Goldfinger

Today, there should have been a post about a Sun Kil Moon album that I believe is called Ghosts of the Great Highway. Alas, I failed to give this album a dedicated listen - it's actually quite good, with a few songs that are much more hard-rock than I would have expected. But no! Instead there will be a post on the eponymous debut album by the band Goldfinger.

In the first of what will possibly be many apologies for the subject matter, I must apologize for writing about a band that is neither interesting nor challenging when better material is available. Goldfinger is very much an old friend who was comfortable working a low-rent job and drinking away its sorrows, something that remains tied to a period in my life that hasn't really existed for a decade or so now. For some reason, I placed this album in my car for listening during a drive this weekend. This proved to be a mistake, as the album was so primitive that making it through more than a couple tracks was difficult.

Goldfinger features occasional horns, a hallmark of the late 1990s for semi-punk bands to be certain, but it is very much an album by a band that is just that: a semi-punk band. This album is fairly crass and juvenile, with most of the lyrics serving as a musical tell-off for any number of anonymous failed relationships. The album certainly doesn't lack for energy, but this is misdirected energy towards low ambitions. With song titles like "My Girlfriend's Shower Sucks" and, apologies for the language, "Fuck You and Your Cat", it's not exactly Brian Wilson meeting Ken Kesey in an airport here.

True Story: I saw Goldfinger in concert once and it was fun. They played a bar show with Save Ferris and The Aquabats. I think my ears rang for three days.

I am a bit surprised that Goldfinger didn't become a more popular band in the late 1990's / early 2000's, especially with so many similar bands (Green Day, among others) sustaining popularity, and other similar horrible bands (let's say Sum 41, Good Charlotte) being thrust into the public eye for their fifteen minutes or so of fame. Perhaps Goldfinger was too profane and abrasive for radio, maybe the singer didn't wear enough hair gel and eyeliner, maybe there weren't enough references to cartoons and movies from 1985 for kids born in 1987 to relate to at the time.

In short, this album might be good as a motivational tool for high-intensity exercise, but it has more stock in being obnoxious than anything. Let us hope that better listening material prevails in the future!

In Other News:

Thank goodness for short weeks, and warm but bearable weather.

The Des Moines Art Festival was pleasant, and provided me with fewer sunburns than I had anticipated. I did eat more of the provided sugary snacks than I should have, though.