Goldrush - 'Ozona' (Truck Records)
4/5
By: Kevin Molloy
Returning songsmiths Goldrush's 'Ozona EP' is named after a tiny mid-western village in which the band's tourbus broke down, and a location within which they soon found themselves drinking extensively and firing off guns with the locals. Naturally.
True to the inebriated tale, the work is an exercise in looseness of form, in the vein of a '70s Teenage Fanclub. You like sweeping guitar sounds reminiscent of the rolling plains of the Southern states, with achingly crooned lyrics and floating harmonics? Fancy that, so do they! And they'll be damned if anyone's going to stop them appearing here. Frenzied attacks upon the axe - spiralling out of control like a rocket-powered supermarket trolley, steered by burly teens? Beach Boys harmonies?
Trite maybe, but there's also a fair degree of cock to this rock. The swaggering rhythms of the opening 'Wait For The Wheels' are completely infused with decades past - from the winsome melodies of Skynyrd to, even, the pouting riffage of Zeppelin; the combination of acoustic guitar and electric slide is a classic one, even more-so with the sporadic organs; but it's one they've made their own.
And this is Goldrush, we pinch ourselves? Young-esque, balladering songsmiths gone hard? Not quite. That mellower side of theirs shows through with the anthemic 'There's A World', but the Oxfordians are quick to remind us of their potency with its methodical build-up to the valve-distorted guitar wranglings of such a drug-addled genre. Yet, elsewhere, the humble rambles of 'All The Faces' and 'Things I've Lost' let the EP down, lacking the energy and sheer engagement the band exemplified with that entrance.
The bulbous bass and organ riff of 'Jupiter', however, soon sets things straight once more; spiralling six strings and horns combining to make those smile lines on your face permanent furrows, especially in the arms aloft outro of retro-epic proportions. Then redemption, salvation and rejoice befall us with the rollicking '52nd state'. Gleaming guitars punctuate yet more cantankerous bass, with the downtrodden vocals making a supremely satisfying blend of classic-rock anthemery and introspective indie.
Yet Goldrush's forté is not as genre-bending, as it may seem. Simply they will not rest shy of laying down whatsoever they please. The result is an honest and lo-fi portrayal of a band that are enjoying this life, still small-time and on the road; but there's more than a glimmer of hope that the tourbus could be upgraded to incorporate a Playstation, groupie bunk-beds and maybe, just maybe, a reliable engine if they can keep this stature up.
Artists in this article: Goldrush
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