Hindsight is a wonderful thing. When the Cocteau Twins first emerged, they were compared to Siouxsie & The Banshees. In fact - as each of their records cumulatively proved - the Cocteau Twins never sounded like anything or anyone else. And, taken together, their nine albums, and 16 EPs/singles, sound less like a band and more like an element of nature. A freak of nature, even.
Which was very 4AD. Ivo Watts-Russell has always claimed that his aim was to unearth music that was timeless, free of any trend, movement or era. Looking back to the Cocteaus 1982 debut Garlands, it's obvious that the band never sounded like the Banshees. Did Liz Fraser replicate Siouxsie's strident wail? Hardly. Even in that first incarnation (with bassist Will Heggie joining Liz and guitarist Robin Guthrie) the Cocteau Twins charted their own course.
The band's name was plucked from an old Simple Minds track. But it all began before that, when Robin and Will - old mates from school - saw Liz dancing in a disco. The location was the dour, petro-chemical centre Grangemouth, a town on the River Forth halfway between Glasgow and Edinburgh which was lovingly described by Robin as "a toilet". In a stroke of precognitive genius, the boys decided that if Liz could dance that well, then she should be able to sing that well, too. At first, Liz didn't want to join them, but relented months down the line - although she only started opening her mouth when she thought the other two weren't listening.
Robin's chance meeting with early 4AD signings The Birthday Party resulted in a tape being sent to Ivo, who was thrilled by what he heard, and encouraged them to record more. Plans for a debut single were shelved, and the stark, mercurial Garlands appeared instead. Describing it as "haunting", "spellbound", "diaphanous", and discerning a "frosting of sweetness", the critics wore out their adjective manuals; this was rock music - just - but it was conjured in the unlikeliest environment (Grangemouth) from the strangest of material.
John Peel was on board from the start too, and the band quickly recorded a four-track BBC session (which was added to Garlands when the CD was released). They stayed a trio, with a drum machine on board (never to be replaced, except for a few live perfomances in later years), so preserving their tightly knit, private world. In fact, that world was diminished rather than expanded when, after two EPs (Lullabies and Peppermint Pig) and a European tour, Will Heggie left (amicably). Robin and Liz, by then a couple, carried on as a duo. The pair recorded the Head Over Heels album and the Sunburst And Snowblind EP in 1983. On these recordings, Liz could be heard forming her own language - recognisable words emerging and submerging in a maelstrom of her own, coated and drowned in Robin's swelling guitar. Song titles came from the same ineffable place: "When Mama Was Moth", "Sugar Hiccup", "Glass Candle Grenades"... Liz became another instrument, and more.
At this point, Ivo asked Robin and Liz to record Tim Buckley's "Song To The Siren" for the collective studio project This Mortal Coil. But although there were to be three TMC records, the Cocteaus only contributed to the first one (It'll End In Tears). They clearly had other plans. One of those involved bass player Simon Raymonde, formerly of The Drowning Craze. who joined the band at the end of 1983. It was as a trio again that the band recorded The Spangle Maker EP, which included the majestic "Pearly-Dewdrops' Drops", their first Top 30 hit. With Simon on board, the band developed bottom end, deeper eddies and currents, but an increased lightness of touch, too. They were evolving with each release. Liz, especially, was pushing herself further and further.
Bolstered by all their success - number one albums and EPs in the independent charts, in the days when that really meant something - the Cocteaus played their biggest ever show at the Royal Festival Hall. Back in the studio, 1984's Treasure brought more layers of ornateness, opaqueness and stateliness to the band's sound. This time, Liz's songtitles were names: not just "Lorelei" and "Pandora", but "Ivo", "Persephone" and "Aloysius" too. Liz, in her naivety, never considered that people might put those titles and the album cover (all lace and shadows) together, and came up with the 'fey Victoriana' tag that the trio came to hate.