Live Review: Goldheart Assembly
The Monarch, London Thursday, January 7
of extreme weather warnings and actually stepping things [i]up[/i] 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 [b]‘Clap Hands’[/b] cut through the damp wool-coat fug of the Monarch and skewer shriveled hearts, the breathless romp of [b]‘King Of Rome’[/b] proves Mumford aren’t the only young folk-rockers with grand plans round these parts. Like [a]Cold War Kids[/a] lost in Laurel Canyon and crying for succour, Goldheart’s sound is as yearning as they come. Former single [b]‘So Long St Christopher’[/b] 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 [a]Fleet Foxes[/a]’. These plaid-shirted, lazy-haired boys are no Robin Pecknold-style otherworldy creatures, though, as the rollick and growl of [b]‘Hope Hung High’[/b] 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 [b]‘Engravers’ Daughter’[/b].
We can only imagine the sort of formidable heart-warming they’d muster if they ‘got organised’…
To read all our reviews first - days before they appear online - check out NME magazine, on sale every Wednesday