X4: The Best Of Ride is a fairly unsurprising best-of retrospective — it’s two compact discs with a truckload of singles and a few rarities, starting chronologically with Ride’s debut 1990 EP, and closing with material off of their 1996 half-realized last album, Tarantula. Actually, that’s not true — the last four songs are the b-sides. Go figure.


With that knowledge, it’s assumed one doesn’t look at this as an album — like most best-ofs — but as a capsulation of what this band did. And what a capsulation this is!


You might be asking one thing of this review, and that’s “What did this band do that made them so great?” Well, the odds were certainly stacked against Andy Bell and company, for one. They were never able to reach the dizzying heights of My Bloody Valentine’s noise orchestras, something that any band operating under the shoegazer label must have valued. But Ride were different, and in many aspects, better than My Bloody Valentine, simply because they had a strong songwriting sense. Closer to Isn’t Anything than Loveless, instead of using guitar drone as the center, Ride utilized it as flourishes for their pop songs.


The closest they ever got to full-blown, “Blown A Wish”-style chaos-on-music was their 8-minute opus “Leave Them All Behind,” a song that truly epitomizes Ride — it starts off as a complete pop song, and even though there is always a strong melody and distinguishable classic rock guitar solos, underneath is a wall of shoegaze drone and synthesized beeps and clicks. A rush of clangy bass “rides” underneath the song, and when this band locked into the groove, it becomes quite obvious that Ride were a pop band, pure and simple.


Maybe the reason Ride deserves a place in music history is because of their influence. While My Bloody Valentine certainly had their fair share of people — one Mr. B. Corgan here — Ride was far more varied and far-spreading. Grabbing a hatful of the biggest “alternative hits” of the last ten years, it’s pretty apparent. “Lazarus” by the Boo Radleys is just achingly familiar of Ride’s “OX4," a somber but bouncy, guitar-laced romp, and even up to today, Coldplay’s “In My Place” completely rips the drums and opening chords of “Dreams Burn Down.” Then, there’s that whole tuneful subsection of shoegazer (Lush, et al.) — don’t make me go into that. The biggest direct descendants, though, have been Oasis. Completely tearing away the wailing, over-the-top classic rock guitar solos over smooth textures has become Oasis’ signature motif, and guess what — now Andy Bell is their bassist! Listen to this best-of, then listen to “The Hindu Times.” Please.


Ride themselves, though, have gone through quite a journey themselves, as it becomes apparent just by listening to this document. The band’s debut single (and lead-off track here), “Chelsea Girl,” is a roaring guitar machine, propelled by the Bell/Mark Gardener guitar and vocal interplay, and an off-the-wall rhythm section. Punk energy meets shoegazer drone on this one, and it’s quite invigorating. But it couldn’t be farther from a song at the end of these discs, “I Don’t Know Where It Comes From,” off of Carnival of Light.


Maybe this too, shows why this band is so important. How can they progress (or digress, depending who you are) from guitar assault to ... a Byrds rip-off produced by George Drakoulias (he, my friends, is behind the Black Crowes)? And still be awe-inspring. I don’t give a shit that the solo in this song sounds faux-Kentucky fried. I don’t even give a shit that there’s a kiddie choir, used solely to tug at the heartstrings. And you know what? Neither should you. Because this song is so beautiful, it’s so hopeful and naïve that it works— illustrating Bell’s innate knack for layered tunefulness.


I won’t blame you for having your doubts, because maybe this recorded de-evolution shows why Ride is total shit. “Black Nite Crash” is Ride’s “Rocks” to Primal Scream — the track where you see just how wrong it all went, the mess of half-baked blues and lyrical gems like “it’s all right, it’s all right.”


But there’s so much this retrospective has to offer, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t ignore that. “Vapour Trail” is one of the most beautiful things ever to come out of England in the early 1990s, with a lilting guitar, bruised vocals, syncopated drums, and a viola. Party people, get down while you cry. “Twisterella" sounds like it should be an all-out rocker (or a ridiculous hair-metal track), and at times, it sounds like both, but the jangled guitar saves the song from careening over the edge. The self-parodying cover of the Creation’s “How Does It Feel To Feel” is a ridiculous mod swagger number, and when the cowbell kicks in, you can’t help but just give up.


So you want a good introduction to this band, you’ve come to the right place — this nearly matches The Best Of Blur for covering a band’s widely changed career, with the highs and lows intact.