Mew - Half the World Is Watching Me (2000)

1) Am I Wry? No; 2) Mica; 3) King Christian; 4) Saliva; 5) Her Voice Is Beyond Her Years; 6) 156; 7) Symmetry; 8) Comforting Sounds
2007 re-release bonus disc: 1) Half the World Is Watching Me; 2) Her Voice Is Beyond Her Years (Live 2001); 3) Mica (Live 2001); 4) Wheels Over Me (Live 2001); 5) Wherever (Live 2001); 6) 156 (Cubase Demo); 7) Quietly (Demo); 8) Comforting Sounds (Do I Look Puerto Rican?) (Demo)

The first Mew album that really showcases their signature sound. You'll know most of it via Frengers, though.

Key tracks: "Am I Wry? No", "Mica", "Her Voice Is Beyond Her Years"

“What’s the point of tracking down Half the World Is Watching Me”, someone who’s not a completionist might ask. “I mean, two thirds of it is on Frengers after all”, they might continue. It’s a reasonable point I suppose, if you’re not the sort of geek who just wants to own every album a band releases (*cough*).  Mew’s second album isn’t the most convenient to find even after it was re-released, and it shares the majority of its tracklist with the more common follow-up Frengers. Frengers was the band’s international debut album after a couple of Denmark-only releases and for it, the band chose to include a number of their old favourites that they didn’t want to leave dusting away on some obscure indie releases. Nearly all of the old tracks chosen hail from Half the World Is Watching Me and for a good reason. Where the debut A Triumph for Man was a quirky lo-fi affair, Mew’s sophomore release presented a far more confident band and the production to back it up, with the bold power pop cuts a far cry from the first album’s whimsy.

Brushing off the irrational reasons (complete the set! Get everything! Collect!), the logical way to look at this dilemma is to look at the two different sides of it: the songs which were eventually remade, and the ones that didn’t make the cut.

The five songs on Half the World Is Watching Me which eventually got a facelift are “Am I Wry? No”, “Her Voice Is Beyond Her Years”, “156”, “Symmetry” and “Comforting Sounds”. The changes between the versions are as different as the songs themselves. The duet ballad “Symmetry” is largely identical to the point that I actually struggle finding any discernible differences between the two versions, including in the guest vocals, but the song was always built on a few simple elements anyway: it’s still the same minimal and wintery last dance of the ball, no matter which version you play. “Am I Wry? No” and “Comforting Sounds” are largely the same as their later counterparts, just a little less produced. The honestly epic “Comforting Sounds” is still the size of a small galaxy even if the final climax isn’t covered in an orchestra and it’ll always be an experience no matter its guise. “Am I Wry? No” is one of Mew’s finest honest rock songs and arguably the song that best nutshells them, and the main difference between the original and the re-make is slight arrangement decisions. If anything, I actually slightly prefer the version here as it introduces the keyboards after the second guitar part in the intro, as opposed to the other way around it’s performed in the remake: there’s a greater sense of drama to it and if anything, Mew love their dramatic entrances.

“Her Voice Is Beyond Her Years” and “156” on the other hand carry the major differences. The blissful indie pop mini-masterpiece “Her Voice Is Beyond Her Years” has an airier sound and a looser feel than its tightly-wound high-energy twin on Frengers and it suits the song and its delicate emotional touch better. The piano flourishes are also more similarly more elegant and contributes wonderfully to its shy poet boy romance vibe. There’s admittedly also a tacked-on extended outro that’s somewhat less essential. “156” goes even further and is almost a whole different song. It’s still recognisable and it features the same structure and melody as the re-recording, but the vibe and sound are wholly different. The “156” everyone knows from Frengers (because, let’s face it, unless you’re Danish you won’t have heard of this band before that album nor would you have obtained this before it) is ethereal and dreamy, full of beautiful melancholy and longing that ebbs between its placid verses and soaring choruses. The one here starts with a whimsical fairytale frolic of an intro, before it abruptly transforms into a more guitar-driven and laidback take on the song. It’s the closest tie Half the World Is Watching Me has to A Triumph for Man and carries that same whimsy, but it kind of fails to rise from the ground. It’s still a good song but clearly one still under construction. It needed the remake.

Mid-way tally: that’s two drastically different versions, albeit one which is more to please those who have a fetish for alternative versions, and a couple of minor differences that won’t make or break anything even if you can hear them. Not quite the selling point. But there’s still the other three songs.

One might wonder why “Mica”, “King Christian” and “Saliva” were left behind by the band. The initial assumption is because of quality: if Mew wanted to display their strongest back catalogue hits on their international entrance, surely it must mean everything that got left behind just wasn’t good enough? That assumption would be wrong. Rather, these three just wouldn’t have worked within Frengers. If you’ve heard that album (which I seem to assume you have, reading back on this review), you’d know that it’s not afraid to be aggressive, punchy and powerful: it’s full of dramatic energy and power riffs. These three songs, however, would have just been too damn fluffy and adorable for the serious image the band were trying to convey in Frengers. “Mica” is a super sunny pop ditty that’s so light and wonderful it practically floats, all heavenly falsettos, earworm choruses and shiny keyboards. “King Christian” is a daft romp with a stomping beat that could come out of a musical and which includes, of all things, a spoken word interlude featuring the titular king. “Saliva” is nothing like its namesake and sounds downright adorable – all sing-along choruses and handclaps, and some sudden tempo switches just to spice things up. These three are some of the most overtly poptacular moments Mew have committed to tape and they just wouldn’t have worked in the context of Frengers, whereas the others could with a little tweaking. They’re also the three best reasons to obtain a copy of Half a World Is Watching Me, with “Mica” and “Saliva” in particular being top class Mew.

(and besides, “Mica” and “King Christian” were re-recorded during the Frengers sessions anyway. They ended up as b-sides, and this time it was because they just weren’t strong enough. The transition tried to reshape and it didn’t quite work).

That tips the balance in favour of hearing Half the World Is Watching Me. Yes, even if you have an indepth knowledge of Frengers, this is still worth picking up. Granted, if you’re actually pondering about this you’re probably already too far in the fandom rabbit hole to back away, but suffice to say it’s a really good album with plenty to love. I should also point out that despite how I’ve titledropped other albums in this review way more many times than I’ve mentioned the one I’m actually reviewing, Half the World Is Watching Me definitely stands on its own feet as well. We’ve already established the tracks are great, the flow is good and despite only featuring eight songs it doesn’t feel too short. It’s definitely a transitional record but the transition itself is already great to listen to. So to answer the originally posted hypothetical question – the point of getting this is to get access to a bunch of great songs by a really good band who are on their way to become a great one.

The bonus disc that comes with the re-release shouldn’t really form any enticing factor, however. It doesn’t drop the ball quite as badly as the one attached to A Triumph for Man (we’ll get to that later) but still comes across as wholly inessential, even if curious. You’ve got the previously unreleased title track (s’alright) and “Quietly (Demo)” (which is pretty good and barely demo-like), but otherwise the b-sides and studio outtakes are once again missing. The live tracks go on to prove that Mew are a good live force but they offer little in the way of anything enlightening, apart from the take of “Wherever” (originally off A Triumph for Man) that’s already going through some changes from the original noise-slacker crawl to a loud, stereo-blasting guitar anthem. The Cubase demo of “156” is pretty anaemic, although the chorus is kinda entertainingly lazy in its delivery, and the demo of “Comforting Sounds” shrinks it even further: no longer a giant, it’s now “just” a big song still being worked on by a band in a room. It makes for a set of interesting curios that are good to listen to, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually had the desire to listen to the bonus disc beyond the sake of occasions like this review.

Rating: 8/10

Mew - And the Glass Handed Kites (2005)

1) Circuitry of the Wolf; 2) Chinaberry Tree; 3) Why Are You Looking Grave; 4) Fox Cub; 5) Apocalypso; 6) Special; 7) The Zookeeper’s Boy; 8) A Dark Design; 9) Saviours of Jazz Ballet (Fear Me, December); 10) An Envoy to the Open Fields; 11) Small Ambulance; 12) The Seething Rain Weeps for You (Uda Pruda); 13) White Lips Kissed; 14) Louise, Louisa

Increasing the quirkiness and the ambition, maybe a little too much.

Key tracks: "Apocalypso", "Special", "The Zookeeper's Boy"

I feel like people tag Mew with the “prog-” prefix a little too easily just because there’s been a few funny time signatures or sudden mid-song style switches here and there. On the other hand, And the Glass Handed Kites feels like a response to all the prog-pop buzz people were throwing in Mew’s way after Frengers had blown them up to international fame. You want prog-pop? Here you go, you have some prog-pop. You can have ALL OF IT.

Mew haven’t really switched their game here, per se. Their indie rock shenanigans still owe to both dream pop and shoegaze in equal amounts and they flick back and forth in the spectrum between muscular, loud rock and ethereal, delicate beauty effortlessly. There’s ambition and boldness, songs sounding like small galaxies, the surreal lyrics conjuring imagery that sounds otherwordly when sung by Jonas Bjerre’s falsetto. What’s changed is the delivery. And the Glass Handed Kites is a song sequence, a collection of chapters seamlessly segued into eachother. Chapters - not songs. Unlike most similar albums, And the Glass Handed Kites isn’t just a run of songs quickly mixed together, but this is a case where songs literally bleed into eachother - a track might have changed and you could never notice, or a song’s radically kicked into another gear and it’s a great surprise to find out it’s still the same song. It’s full of quirks, turns and twists. It’s actually really thrilling: the first few listens, and every time you return to the album after a long time, are genuinely exciting, a wild ride that just keeps going and fills you with awe. And the Glass Handed Kites puts every other segued album I’ve heard into shame.

The thrill does wear out, yes. And the Glass Handed Kites is so focused on its grandeur that digging into it deeper, you actually find a little less than what you expected. The song cycle is all that matters and the tracklist has been crafted with that in mind: short interludes, songs that bridge the gaps brilliantly but aren’t as developed or rewarding when listening to them out of context, extended ambient breaks added as outros to help with the segues. You’ll find a better number of more exhilerating songs on other Mew albums, songs that sound great in and out of their mother context - And the Glass Handed Kites lives by the long player code so devotedly that its pieces are definitely less than its whole. The latter half of the album suffers the most from this: the entire four-song stretch from “Saviours of Jazz Ballet” until “White Lips Kissed” is effectively really impressive fragments layered one after another to create a glorious run of pomp and triumph that crumbles apart completely if you ever find yourself listening to any of the songs on their own. If you’re an album listener like me, that’s great - it’s not too much of an issue - but definite trade-offs have been made between depth and surface continuity here and the more you dig into the album, the more it rears its head.

There’s still plenty of excellent material that can take scrutiny though, and in particular the first half presents another four-song stretch of note, only this time one that’s far more impressive. Putting it bluntly: the “Fox Cub” / “Apocalypso” / “Special” / “The Zookeeper’s Boy” sequence is not only the most impressive run in Mew’s catalogue, but one of the most phenomenal song stretches I’ve come across in general. The quiet “Fox Cub” serves as an unassuming intro before the steadily speeding drum beat begins to take shape and launches into space. The dark rush of “Apocalypso” blasts in with its metal-lite riffs and drum havoc, suddenly morphing into the sharp-stabbing groove of “Special”, the most straightforward song on the album and even it has a habit of freaking out and breaking down its four-to-the-floor rhythm unexpectedly across the verses. “Special” segues perfectly into the colossal “The Zookeeper’s Boy”, a larger than life and starry-eyed half ballad/half anthem that finishes the chapter with beautiful fireworks and towering triumph. They are all not only humongous and superb songs but they flow into each other so perfectly and awe-inspiringly. The concept, the execution and the craft combine gloriously: it’s where every single thing you want and expect from And the Glass Handed Kites comes on display.

Other cuts as well become familiar highlights soon - most notably “White Lips Kissed” which twitches the ballad drama dial even further and the elegantly swerving power pop nugget “Why Are You Looking Grave”. And the Glass Handed Kites is a really good album, really great even at places. In many ways it’s an essential Mew album and a general must-hear - if anything, it certainly drills down the band’s sound and ethos perfectly. On the other hand though, I only go back to it in bursts: a series of listens over a few days that fill me with awe and love, before slowly moving onto other albums (Mew or not) for a more consistent dose of excitement. And the Glass Handed Kites is, to repeat a simile, very much a musical thrill ride and like thrill rides in general, you go through it too many times in a row and it loses the wow factor. The curves and slopes become too familiar and the lulls become predictable. So, I wheel the album out a few times a year, get obsessed, fall in love all over again and then realise that beyond the “Fox Cub”-”Zookeeper” cycle, Mew’s best songwriting is found on their other albums. It’s an incredibly impressive record, nonetheless - filled with ambition and Mew’s magical touch.

Rating: 8/10