Due to the fact this is a sprawling album which flows erratically, and contains compositions of fluctuating quality, it is easy to liken `Washing Machine' to `The White Album' (albeit an uncompromisingly alternative version of The White Album). I say this mainly because of the variety of the songs exhibited here, which showcase different sides of the band's sound, along with both albums' vertiginous scale of ambition.
The opener 'Becuz' starts the album in typically claustrophobic manner (it's no surprise Geffen Records objected to its original six-minute form, and promptly gave it a trim). This is swiftly followed by 'Junkie's Promise,' which at least attempts more of a verse-chorus structure, yet is sneered with contempt by Thurston Moore (who contends the song is NOT about Monsieur Cobain) to ensure the band's fierce indie credibility remains intact.
'Saucer-Like' is one of Lee's songs and it begins with a guitar that escalates madly like a kite caught by a strong gust of wind which refuses to be tied down. Surprisingly though, the backing vocals on the chorus turn out to be quite melodic, although it's hardly vintage SY.
The title track however, sparks the band and the album into life: the opening few minutes being a frenetic, almost funky workout, with Kim growling about soda-pops and the like. Gradually, this section fades out and is replaced with something that sounds altogether different in terms of tonality, but no less impressive. A more driving Krautrock beat and bass-line enters the mix, Kim's vocals abandon their coarseness and instead sing with wide-eyed wonder; Soon enough the guitars statically sizzle like blinding rays of sun.
If all brilliant nine minutes of that isn't enough, the gorgeous `Unwind' is captivating: its poetic lyrics and glimmering guitars making it a standout, whilst foreshadowing the band's later work on albums such as `Murray Street'.
`Little Trouble Girl' is unlike anything the band ever recorded; a homage to fifties girl-groups. The melody is so innocent, but, juxtaposed against the eerie arrangement of the music, it creates a rather unsettling effect. Ultimately though, it culminates in one of the band's most memorable moments. Ex-Pixies bassist Kim Deal's vocals steal the show, just as she so often did with her former band.
The amalgamation of profanity and swagger on `No Queen Blues', as well as the decidedly unsexy grunting and chugging on `Panty Lies' dispel any notion that the band are going too soft on the album. But the album doesn't seem to be heading anywhere, with the ambient but arbitrary `Untitled' and the lacklustre lyrics of `Skip Tracer'.
However, if Daydream Nation is considered their best album, then `The Diamond Sea' still betters it as the band's indisputable magnum opus. Easily the most melodic song the band ever crafted, (although- ever unconventional- they decided to make it the longest song they ever crafted too) the finale has plenty of downright beautiful moments, along with downright ear-splitting moments (check out the final release of feedback at 18:29; it's like the nightmarish sensation of being sucked out of an aeroplane after its window has been smashed in). Even the obtuse lyrics and cracked vocals are nothing short of exemplary.
So all in all, Washing Machine stands as one of the most challenging albums by one of America's most musically challenging bands. But that doesn't make it an absolute classic. Having said that, the album's highlights are among the band's finest works, (compensating for the album's faults, which do, concededly, occupy more than half the album). Nonetheless, the album is worth getting, if only for Unwind, The Diamond Sea and the title track - which may sound silly, but then that's about 35 minutes of music in itself! This isn't for beginners: if you like louder Sonic Youth go for Goo or Dirty, for the quainter material go for Murray Street. But for anyone who enjoys challenging, yet rewarding albums, there are very few better candidates than Washing Machine.