Ghostly, synthetic and smeared, possibly, in charcoal eye-liner, Billy Corgan’s first solo record throws a bleakly affectionate glance towards the ‘80s and the decade’s parade of sombre new-wave groups.
There are clanging choruses that offer dour homage to Echo And The Bunnymen; squalls of processed feedback recall the funeral studio jinks of (Joy Division producer) Martin Hannett; Corgan’s vocals strain occasionally for the leaden grandiosity of a Robert Smith. Even the album’s portentous title evokes a Numan-esque absurdity.
Unhappily for the ex-Smashing Pumpkins ringmaster, approximately half the new bands in Britain have, in the last year, pitched tent in the same territory.
Unlike the day-tripping nostalgists of Bloc Party and The Departure, however, Corgan is (just about) old enough to remember the era first hand and Thefutureembrace transmits a seductive authenticity.
He’s been here before of course; The Smashing Pumpkins best album, 1998’s Adore, culminated in a lush post-punk homage.
What distinguishes Thefutureembrace is the narrowness of its gaze. This is not a project of over arching designs or sweeping visions. Its mission is pedantic and particular: to approximate the rain-lashed romanticism of northern England circa 1984.
Indulging his passion for artful miserablism, Corgan has crafted an exquisite new wave paean and, almost by happenstance, the most rewarding and exciting recording of his career.