Drop Nineteens
Delaware
Wharf Cat Records
The fight for “Winona” was one for the ages. To hear Drop Nineteens mastermind Greg Ackell tell it, different versions of the assertive and arresting beauty from Delaware, the Boston band’s astonishing 1992 debut album, were mixed — one by producer Paul DeGooyer and another by assistant engineer Vincent Buckholz II, who later conspired with the group to finish it away from DeGooyer’s prying eyes. It was all very cloak and dagger.
Sitting in judgment, presented with both, Caroline Records executive Keith Wood couldn’t decide between them. So, he left it up to Ackell to pick one for Delaware. Of the two, the latter was Drop Nineteens’ choice, allowing twists of pulse-pounding guitar and hard-panned, doubled vocals to swim across a more immutable, driving current, whereas DeGooyer’s attempt varied the dynamics, so they shifted from soft to heavy throughout. Neither side backed down, and things may or may not have gotten physical along the way. However, in the end, DeGooyer’s power play failed, and Ackell won the war. Regarding the innovative take of Buckholz II’s that ultimately appeared on Delaware, Ackell said, “It instantly changed my whole approach to the mix of ‘Winona,’ and to some extent the sound of the band ever after.”
Simply put, “Winona,” which once landed in rotation on MTV’s 120 Minutes, is one of the greatest shoegazer tricks ever conjured, as it experiences the most heavenly, languid comedowns amid blasts of full-on, dreamy radiance seemingly emanating from Swervedriver’s 99th Dream. “Another record shop story that was born to die” is a loaded line from “Winona,” and perhaps, it applies to the tale of Drop Nineteens, too, who dissolved after making 1993’s National Coma. After all, they opened for Blur and PJ Harvey back then, and had help from Dinosaur Jr.’s J. Mascis and Blondie’s Jimmy Destri in recording their sophomore LP, but lineup instability eventually did them in.
As the only founding member remaining after the National Coma tour, Ackell burned it all down, only to revive Drop Nineteens in 2022 and release their third album, Hard Light, a year later. But Delaware needed a legitimate vinyl reissue, with the predominant format of the day in the early ‘90s being CD. And so, here it is, the young girl on the cover now holding flowers instead of a handgun, the original avant-garde imagery suggesting she’d committed an unlikely armed robbery. Why the change in narrative? Some of the proceeds are going to Artist for Action to Prevent Gun Violence.
The cause is just, but the reasons for revisiting the visionary Delaware have more to do with its restless spirit, vivid contrasts, and ingenious creativity than simple altruism. Widely considered a shoegazer classic, and rightly so, Delaware is unpredictably brilliant and utterly engrossing, swerving from the sweetly strummed “Baby Wonder’s Gone” and “My Aquarium” headlong into the bright supernova “Angel” and the dense, abrasive, swirling nightmare “Reberrymemberer,” as the flashing instrumental “Kick the Tragedy” wistfully waxes and wanes, a child’s disembodied voice drowning in lovely effects. My Bloody Valentine’s distant relatives in America rebelled against the ethereal dogma of their English brethren, as evidenced by the title track’s loud tidal wave of sound. In doing so, while the Brits’ noisy bits caught their fancy, Drop Nineteens established their own identity, and Delaware was where they flourished.
