Hounds of Love

Hounds of Love. Written and produced by Kate Bush. EMI Records, 1985

Hounds of Love is more than just an album to me - it's a gateway into what music can be. I wrote this review recently for its 39th anniversary, but I never shared it with anyone. Now that I have my own blog, it feels like the perfect opportunity to celebrate one of the most innovative, genre-defying, and emotionally resonant albums ever made.

This album didn't just introduce me to Kate Bush - it introduced me to the idea that music could be more than just something you sing along or dance to. It showed me that music can tell intricate, emotional stories; that it can challenge you, pull you in, and take you on a journey. I discovered it by chance, and along with OK Computer by Radiohead, it turned me from a casual listener to someone who listens to albums, and opened my ears to so many more gems I wouldn't have discovered otherwise.

Even after all these years, every time I listen to Hounds of Love, it still feels like I'm embarking on a deeply personal journey, no matter how familiar it's become. There's always something new to discover - a small lyric that hits differently or a subtle musical detail I hadn't noticed before.

There's a lot of debate among fans about whether Hounds of Love or The Dreaming (which I will be reviewing on my blog soon as well) stands as Kate Bush's magnum opus. But no matter where you land, what's undeniable is the cultural impact Hounds of Love had - not just for Kate, since it somewhat saved her career, but for the entire musical landscape of the 1980s. It's an album that effortlessly bridges experimental art and mainstream pop.

What sets Hounds of Love apart is its structure. The album is split into two distinct, yet cohesive halves. The first half, titled after the record, is a five-song stretch of singles. It's the more accessible side, but still wildly original. Of course, it features the iconic opener Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God), which is as timeless now as it was in 1985. The fact that it found new life in Stranger Things proves its enduring appeal.

But for me, the best song on the album - and arguably Kate's entire catalogue - has to be Cloudbusting.

It tells the story of the bond between psychologist Wilhelm Reich and his son, Peter, from Peter's perspective. The song paints a picture of their life on a farm called Oregon, where they tried to manipulate the weather using a machine called a cloudbuster. But what gives the song its emotional weight is how it captures Peter's helplessness as he watches his father get arrested, and the deep pain of their separation. It's based on Peter Reich's memoir, A Book of Dreams. This whole thing of creating a song based on a book isn't new for Kate, and she's done this before, most notably with Wuthering Heights, but Cloudbusting stands as her peak.

As the song builds towards its climax, the drums even mimic the sound of the cloudbuster machine. So fucking genius. Everything about the song is so well thought out and the way the instrumentation is intertwined with the story ... how can you not be in awe? It also has the perfect music video, obviously, like the song wasn't enough already.

Cloudbusting also marks the end of the first half and that leads us onto the second half, which is titled The Ninth Wave. Here, Kate pulls the listener into an immersive, haunting, poetic, ambitious and cinematic (a lot of adjectives, I know) journey. This seven-song suite tells the story of a woman lost at sea, battling to survive physically, mentally, and spiritually.

My favourite cuts from The Ninth Wave are Under Ice, Waking the Witch, Jig of Life and Hello Earth. Under Ice showcases Kate's ability to take minimalistic, dark string arrangements and make them feel utterly claustrophobic. The moment the protagonist realizes they're trapped beneath the ice is one of the most chilling moments on the album. Then there's Waking the Witch, which ramps up the tension even more and also features a massive jumpscare. One than can only compete with something from Sinner Get Ready by Lingua Ignota. The song goes so. fucking. hard. with many fragmented and jarring bursts of sound, plus it literally invites Satan himself to the studio to record some vocals as well.

Jig of Life brings a much-needed burst of energy. Whenever Kate taps into her Celtic influences, magic happens, and this track is no exception. The intro and the bridge are already enough to blow my mind, but the outro with the spoken poem? Hello? How am I supposed to recover from that?

While I won't spoil how the story of The Ninth Wave ends, I will say this: the resolution in The Morning Fog feels like coming out of a storm into calm waters. It's a perfect, gentle and incredibly sweet conclusion to an intense journey that also - story aside - is a great reminder of the joys of life.

And that also leads us to the end of this review, which is a bit of a journey in itself. What can I say? I love this album, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that it shaped my understanding of what music can be. I know I'll keep coming back to it, always finding something new. It's art, it's peak storytelling, and it's timeless in a way few albums ever manage to be.