Dirty Three were an unlikely success story in the mid-1990s, being an instrumental Australian band that foregrounded the violin. But their sweeping, swelling, often unmappable sound wound up being the perfect counterprogramming to so much of the era’s word- and image-driven indie rock. The band even toured as a support act with the likes of Pavement and Sonic Youth in 1995 alone. That, and a record deal with revered Chicago label Touch and Go, set the table for the critical acclaim and crossover success that attended 1996’s Horse Stories. The album isn’t some grand statement, but rather an extended showcase of everything that made this band so special. Even compared to contemporaneous instrumental acts like Tortoise, Mogwai and Godspeed You! Black Emperor, the musical trinity of violinist Warren Ellis, guitarist Mick Turner and drummer Jim White seemed more like they had accidentally strayed into the spotlight from somewhere quite off the beaten path. It’s there in the rustic tugs, playful curlicues and melancholy drag of Ellis’ primary instrument, as well as in the gently bristling guitar and brushed drums often supporting that quietly questing violin. Despite being more consistent in overall feel than the band’s self-titled 1994 album—which could shift starkly in mood from song to song—Horse Stories does still pack an array of twists. On “Sue’s Last Ride”, the pace suddenly picks up after five and a half minutes as the trio’s seamless arcs of expansion and contraction give way to a downright frenzied pitch that reflected the wilder stretches of their live shows. “Hope” then begins so serenely, as if in need of a comedown following that outburst, the highlight here being two different violin parts playing off each other. “I Remember a Time When You Used to Love Me” is an adaptation of a mournful ballad by Greek composer Giannia Spanos that reels from a lurching waltz to another sneaky acceleration while kicking up plenty of distortion along the way. Deepening that sense of contrast, Turner’s usually subtle guitar scaffolding turns chaotic and punky during the sheer elemental squall of “Red”, only for the closing “I Knew It Would Come to This” to unfold like a featherweight lullaby by comparison. As the album ends with a parting wisp of violin, it’s an invitation to start the whole thing over again and revisit the impressive amount of territory covered in total.