With a background typical of many of their New Zealand rock forbears (including my beloved Chills), GOLDENHORSE are a talented quartet who have achieved considerable success on home turf, but an outfit who remain a relatively unknown over here as their eponymous debut rears its’ pretty head on general UK release for the first time.
Except that the 13-track ‘Goldenhorse’ isn’t actually the band’s debut album at all. It’s an amalgamation of the best tracks from their two (platinum in NZ) albums ‘Riverhead’ and ‘Out Of The Moon’, although it runs pretty seamlessly and if you weren’t in possession of the facts before you slipped it into your hi-fi you’d probably be too busy marvelling at their idiosyncratic pop poise and the undoubted grace and danger in singer Kirsten Morell’s voice to notice the join.
Because there’s always room for intelligent pop, no matter what the season, especially when the band in question sound like they are clearly worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as the best Antipodean popsters such as The Church, Crowded House, The Chills and the under-rated Mutton Birds: all of whom appear as fleeting, flickering influences in the Goldenhorse melting pot, along with the obvious English seasonings such as The Beatles and XTC and plenty more besides.
So, instead of bothering our barney with too many comparisons, let’s simply enjoy the tunes on offer and Goldenhorse’s seemingly effortless and stylish way in making the best of them. We’re off to a flyer with the edgy, gritty ‘Run Run Run’, where the band drag a nice undertow of darkness in the song’s wake and Morell’s throaty voice makes its’ presence thrillingly felt. Yes, she has a tinge or two of ‘kooky’ in her delivery, but reins herself in from full-blown vocal mania a la Tori Amos or Kristin Hersh and on songs like the fulsome ‘Wake Up Brother’ and other pacy, immediate stuff like the wry ‘Cool Pants’ she’s long on charisma and presence, suiting the songs to a T.
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Although it’s probably inevitable that Kirsten will be singled out as the star, the rest of her compatriots acquit themselves admirably across the variety of moods touched on throughout the course of the album. Indeed, they sound convincing whether attacking the catchy, Pulp-ish indie-disco pulsing of ‘Don’t Wake Me Up’, employing strings and (I think) mellotron for the bittersweet kiss of the lovely ‘Out Of The Moon’ or getting seriously murderous in intent on the visceral, descriptive ‘Riverhead’ where Kerstin coos “nothing flows like the blood of lovers running over rocks” like she’s singing a beautiful lullaby. Oo-er. Remind me not to accept a cup of tea from her in the near future.
OK, occasionally they throw the odd curve which sounds like it could be hard to swallow (the cod-reggae of ‘Golden Dawn’ could have been mawkish if they hadn’t covered their asses with the strings), but mostly ‘Goldenhorse’ is a consummate set of well-played, beautifully-executed songs which introduces Western Europe to its’ newest all-conquering Kiwis in no uncertain terms. Remember their name, because I can quite easily imagine Goldenhorse doing a Helen of Troy and creeping up on the charts almost undetected before too much longer.
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