December 14 - 21 , 1 9 9 5

COCTEAU TWINS: MAKING POINTS

The Cocteau Twins have always had a knack for whipping up perfect post-album desserts, four- and five-song EPs that distill the heavenly essences of the trio's dream pop. A single, like last year's "Evangeline," is rarely enough to bring out the subtle and exotic flavors that Elizabeth Fraser, Robin Guthrie, and Simon Raymonde favor in their state-of-the-art home studio. And the album Four Calendar Café (Capitol) was, in retrospect, a bit like trying to make a meal out of a Grand Marnier dark-chocolate mousse by topping it with raspberry syrup and crème fraîche -- too rich and not filling enough. But if there's a line to be drawn between singles acts and bands who are best digested in album-length doses, then the Cocteau Twins come down right in the middle, as perhaps the pop world's only EP specialists, and certainly the only major group that's warranted a box set of EPs, which 4AD released in 1991.

Twinlights and Otherness (both on Capitol), back-to-back EPs that have arrived just in time to hold Cocteau Twins fans in a euphoric dream state until Capitol releases Milk and Kisses next year, uphold the trio's between-album tradition wonderfully. Twinlights strips away the electronic studio gloss to capture Fraser in an unguarded moment, her relatively un-effected soprano framed only by gentle piano, spare acoustic guitar, and, on one track, a string quartet. Otherness relegates her lovely voice to a supporting role, as Guthrie and Raymonde team up with Mark Clifford from the contemporary ambient group Seefeel for a brief sojourn into the ethereal realm of abstract soundscapes. It's as if the Cocteaus went back to their studio after Four Calendar Café and induced a reverse chemical reaction, breaking their patented dream-pop solution down into its earthy Celtic folk elements and its otherworldly ambiance, then separating them for use on two EPs.

Being a song-oriented guy, I prefer the four tracks on Twinlights, three of which are new and one of which, "Pink Orange Red," is a new version of a decade-old tune. The tone is muted, melancholy, and vividly enchanting. It's a pleasure to hear Fraser find her own way into the wordless oblivion of "Rilkean Heart" with so little accompaniment. "I looked for you to give new transcendent experiences," she begins, with only understated piano chords as her guide, the words blurring into indistinct syllables until she loses herself in a blissful ascending melody.

Fraser's vocals have always fallen into two distinct categories: when you can tell she's not singing real words and thus can't make out the meaning, and when you can tell she is singing real words and still can't make out the meaning. Twinlights offers a little of both, including an arresting and unforgettable refrain on "Pink Orange Red" where one of her more beautiful runs of utter nonsense climaxes with her repeating "ootamanafana" six times in rapid succession. But the Cocteaus have never pretended to be anything more than mood merchants. They rely on texture rather then text to make their artful point, an approach that comes through perfectly on Twinlights.

Otherness features new versions of two older tunes, including the semi-hit "Cherry Coloured Funk" from Heaven or Las Vegas, but they're hard to distinguish from the two new tracks. Guthrie, Raymonde, and Clifford have, it seems, attempted to boil away anything in the way of a solid hook or melody in favor of soft, shifting electronic rhythms, now-you-hear-it/now-you-don't dub bass, and the heavily processed echo of keyboards, guitar, and vocals. I like to think of it as Guthrie's way of reminding us all that the Cocteau Twins were doing ambient a decade before the rave craze. And EPs are a good way to make small points like that too.

-- Matt Ashare