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**Echo & The Bunnymen - Porcupine**
★★★★☆

By 1983, Echo & The Bunnymen had already established themselves as one of Liverpool's most compelling exports since The Beatles, but they were restless. Following the critical acclaim of their breakthrough albums "Crocodiles" and "Heaven Up Here," Ian McCulloch, Will Sergeant, Les Pattinson, and Pete de Freitas found themselves at a crossroads. The post-punk landscape was shifting beneath their feet, and the band felt the pressure to evolve or risk becoming another footnote in music history. Enter "Porcupine," an album that would prove both their most ambitious statement and their most divisive.

The recording sessions at Trident Studios in London were notably fraught, with producer Ian Broudie walking a tightrope between the band's artistic vision and commercial expectations. McCulloch, never one to shy away from grandiose statements, declared his intention to create "the greatest album ever made," a typically bold proclamation that would haunt the record's reception. The tension was palpable – drummer Pete de Freitas was struggling with personal demons, while McCulloch's ego had inflated to near-mythical proportions, earning him comparisons to a young Jim Morrison, though perhaps with less charm and more Scouse attitude.

Musically, "Porcupine" represents the Bunnymen at their most experimental and, arguably, their most pretentious. The album abandons much of the raw post-punk energy that defined their earlier work in favour of a more polished, orchestral approach. Will Sergeant's guitar work remains the album's beating heart, weaving intricate tapestries of sound that shift from crystalline beauty to thunderous discord, often within the same song. His playing here is nothing short of masterful, creating sonic landscapes that perfectly complement McCulloch's increasingly theatrical vocal delivery.

The album's centrepiece, "The Cutter," stands as one of the band's finest achievements – a swirling maelstrom of paranoia and beauty that builds to an almost unbearable climax. McCulloch's vocals soar over Sergeant's hypnotic guitar lines while the rhythm section provides a relentless, driving foundation. It's the sound of a band operating at peak powers, creating something genuinely transcendent. "Silver" proves equally compelling, with its shimmering guitar arpeggios and McCulloch's most vulnerable vocal performance, stripping away the usual bravado to reveal something genuinely moving beneath.

"Clay" showcases the band's willingness to experiment, featuring unconventional song structures and an almost psychedelic sensibility that recalls their earlier, more adventurous moments. The track builds slowly, layering instruments and voices until it reaches an almost overwhelming crescendo. Meanwhile, "Higher Hell" demonstrates their ability to craft immediate, punchy songs without sacrificing their artistic integrity, though some critics argued it was their most obvious attempt at radio-friendly material.

However, "Porcupine" is not without its flaws. The album occasionally suffers from its own ambitions, with some tracks feeling overworked and lacking the spontaneous energy that made their earlier records so compelling. McCulloch's lyrics, while often striking, sometimes veer into incomprehensible territory, and his vocal delivery can feel overwrought. The production, while generally excellent, occasionally smothers the band's natural chemistry beneath layers of studio polish.

Despite mixed initial reviews, "Porcupine" has aged remarkably well, revealing new layers with each listen. Critics who initially dismissed it as overblown have come to appreciate its scope and ambition, recognizing it as a crucial bridge between the band's post-punk origins and their later, more mainstream success. The album's influence can be heard in countless indie and alternative bands who followed, from The Stone Roses to Interpol.

Today, "Porcupine" stands as perhaps Echo & The Bunnymen's most complex and rewarding album – a record that demands patience but rewards it handsomely. While it may lack the immediate impact of "Crocodiles" or the focused intensity of "Heaven Up Here," it represents the band at their most creatively adventurous. It's an album that captures a group of musicians pushing themselves to their limits, sometimes succeeding brilliantly, sometimes stumbling, but always remaining utterly compelling. For a band that always aimed for greatness, "Porcupine" comes tantalizingly close to achieving it.