Philly punks Nothing are back from the brink with a new record that draws on some really, really bad times.
Live Review: Goldheart Assembly
The Monarch, London Thursday, January 7
of extreme weather warnings and actually stepping things up a notch. Originally scheduled to play a two-man acoustic set, on finding that the other three of their number were, well, just hanging around in the crowd with nothing to do, they’re upgraded to a full gig.
And don’t listen to their self-deprecating pleas. Impromptu or not, everything about these boys is polished and shiny and class as a walnut dresser. The clear, crisp harmonies of Tom Waits cover ‘Clap Hands’ cut through the damp wool-coat fug of the Monarch and skewer shriveled hearts, the breathless romp of ‘King Of Rome’ proves Mumford aren’t the only young folk-rockers with grand plans round these parts. Like [a]Cold War Kids lost in Laurel Canyon and crying for succour, Goldheart’s sound is as yearning as they come. Former single ‘So Long St Christopher’ comes across like a folkier Fannies, all soft and lovelorn. When Goldheart Assembly’s album arrives in March, we would not be at all surprised to find them ‘doing a Fleet Foxes’. These plaid-shirted, lazy-haired boys are no Robin Pecknold-style otherworldy creatures, though, as the rollick and growl of ‘Hope Hung High’ proves, adding a bit of bluesy moodiness to the mix. Dale offers a final, totally unmerited apology, before leaving us pining after the devastating ballad ‘Engravers’ Daughter’.
We can only imagine the sort of formidable heart-warming they’d muster if they ‘got organised’…
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