It’s 2015 and Lush is back together. What more could we want? This box set, which spans the initial iteration of the band, is a nice start as it reminds us how the group evolved and how it left us waiting, way back when. The quick and oft-repeated story about the band is that it kicked into the world around about the end of the Cold War with a sound that has heretofore become known as “shoegaze.” The band shed its collective mortal coil roughly a decade later while firmly ensconced in the burgeoning Britpop scene. Of course that doesn’t tell us much about the music other than Lush was a band dead set against stagnation. Chorus collects the studio albums, adds the usual round of rarities, etc., and emerges victorious in its intentions.

The band released a few EPs at the end of the 1980s, but a few markets, including the American one, were full-on introduced to the band via the 1990 Gala LP which compiled previous short-players Mad Love, Sweetness and Light and Scar. The album opens with one of Emma Anderson’s finest moments, “Sweetness and Light,” a song that could be mistaken for something by the Cure if not for the insistent, propulsive beats and the sweet, sweet vocal performance. It’s one of the most memorable tunes from the band’s entire oeuvre and the perfect opening to a collection that takes us on an emotional journey that’s hard to forget. There’s the harrowing “Downer,” the dreamy, poppy “Scarlet” and even a take on an ABBA classic, “Hey Hey Helen.” It’s this last track that shines brightest in the bonus material found on this disc as the band delivers an earnest rendition for a Peel Sessions appearance. The commitment not just to the song but to the band’s future is evident there and in two other Peel tracks, “Leaves Me Cold” and “Breeze.” Are these superior to the other versions? Maybe so.

The gauzy, dreamlike layers of ooh and ahhh continue on 1992’s Spooky, produced by Robin Guthrie of Cocteau Twins. It’s essential shoegazing happiness with the sliver of a tune “Stray” opening the affair, but others, such as the weighty “Nothing Natural” and the perfect “Monochrome,” are equally remarkable. Anderson brought a high yield of great material to the fold but her foil, Miki Berenyi did too. Witness “Covert,” “Ocean” and “For Love,” a brilliant mid-album trilogy with each song serving as a subtle counterpoint to the other tracks. Augmented now by songs from the Black Spring release, including a cover of the Dennis Wilson-penned number “Fallin’ in Love,” this is a curious sophomore release—it wasn’t a jinx, but it wasn’t particularly indicative of where the collective would go next.

Coming just two years after Spooky, Split was a more sophisticated record that transformed the brilliance hinted at on previous releases into something that was undeniable. Here, the band deals with emotional upheaval and complexities with melodic and harmonic content that tugs at the heartstrings as often as it makes us raise our fists in unity with tracks such as “Kiss Chase,” “Hypocrite” and the space-y “Never-Never.” If Lush made a record that could loosely fall into the realm of progressive rock, this one would probably be it. It’s the sound of the band using the studio as an instrument as much as writing material that benefited from thoughtful, multi-tiered production. Amended with acoustic versions of a few of the tracks, this is the finest of the first three discs in this box and the last one that would find the band working the familiar shoegaze angle.

Arriving in 1996, Lovelife took a more aggressive stance from the first measures of “Ladykillers.” But it wasn’t just the playing that went deeper for the jugular, the hooks took hold fast and furious and it’s hard, even now, to resist singing along with “Single Girl,” “Ciao!” or “I’ve Been Here Before.” The U.S. had had the Breeders, and Sleater-Kinney was still in its ascent while Lush was coming up with the Britpop equivalent. It paid off in spades in the sense that this is the most accessible of the records and the most hummable. Does that mean it’s the best? That’s a tough call given the quality of everything in this box, so let’s just say that it’s the best of its kind. The demos that close out this boxed version (of tracks issued on previous releases) give us a pretty good idea of how powerful Lush was in all circumstances.

The fifth and final disc, the compilation Topolino, brings together a number of odds and ends, including a snapping take on Elvis Costello’s “All This Useless Beauty.” That compilation appeared in a few different versions in 1996 and 1997, just before the band opted to break up in 1998. That was nearly two years after the final live performance in Japan and the suicide of drummer Chris Acland.

If this collection does anything besides attract new fans to the band and reinvigorate old ones, it also reminds us what a fine musician he was and how strong the writing was over the span of all these records. Add to the music a beautifully designed home for the records and you have more than ample reason to dive into this affair without reservation.