Dissonance can be a startling experience. It can be hard for the listener to make out exactly why they continue listening to a certain song despite being unable to describe it. Newness frightens and creates confusing states, but newness does not necessarily mean something is inherently bad. Shoegaze is one of those subgenres of indie and alternative rock that evokes strangeness within the familiar. Rich with guitar texture and dreamy qualities, it aims to push inwards rather than outwards. “Only Tomorrow” by My Bloody Valentine is an embodied state of being. It heals, it understands. It is forever becoming, not being. 

Initially, My Bloody Valentine was my gateway into shoegaze. Deemed as the scene that celebrates itself, shoegaze is a genre with a funny title that does not explain anything about its sound. Whether due to its musicians staring at their shoes while playing onstage due to the overwhelming number of pedals or their distinct shyness, shoegazers are known for their dreamy distortion, layered vocals, long riffs, and waves of feedback. When I first heard the opening snare drums and warped swirls of “Only Shallow” off MBV’s Loveless (1991), I could not comprehend what I was listening to. I had never heard anything like it before. It weighed me down and completely floored me. Barry Shank writes, “Even if we hear something that fits no genre we know, we apply the conventions of what we do know until the lack of fit forces us to reconsider,” (245). My mind was doing exactly that––trying hard to categorize these sounds into something familiar. Right as Bilinda Butcher’s vocals, “sleep like a pillow,” came in, I understood it or at least tried to mold it into simpler terms. It is a distorted dream pop song. Like a hurricane on Valentine’s Day––sweet yet a whirlwind of unpredictable noise. I later discovered the more technical aspects of their music like how the distinct guitar sound is achieved through a tremolo arm. Kevin Shields’ glide guitar plays an important role in their innovative sound. 

In 2013, m b v was released seemingly out of nowhere, crashing their website. Something about it feels like the melancholier version of Loveless if that was possible. On rateyourmusic.com, the album’s descriptors are love, melancholic, mysterious, cryptic, sensual, nocturnal, romantic, dissonant, dense, warm, bittersweet, soft, surreal, repetitive, and melodic. Shields describes the record as being "more like Isn't Anything, where it seems to be of this world, but with one foot in another world” (The Quietus). The dualities of each concept, such as melodic and dissonant or soft and dense intrigue me. They invite you into this ethereal world, yet you are half awake. Despite the intricate layers, Stephen McRobbie of The Pastels agrees the record has familiarity, “Something like the new My Bloody Valentine record is just as complicated, but somehow I can understand the sounds or voices,” (Pelly). Somewhere within this circle of feelings is where this album exists. Where “Only Tomorrow” persists. 

At six minutes and twenty-one seconds, “Only Tomorrow” is the longest piece on the record. It describes the world of the album so well. It is frequently used in MBV social media advertisements. When it starts, you do not think we are going anywhere sonically. We linger in this cycle of droning guitar and distortion. The vocals drift in and out, so hushed they feel underwater, as the guitar comes in and out of tune. Everything feels constant and repetitive, even the screeching refrains become passive. The passivity lulls you into a trance like a stupor you accidentally fall into on a flight. Whenever we sonically move upwards, it feels as if the airplane is too. The whooshes are the jets finally taking off. The vocals are androgynous yet offer sweetness to the abrasive guitar and bass. The lyrics are so purposefully hidden, all the transcripts of it online differentiate in odd ways. The words are not as important as the created atmosphere, instead, they become buried secrets for the listener to interpret as they wish. “Only tomorrow the love comes easy / What should I do, it's the only you” are transcribed as “Only tomorrow the love comes easy / Watching that blue, it's beyond” on a different lyric website. All we are entirely sure of is the titular lyric of “only tomorrow.” The hypnotic nature of the song mimics the pattern of a melancholic person’s thinking. Whether they are putting off something for tomorrow or longing for the next day, the hesitancy is prevalent. This hesitancy can be attributed to an “infinite sadness,” otherwise known as melancholy (Gill 165). There is never any clear beginning, middle, or end. 

The song’s live performance is where it all ties together. In saltanah, a performer defends their failed performance due to a lack of “atmosphere” (Racy 145). In MBV’s case, their live shows embody the hazy atmosphere we can only half achieve at home. Earplugs are required due to their impressive walls of sound produced through stacked amps. The only struggle is their ability to capture the subdued nature of the vocals due to the eminent noise from the rest of the band. The visceral quality of the whispered vocals is lost in the mix of everything else but it is worth losing if all of the other textures are amplified. Their combined usage of moving psychedelic imagery as a background and dedicated flashes of colored stage lights, instead of half-hearted attempts, increases the ambiance of the piece. The lack of performative qualities from the musicians themselves counterbalances the stillness––the music itself makes the experience a moving trip. 

I have to disagree with Pitchfork’s statement that the track “is an awesome display of them being not-quite themselves” (Cohen). Looking at MBV’s extensive discography, even their earlier jangle-pop records like Ecstasy and Wine (1989) or their 1987 EP You Made Me Realise have hinted at what “Only Tomorrow” offers. There is a fascinating quote in Melancholic Modalities where a prominent Turkish musician says, “We do not shout or scream or cry in our music. We transform shouting, screaming, crying into beauty” (Gill 179). Shields and Butcher are not pleading for you to understand their emotions or their suffering. They let it come out in entanglements of noise and undertones. There is enough hope for the melancholy to remain under the sea of layers, instead of rising above the water. Its agency never comes close to the beauty––it only plays a part. “Only Tomorrow” is their statement of achieving this long-awaited vision. Elongation is the greatest difference. A world to slip completely into. 

Works Cited

Cohen, Ian. “My Bloody Valentine ‘Only Tomorrow.’” Pitchfork. 4 Feb. 2013, https://pitchfork.com/reviews/tracks/14876-only-tomorrow/.

Gill, Denise. “Chapter 5: Melancholic Modes, Healing, and Repartation.” Melancholic Modalities: Affect, Islam, and Turkish Classical Musicians, Oxford University Press, 2017, pp. 154-182. 

My Bloody Valentine. “only tomorrow.” m b v, Domino Recording Company, 2013. 

Pelly, Jenn. “The Pastels.” Pitchfork. 25 June 2013, https://pitchfork.com/features/interview/9127-stephen-pastel/. 

Racy, Ali Jihad. “Saltanah.” Making Music in the Arab World: The Culture and Artistry of Tarab, Cambridge University Press, 2004, pp. 120-146. 

 Shank, Barry. “Coda: Listening through the Aural Imaginary.” The Political Force of Musical Beauty, Duke University Press, 2014, pp. 244-261. 

 The Quietus. “Kevin Shields Discusses New MBV Album.” The Quietus. 8 May 2012, https://thequietus.com/articles/08742-kevin-shields-interview-my-bloody-valentine-new-album.

ASHLEY D. ESCOBAR is a writer and filmmaker from San Francisco. She studies human connection and solitude at Bennington College. SOMETIMES (Invisible Hand Press) is her debut poetry chapbook. Her work can be found in MAI: Feminism & Visual Culture, 11 Mag Berlin, and Ethel Zine, among others. People watching is her favorite hobby, along with taking trains without any destination in mind. Find her infrequently on Twitter @quinoa_cowboy & quinoacowboys.com