- by Huw Jones
- Tuesday, April 21, 2009
They’re the latest band to bear the unfortunate burden of a throwaway descriptive at odds with itself: Indie-Pop, far too heavy a connotative weight to simply shrug off but one easier to shoulder than the misplaced ska-monger illustrative which occasionally surrounds the North London three-piece.
It might be the capital of the world but being an indie-pop band (whatever that means) from London can inadvertently imply historic association especially if your output is voiced with poetic diction. To separate your skinny jeans from everybody else’s you need a hook, a catch, something not outlandishly different but distinctive all the same. OK so it’s by no means an exact science, but by filling the gaps left by the associated implications of their peers, Golden Silvers have stumbled upon something very close to brilliance.
Unlike many modern day fairy-tales their debut album ‘True Romance’ apparently comes without any discernable catch, unless complete lack of guitar, not conspicuous by its absence, can be classed a catch. Built around the basic foundations of drums, bass, keyboard, educated lyricism and literate articulation, Golden Silvers encourage ingenuous fantasy to create an unadulterated escape route from an authentic view of life within the capital, one far removed from those hunting in packs for the convenience of three minute repetition.
Announcing their threefold trademark with an astute air of refined confidence and more than a collective glint of romanticism in their eyes ‘Another Universe’, ‘The Seed’, ‘Here Comes The King’ and ‘Please Venus’ conjure images of a bygone age with no place for the glossy make believe of wistful reminisce. Away from the lure of antiquated grandeur their pop colours are flown at full mast with an unashamed urgency of synth stabbing that, without falling into retrograde, characteristically harks back to the cream of the 80’s. Request the pleasurable participation of doo-wop three-part harmony to the party and ‘True No. 9 Blues (True Romance)’, ‘Arrows Of Eros’, ‘Magic Touch’ and ‘Queen Of The 21st Century’ introduce an enchanting element of risk to the joy of suggestive familiarity.
Replenishing their bespoke pop elegance, the kind that invites dancing, singing and deliberation, with an embrace of breathing space and most if not all bases are more than adequately covered and an arguably unrivaled promise is underlined.
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