. I once more struggle not to see this as Cocteau Twins’ final song. It’s so intense and dramatic — Raymonde’s bass really signals that this is the end. At the same time, this is yet another track on which the group masterfully uses contrasts. The verses instead sound incredibly spacey and magical, yet seamlessly transition in and out of the much darker choruses. In that sense, it really isn’t that far off of Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires. That makes for quite the conclusion to your final album.

3. Musette And Dreams (Head Over Heels)

Such a cool song. That fiery guitar riff is endlessly addictive, and Elizabeth Fraser has these dark, low-key, yet occasionally passionate vocals that you only really hear on this album. Certainly, the way the reverb makes her voice ring into the mix only enhances the experience as well.

My only slight critique is that I don’t think its conclusion, with a quasi guitar solo from Robin Guthrie, is quite as strong as the prior sections of the song, but it’s certainly a fitting way to conclude the album.

2. Pur (Four-Calendar Café)

I don’t think this song is as masterfully composed and instrumentally complex as Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires, but in terms of mere emotional impact this might be Cocteau Twins’ best song altogether. It is not only Elizabeth Fraser who is responsible for that emotional impact, in fact her cathartic chorus might be eclipsed by the subsequent electric gutiar riff from Guthrie. Again, this might be my favorite Cocteau Twins moment altogether.

1. Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires (Heaven or Las Vegas)

As alluded to, the brilliance of this song is in its composition. Yes, it technically follows the same formula as all those other Cocteau Twins outros, but what differentiates it is that its more faint, ambient section reappears following the first climax. Beyond that, it just has far more musical elements than all of Cocteau Twins’ other outros. As alluded to, there are seemingly endless details that make this such a great song, it might be the most impressive thing they ever made.

Elizabeth Fraser’s top 10 gibberish performances

10. How To Bring A Blush To Snow

Victorialand really doesn’t get enough credit for just how incomprehensible Elizabeth Fraser is on it. Blue Bell Knoll is known as the album where she just drops using any language altogether, and instead opts for these idiosyncratic noises, but on this song she does the exact same thing. There are ultimately a lot of Blue Bell Knoll songs that couldn’t make the cut on here — well, one of the reasons why I did end up ranking this one so high is because of the amount of vocal layers on this. Not that Blue Bell Knoll has any shortage of those, but I just feel the different vocals on this one have a wider range and superior interplay. It also helps that the vocal mix is rawer, which really emphasizes how nonsensical the sounds Fraser is making are.

9. Pandora (for Cindy)

I don’t even know why I decided to elaborate on these rankings, because it’s hard to find many things to say about abstract noises that you do not understand. In any case, what I love about Pandora (for Cindy), at least in relation to this list, is how relatively articulate Fraser sounds for much of it, while saying some absolute bullshit. The story is that much of her gibberish outside of Blue Bell Knoll was just a concotion of randomly selected words from various languages, and I’m sure that is the case — there are bits of this one that sound vaguely Italian, for starters — but for the most part Pandora (for Cindy) just sounds like its sung in a completely made-up language. She’s not really just making noises, but it also doesn’t sound like she’s singing in any language that actually exists.

8. Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires

You could argue that this should rank lower given how almost the entirety of it sounds like it could be sung in English, but I can barely make out a single word on this song, and the chorus really might be the defining sequence of gibberish from Elizabeth Fraser. So many words (?), so much passion — so beautiful. I would imitate it by text, but I don’t want to embarrass myself.

7. The High Monkey-Monk

One of the most underrated Cocteau Twins songs, and a rare instance of Fraser’s gibberish taking the form of random noises on more of Heaven or Las Vegas-style song. This one reminds me of Pitch the Baby in how playful and spacey it is, and to that point it’s admirable how clear the vocal mix is by contrast.

6. Athol-brose

In terms of the actual gibberish itself, I don’t know exactly what makes me rank Athol-brose above all the Blue Bell Knoll tracks that didn’t make it on this list, but I do know that I just like this vocal performance more. Once again: the range and layers! The underlying counter-melodies are incredibly pretty, and the lead vocals are just so wild and passionate. For the record, Fraser is also just making random noises here, just like on the rest of Blue Bell Knoll.

5. Oomingmak

This is how my dog used to talk, I was the only one who could hear her.

4. Quisquose

This song just makes me fucking laugh man — in the most complimentary way possible. I don’t think anyone can replicate this.

3. Love’s Easy Tears

One of the best things about Fraser’s gibberish singing is the conviction behind it. After all, she has always emphasized that it’s all about emotions. It’s not a groundbreaking observation that Elizabeth Fraser’s songwriting (if you can even call it that) is good because her vocals simply sound good, and simultaneously evoke certain emotions despite being devoid of lyrical meaning. What people may overlook is that her vocals with the Cocteaus were not just random sounds that happened to sound nice, but often translations of her emotions; to her it meant something. This is why she was/is consistently able to repeat her vocal performances, as cryptic as they sound to everyone else. It also explains how passionate Love’s Easy Tears sounds, despite being entirely devoid of any lyrics.

Just a fucking batshit crazy performance.

2. Pitch the Baby

This ranking is based not only on how unintelligible and unique Fraser’s vocals are, but also how well her vocal performances work. With that in mind, I cannot believe this song does not rank number one. While Love’s Easy Tears stands out for the raw passion behind Fraser’s singing, the noises she makes on this song are far more mesmerizing. Obviously, it is the result of certain effects and editing, but that doesn’t change how surreal the end result is. Every time I listen to this I’m struck by how awesome it is that Cocteau Twins were able to pull this off. Again, this is the coolest-sounding song ever made.

1. Carolyn’s Fingers

Feel like I’ve said enough about this one already. Maybe the crowning achievement of Elizabeth Fraser’s musical career.

Top 10 live renditions — excluding BBC sessions

A huge thank you to YouTube user Sardine for providing the overwhelming majority of the audio (and in some cases footage) for these!

10. Whales Tails (Detroit, 1990)

From what I’ve gathered, there are some songs that Cocteau Twins, and Elizabeth Fraser in particular, can’t quite pull off live. In any case, as I have listened to more and more of their old live performances, I have come to the rather reassuring conclusion that Elizabeth Fraser struggled somewhat to perform certain songs not because she was a limited vocalist who relied on effects that warped how she sounded, but rather because those songs were incredibly difficult to perform in a live setting — perhaps not least because of her stage fright, which she has been open about.

Whales Tails is really supposed to be such a song. It has one of Fraser’s most haunting, powerful and cryptic vocal performances, and yet she absolutely nails it in this live rendition. It is slightly different, especially around what I guess you could call the chorus, but is effectively the same overall. Particularly impressive are the purity of her vocals and her ability to know exactly what she’s singing, when us mortal listeners have not the slightest idea. Also a fan of how spacey the instrumental sounds.

9. For Phoebe Still A Baby (Ministry of Sound; London, 1996)

It’s incredibly how they managed to make this song sound even softer and dreamier. Fraser especially, of course.

8. Tishbite (Hotel Babylon; London (?), 1996)

This live performance partially made me realize how good this song is. Easily one of their most underrated. It also made me realize that the people who think Milk & Kisses sounds too bland and pristine may have a point, because as much as I love the original recording of this song, the electric guitar riff on this live version is so much more raw and fiery. The vocal performance from Fraser is also phenomenal from front to back, and her wild improvisation to conclude the song really takes the whole performance to a different level.

7. Theft, and Wandering Around Lost (Subterranea; ???, 1996)

The unrivaled saddest Cocteau Twins song, with a spacier-sounding instrumental and an even more fragile vocal performance from Elizabeth Fraser. Also one of their best songs, for that matter.

6. Love’s Easy Tears (Portsmouth, 1986)

This is somewhat of a risky song to perform live, considering how abrasive the instrumental is and how wild Elizabeth Fraser’s performance is, but this live rendition of it is everything you would could hope for. The grit of the instrumental and the wildness of the vocal performance are both enhanced, without the whole thing ever sounding too rough around the edges. Then, it has to be said that this is one of their very best songs as well.

5. Wolf in the Breast (Detroit, 1990)

As alluded to, this live rendition of Wolf in the Breast is just downright better than the original. The instrumental sounds deeper and livelier — with the implementation of an incredibly smooth electric guitar — and while Fraser isn’t quite as passionate and this recording lacks those layers of vocal harmonies, she makes up for it with her playfulness.

4. Iceblink Luck (Berkeley, 1990)

I think we have to come to terms with the fact that Elizabeth Fraser invented cursive singing. Thankfully, it’s actually good when she does it. Iceblink Luck!

3. Cico Buff (Detroit, 1990)

If there’s any doubt about Elizabeth Fraser’s independent ability as a vocalist; any idea that she was dependant on oceans of vocal effects to sound as good as she did, just listen to how she adjusts the rendition of perhaps her best song when she performs it live. Somehow, it sounds just as good.

2. Crushed (Detroit, 1990)

Just how explosively this live rendition of Crushed starts alone makes me rank it this high. Additionally, whereas the original is incredibly spacey, this version adds something new to the song in how clear, punchy and groovy it is by contrast. Also, wonderfully passionate performance from Elizabeth Fraser.

1. Rilkean Heart (Philadelphia, 1996)

Similarly to how the original recording of Tishbite has some weaknesses compared to the live rendition of it, the original recording of Rilkean Heart, another Milk & Kisses song, is not even the second best iteration of that song. The acoustic version of from the Twinlights EP is better, and, well, this is a live rendition of that version of the song, which is even more smoother, warmer and fuzzier. I don’t think it gets any better than this.

Music videos

12. Pearly Dewdrops’-Drops (1984)

The group members themselves felt the stereotype of them as goths was perpetuated by this music video. Simon Raymonde put it like this: “We look like a bunch of cunts.” Maybe I’m not allowed to say it, but yeah.

Even considering that it’s from 1984, this music video looks pretty bad, and more importantly it’s just quite strange. And stupid. Why is Elizabeth Fraser walking around singing in a church, while Simon Raymonde and Robin Guthrie just sit/stand there? What’s the deal with all the different shots out in the nature? That bonfire? Those hideous inverted effects?

The guy who directed this actually got paid for doing this, you know. Like, that was his job. They let people get away with anything back in the day, man.

Side note: I, too, have referred to some of Cocteau Twins’ music as gothic, but I think some of it undeniably is. It’s not just that, and it doesn’t necessarily reflect the group members as persons — what the hell do I know? — but it’s clearly an influence on Treasure, for instance. In any case, if you are going to play into that categorization of Cocteau Twins when directing a music video, why would this be the song? This could have been a case of this gothic imagery misrepresenting the group members and perpetuating a false image of them, but nonetheless fitting the actual music well, but no, the video is just made weider by the fact that it doesn’t fit the vibe of the song at all.

11. Aikea-Guinea (1985)

This was actually my directorial debut back in 1985, let me know what you guys think.

Like this kills me man, at least it’s more charming than Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drops, but what is actually going on here? The fucking still images — WHAT? Those spiral-looking fossils? Oh, nice, at least Elizabeth Fraser is having fun! Ohh, she’s laughing because there’s a cat who’s invading the music video. And then when she’s done laughing she suddenly starts singing again — wait, no, not again, because there are no shots of her singing prior to this. She starts lip syncing to the song for the first time nearly two minutes into the song, immediately after laughing at a cat.

More still images.

Panning still image of Guthrie and Fraser that zooms into a fruit bowl. Sure.

Fraser and Guthrie laughing at the cat, again.

Still image of Fraser doing prayer hands, with an entirely white background.

Shot of like a library or office or studio (???) that pans onto a door and then briefly dissolves into Guthrie and Raymonde hanging out, before fading in again and continuing to pan around the same room, which suddenly starts looking like an entirely different room — some sort of dining room, at that — even though the shot is completely continual. For the life of me I cannot figure out how they did this. What is happening. Oh, and the shot goes from black-and-white to colored as it pans around the room (or rooms??).

Shot of everyone chilling in the studio/library/office/dining room/living room.

Dissolve

Still image of everyone lying down in the same room.

10. Rilkean Heart & Half-Gifts (1995)

These are two music videos packed into one, presented as this ambitious cinematic project, and I’m just not crazy about it.

First of all, a huge pet peeve of mine: when any sort of filmmaker shows the lyrics of the song that’s playing, as though we can’t just listen to it and make out what’s being said ourselves. That’s a somewhat ironic objection to have when it comes to Cocteau Twins — even in their later music, I struggle to make out what Elizabeth Fraser is saying — but showing the lyrics does not make it better, especially given how most of it is egregiously out of sync. I would have to assume that is an artistic choice — it’s not like the lyrics are presented clearly so that you will have an easy time reading them anyway — but that only makes it more pointless.

Also, frankly, I understand the therapeutic nature of Fraser’s songwriting post-Heaven or Las Vegas, but I’m just not crazy about the lyrics on either of these songs. They’re quite basic in terms of language, and delve into situations you have no insight into.

I still think some of the visuals here are nice, and suit the acoustic versions of these songs, but the lyrics honestly really bother me, and this just doesn’t need to be nearly nine minutes long.

9. Heaven or Las Vegas (1990)

Did they think about putting more stuff in each frame, maybe?

I mean this is The Classic, and it’s a fun video, but the director here expects you to look at like 20 different things at the same time, which is not to mention that half of those things are changing every other second.

Besides, these visuals don’t even symbolize the song effectively, it’s just like someone fucking around with the right analog stick on FIFA. I’m not a huge fan of the colors on here either.

But, I repeat: This is The Classic. I cannot bring myself to dislike it.

8. Tishbite (1996)

Far, far better than the Rilkean Heart & Half-Gifts video. The use of lyrics here is more sporadic and artistic, and I do like the effects on here as well. Like sure, the constant lights effects and dissolves are a little over the top, but there is also something very Cocteau Twins about it.

7. Carolyn’s Fingers (1988)

If we’re being real, these music videos aren’t that great, are they? Especially those from the 80s. At the same time, I can’t help but love this one for what it is. As referenced earlier, it kind of looks like Elizabeth Fraser is singing in the sky throughout parts of this video, which fits its heavily sound perfectly without being too on-the-nose. Beyond that, there are a lot of pretty dated visuals and effects in this video that I honestly just find endearing for the most part. I also love the final closeup shot where Fraser concludes her final note, and her face seemingly going “yeah, that was alright” as, like, the greatest song of all time concludes.

6. Cico Buff (1988)

It shouldn’t be possible to outdo Carolyn’s Fingers, but Cico Buff does. That goes for the music, at least. As for their respective music videos, neither is particularly close to perfection, but I think Cico Buff wins here as well.

You could make the case that there’s some heavenly imagery in this music video too. Elizabeth Fraser may be almost entirely covered in shadow, but not only does the white-black contrast work quite well, the outlines of her head also glow as though she has this angelic aura.

This is really quite a straightforward music video, but I just find that sideways shot of Fraser that’s shown throughout so compelling — even more so with the low frame rate. There’s something about it that really captures how spacey and ethereal this song is.

I also love how the guitar shots sporadically fade in and out, and I think they do a fairly good job of capturing how incredible that riff from Guthrie slightly past the halfway point of the song is.

5. Evangeline (1993)

This one is a little odd and visually rough, but I love it. I’m not sure about the suits and the disco balls, but for whatever reason those black-and-white, glittery visuals just work so well with the music here. As do the kaleidoscopic effects, which also allow for some much-appreciated allusions to the Four-Calendar Café album cover. Those work particularly well on this track, as I once more feel like the atmospheric noises in the background of this song are incredibly reminiscent of the items on the album cover.

As much as there is going on visually in this video, the focus consistently remains on Liz, and visually I think this music video does an amazing job of conveying the personal and sorrowful feel of the song, while Fraser simultaneously looks somewhat enigmatic — also quite thematically consistent with the song.

I also love Robin Guthrie doing a Frank Lampard in the background as the song starts.

4. Crushed (1987)

I’m realizing more and more that my framework for cinematography is even worse than my musical framework, so maybe it’s dumb that I’m doing this ranking in the first place.

I like a lot of things about the visuals of this music video — I don’t quite know how to describe it all. The best I can give you is that its use of colors, lighting, dissolves and blurs is really cool. It’s very visually cloudy and obscured, which fits this song particularly well.

I love the closeup shots of Fraser as well, especially with her vocals on this song being so passionate. And then, the shot of her big laugh to end the video? Again, it’s low-hanging fruit, but come on man, it’s perfect.

3. Bluebeard (1993)

This is the same director as the one who did Crushed, and you can’t tell at all.

I mean, there’s endearingly dated visuals and then there’s this. Nothing comes close. Just look at Elizabeth Fraser, Robin Guthrie and Simon Raymonde flying-, rotating- and dancing around with these bizarre visuals in the background. We have all kinds of paintings, we have outer space, we have Rainbow Road. We have that fucking clam opening up, with Fraser inside, wearing this kind of purple robe — okay man!

I mean it’s endless, I couldn’t possibly name all the details — how do I even describe them? This music video is so, so fucking weird, and I don’t know how I rationalize this, but I genuinely love it.

2. Iceblink Luck

This is a real music video, man. This is Heaven or Las Vegas. This is Iceblink Luck.

Colorful, obscured and ethereal.

I just wish it were more red and blue.

1. Love’s Easy Tears (1986)

It’s hard not to be a little biased towards the songs themselves here, but consider that I’m ranking this ahead of each of my three favorite Cocteau Twins songs.

Of the Cocteau Twins music videos that are relatively accessible, this is easily their most straightforward one — it’s just a live rendition of the song, with the studio recording of it as the audio. But I will repeat the cliché: the beauty is in the simplicity.

I just think this is such a brilliant visual take on one of Cocteau Twins’ very best songs. The visuals don’t necessarily reflect the loudness and abrasiveness of the music, but I actually think that’s what I love about it. Firstly, I love the use of shadows and colors, but beyond that there’s something slightly surreal about the contrast between how loud, abrasive and intense the music is, and how relatively peaceful the group looks while performing it. They’re all just kind of standing there, and Fraser looks surprisingly peaceful while delivering what is probably her wildest vocal performance ever. The smokey, cloudy atmosphere, the dissolves, and the slow panning around the room further enhance this video’s oddly spiritual vibe. It’s masterful.

Album covers

9. Head Over Heels (1983)

Firstly, I don’t even know what this album cover is supposed to depict, but that’s not even a problem in and of itself. The main problem is just that it’s quite uninteresting. If anything, it looks like a picture of wet dirt — “geggamoja”, as we say in Sweden — and I don’t think that reflects the sound of this album.

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8. The Moon and the Melodies (1986)

I can actually understand why some might really like this cover. I like the imagery of the deadwood in the darkness, but while this album is known as Cocteau Twins’ darkest, I feel that’s technically true but not accurately portrayed by this album cover. Ultimately I think it depicts the album as being far more depressing than it is. Beyond that, I just think the blur effect on the deadwood looks quite cheap, and I don’t love how that image is kind of framed just to include the names of the people who made the album.

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7. Milk & Kisses (1996)

I don’t know whether I dislike this one or think it’s just okay. The lack of detail is certainly interesting. I’ve also thought — and I don’t know if this is obvious or not — that it looks like a lightly clothed woman, which doesn’t really fit the album, but I do think it’s a pretty cool depiction and I like the minimalism here.

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6. Treasure (1984)

This album cover certainly represents the album quite well — I can understand why others would love it. Personally, I just don’t love that kind of imagery, the same way I love this album in spite of its gothic sound more so than because of it.

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5. Blue Bell Knoll (1988)

I have mixed thoughts on this album cover. I don’t think the gritty imagery of the fingers with overgrown nails fits the sound of the album whatsoever. On the other hand, I do find that image quite visually appealing, I actually like the white slate with the name of the group and the album, and I think the lightness of the cover does fit the sound of the album, as previously referenced.

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4. Victorialand (1986)

This cover is similar to that of The Moon and the Melodies, but just works so much better in my opinion. Above all, I love that vague, fiery image at the center. I suppose I would have preferred it if that image had made up the entire album cover, but I also like how its dark red and orange colors contrast the grainy, off-white colored frame.

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3. Garlands (1982)

I don’t know man, this is their first album cover and there may be some rough details of it that I’m overlooking, but isn’t it sick? The despair that is conveyed in the person on the cover, and the utterly depressing setting in the background is just brilliant, man. I wrote “This album is about the horrors of living in rural Scotland in the early 1980s,” as a joke, but it is true that part of the inspiration behind some of the Cocteaus’ later music was Fraser and Guthrie wanting to create something more exciting than the environment they grew up in. I’m paraphrasing here, as real journalists do, but you get the point. I think this cover encapsulates the album more than any of the ones I’ve discussed so far.

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2. Heaven or Las Vegas (1990)

Maybe I’m completely off-base with my interpretation of the red and blue fluids here — it’s really only something I think of when I listen to the album, rather than when I’m looking at its cover, anyway. In any case, I think this cover does reflect the ethereal sound of the album — there is something very space-like about it, ostensibly depicting either the ring around Saturn or shooting stars. Beyond that, I insist that red and blue are the perfect colors for the album. I can’t quite elaborate on it — maybe I have been conditioned into feeling like this — but they just are.

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1. Four-Calendar Café (1993)

I think there’s something about the childlike imagery of this cover that embodies the very core of this album. Despite the album largely being inspired by bleak personal issues in Elizabeth Fraser’s private life, I think it has this profoundly comforting and even nostalgic vibe. Furthermore, the album filled an almost inherently therapeutic purpose for Fraser, and ostensibly even ends in her ultimately finding solace. Perhaps it’s a reach to compare that to the joyfulness and innocence of childhood, but I certainly think there is an element of comfort — perhaps a pursuit of it; ultimately a successful one in this case — that aligns with the childlike imagery of the album cover.

Beyond all of this, just look at it. I own this album on vinyl and the cover is so wonderful to look at. Beyond the Walter Wick artwork I think that blue background is so beautiful.

Top 50 songs

50. Road, River and Rail
49. Wolf in the Breast
48. The Itchy Glowbo Blow
47. Whales Tails
46. Eyes Are Mosaics
45. Fotzepolitic
44. In The Gold Dust Rush
43. Cicely
42. I Wear Your Ring
41. Pepper-Tree
40. She Will Destroy You
39. Oil Of Angels
38. Treasure Hiding
37. Watchlar
36. Sultitan Itan
35. Millimillenary
34. Plain Tiger
33. Quisquose
32. Orange Appled
31. Seekers Who Are Lovers
30. From the Flagstones
29. Musette And Drums
28. Lazy Calm
27. Oomingmak
26. Pandora (for Cindy)
25. How To Bring A Blush To The Snow
24. Three Swept
23. For Phoebe Still A Baby
22. Fifty-fifty Clown
21. The High Monkey-Monk
20. Cherry-coloured Funk
19. Squeeze-Wax
18. Heaven or Las Vegas
17. Sugar Hiccup
16. Sea, Swallow Me
15. Pur
14. Crushed
13. Know Who You Are At Every Age
12. Frou-frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires
11. Theft, And Wandering Around Lost
10. Evangeline
9. Serpentskirt
8. Athol-brose
7. In Our Angelhood
6. Love’s Easy Tears
5. Pitch the Baby
4. Bluebeard
3. Carolyn’s Fingers
2. Cico Buff
1. Iceblink Luck