If you know me at all, you know that my first and only favorite band has always been the legendary Goldfinger. Their viciously passionate tunes are the primary reason I picked up my bass guitar or began compiling an arsenal of records. They’re a massive influence on my own art, and the gateway that got me into punk, ska, hardcore, metal—all of it.
But when they dropped The Knife this summer, their first record in nearly a decade, something held me back from running to the record store and grabbing a copy. Some trepidation, perhaps at their long hiatus or the apparent lineup upheaval, had me making excuses as to why I hadn’t heard a single song, let alone bought a copy. It was a full two months before curiosity got the best of me and I checked it out.
And as I should have known, Goldfinger always comes through for me.
The Knife is certainly not your standard Goldfinger record, but neither is it any less Goldfinger than I had hoped for. There are amazing dynamics across both the sound and the composition; the record opens with a punk ripper “A Million Miles,” followed by a too-danceable-for-its-own-good ska anthem “Get What I Need.” Goldfinger flaunts dynamics in the individual compositions as well, using quiet verses to amp heady choruses, juxtaposing grinding slash beats with insanely catchy pop hooks. The Knife ranges far in both genre and intensity, so that no matter what your stylistic preferences are, Goldfinger delivers hard.
If I’m being honest, one of the biggest worries my heart housed when this record was released had to do with the lineup changes. My heart holds endless room for the first two incarnations of Goldfinger, so when I heard that John was the only returning member for The Knife, I felt a little disheartened. To then learn that both Charlie Paulson and Darrin Pfeiffer had since cut off contact with John, and that Kelly Lemieux had left to play bass in Buckcherry of all acts, only served to deepen my depression about the whole affair. While I’ve always loved John Feldmann’s infectious songwriting and sincere energy, it was the band Goldfinger that I loved, not the name, and to think that it had become “the John show” left me feeling less than excited for the release of The Knife.
That said, when I finally gave it a shot, I was surprised to find that the new lineup carries this comprehensive and powerful collection of songs with ardor. Philip Sneed handles his guitar with skill and grace, his leads melding seamlessly with the rhythmic thrashing that John and bassist Mike Herrera set down. The drums are manned almost exclusively by none other than the pop-punk legend Travis Barker, though Twenty One Pilots’ Josh Dun also makes an appearance on “Orthodontist Girl.” In addition, The Knife is loaded with spots by guest musicians, many of whom apparently collaborated on writing, bringing fresh minds and voices to Goldfinger’s music.
Despite John’s lackadaisical creation process, there is still a whole lot of substance to the songs that make up The Knife. John spends much of the record writing about his past from the perspective of the present, reminiscing on times good and bad and analyzing his relationships with family and friends. “Who’s Laughing Now” was apparently written about a “business relationship that went sour,” one that John “loved and cherished,” while “Tijuana Sunrise” describes his dangerous and debauched youth after his parents had “tossed [him] aside.” Similarly, “Get What I Need” wanders through the positive memories of John’s punk-rock youth, while the re-recorded “Am I Deaf” looks back on those same instances from the perspective of a 40-something family man trying to reconnect with his youth.
Though some substance may still be lacking, overall this record is insanely tasty, and I know without doubt this CD won’t be leaving my car’s rotation for a long time. The Knife gathers the iterations of Goldfinger’s past and brings them into a crisp and catchy present tense. John Feldmann knows that, despite the various changes that age and experience have brought, Goldfinger is still a huge part of his life, one that he’s “not ready to let go of yet.” And so I will not let go either, but instead revel in Goldfinger’s continued vitality and evolution in the same way a fourteen-year-old me did: with wide eyes and anxious ears.
Every music enthusiast has some band that they idolized during their formative years, only to find out that, when the visor of youthful bliss had been lifted, that act was never really all that great. For me, that artist is Chicago pop-punk masters MEST, whom I first discovered in the liner notes of Goldfinger’s Hang Ups. I soon landed on a copy of Destination Unknown, and was ecstatic to find another act that was everything I loved in music: fast, loud, catchy, and angsty. And though a decade later, Destination Unknown now plays like a guilty pleasure, I still am quite in love with its almost kitschy charms.
As a unit, MEST is extremely tight and quite creative, and do manage to put together a powerful array of songs on their sophomore major label effort. Guitarists Tony Lovato and Jeremiah Rangel thrash through heady power chord riffs, one guitarist occasionally dipping into a melody or trading off vocal duties to the other. Bassist Matt Lovato lays a groundwork of extreme integrity, while drummer Nick Gigler flies through fills, slashing his drum heads in half with his speed. Their collective energy is virtually unmatched by other acts; songs like “Opinions” and “It’s Over” are so lively that I have no trouble imagining the band jumping up and down in the studio while recording. As instrumentalists, MEST sure has a grip on their genre, and deliver an intensity and honesty that had me frothing at the mouth when I was a kid.
Produced by Goldfinger frontman John Feldmann, the sound of Destination Unknown is loaded with hallmarks of his mentoring, one aspect that really helps it stand out. There are constant dynamic shifts throughout each song, making every second interesting and every repeated section unique. Besides their well-worn punk sound, MEST creates variety by dipping into other genres as well, emulating ska in “Reason,” touching on pop in “Mother’s Prayer,” and toying with hip-hop beats in “Cadillac.” Furthermore, songs like “Living Dead” steer away from the general verse-chorus-verse song structure, adding further intricacy to the album. While MEST certainly brings some worthwhile pieces to the table on Destination Unknown, it is the guru-like advice and production of John Feldmann that makes each song pop in its own way, letting the record explore sounds and spaces that it might not have otherwise.
One song where instrumentation and production coalesce flawlessly is the driven and emotive “Drawing Board.” Opening with a dolorous guitar riff that establishes the mood, MEST uses the room of the song to stretch in all sorts of directions, thrashing through a punk chorus broken up by gentler verses, beating down on a rhythmic bridge, and even peppering in a gentle, melodic guitar solo. Both Jer and Tony interweave their voices in harmonies and counterpoints throughout the song’s coda, before capping everything with a reverb-drenched choral outro. While John Feldmann’s fingerprints are all over the arrangement, it is MEST’s die-hard execution that brings “Drawing Board” to life.
If I’m being honest, the instrumentation, arrangement, energy, and production of Destination Unknown are all superb, if not near flawless. This record has it all in the instruments, but unfortunately, the lyrics suck more than a little life from the songs. While simplicity is to be expected from a pop-punk act, MEST seems to put the bare minimum of effort into their writing, i.e. piling some words on top of a melody. Though they may be catchy, the opening lines of “Another Day” feel like they were scrawled inside a high school freshman’s diary: “Another day gone by / and still no reason why / you say goodbye and then you cry.” Similarly, the lines “Frustrated with what’s going on / I feel lost and I don’t feel right” from “Opinions” sound like they came from the pen of an automaton. And while they do craft a few interesting phrases here and there, for most of Destination Unknown, both Tony Lovato and Jer Rangel unfortunately seem far more focused on finding cheap rhymes than imparting anything insightful.
There is a horrifying weakness in the lazy writing on Destination Unknown, but truth be told, MEST is not an act trying to impress anyone. As Tony puts it, although they consider themselves “serious musicians,” they are certainly “not serious as people,” and that comes through in their extremely general lyrical writing. There is a massive atmosphere of fun throughout Destination Unknown, pervading every song regardless of its tone or lyrical content. The music is made to incite mosh pits, to whirl around to while thrashing at a guitar, or simply to laugh, nothing more. When the band needs to be serious, such as in arranging their instrumentation or in dedicating a song to the Madden brothers’ mother, they are more than capable; the rest is just four friends having fun doing what they love.
Listening back to this record, I find myself laughing more than a little at the pedestal I used to place under Destination Unknown, whose instrumentation still holds up as powerful and complex while the lyrical sentiments and execution leave me cringing. But still, Destination Unknown stands as pivotal in my musical upbringing, having fostered much of my own teenaged angst at a time when I didn’t know where else to put it. With each listen, I am immediately taken back to my thirteenth year, sitting in my cold basement and stumbling along on my bass to the rhythms of “Fuct Up Kid” or “Breaking Down,” warmed with a fun, rocking nostalgia that I wouldn’t trade for anything.
Disclaimer: The following piece is a super in-depth look at one of my favorite records, and as such, it is riddled with personal opinions and praise for said record. This cannot be helped.
Though I’ve spent the last decade immersed in music, diving
into new genres and endlessly working to expand my sonic horizons, only one
band has held my fascination and reverence through the whole journey. Since my
teens, Goldfinger has been my absolute favorite artist, my gateway into punk
and ska, and the main inspiration behind all my musical endeavors. No matter
how many times I’ve heard one of their songs, each listen is as fresh and
awe-inspiring as the very first time, and even at their worst, Goldfinger adds
some incredible element to their music that keeps me both interested and
enamored.
My obsession began when my best friend, whose
enthusiasm for Goldfinger rivals my own, introduced me to their music.
Together, we have analyzed and dissected every song and every record, ranking
them in the most objective manner that two superfans can. And though each of
Goldfinger’s albums has its strengths, to me, their eponymous debut has always
come out on top, perhaps not as their best record, but certainly as my
favorite. To me, it is the epitome of their energy, and all of its sixteen
tracks (including the ridiculous prank call) exude originality, enthusiasm, and
honesty in amounts that I have yet to experience anywhere else.
Despite being released in the midst of the punk/ska
craze in the 90’s, and out of southern California no less, Goldfinger’s
self-titled record is anything but conventional. The combination of high
caliber musicianship and diverse influences produces an incredible amalgam of
sound that is completely unique to this act. Charlie Paulson absolutely murders
his guitar, ripping through solos and providing tasteful harmonization to John
Feldmann’s rhythm. The interaction between Charlie and John is flawless, their
compositions working together to create melodic and driving treble episodes.
This duo also provide a range of energy and intensity: “Miles Away” jumps with
pop-punk exhilaration, “My Girlfriend’s Shower Sucks” features a slow reggae
groove, and “Nothing to Prove” is hardcore-punk at its finest.
Grounding two such creative and prolific lead players
would be a severe challenge for most rhythm-section men, but for Simon Williams
and Darrin Pfeiffer, it seems as natural as breathing. Simon’s bass tones punch
and rumble, and underneath the chord changes, his walking lines move as
seamlessly as a school of fish through the ocean. Darrin’s drumming is just as
complex, as his improvisational style, incredible speed, and thundering energy
meld endlessly beneath the strings, leaving no section without a rock-solid
percussive foundation. Both drums and bass take turns in the spotlight over the
course of Goldfinger, giving us moments to drool over each
instrument, yet even more incredible is how well these two players work
together. Darrin’s kick drum seems attached to Simon’s lower register, their
parts interweaving and meshing to provide impeccable backdrops to the treble
section.
Against this armada of instruments lay the vocal
stylings of John Feldmann, whose impassioned performances immediately suck the
listener into the maelstrom. His energy bleeds through the speakers, and the
fervor with which he sings and shouts is so apparent and honest that it’s easy
to forget he recorded his parts in a studio rather than in the middle of a mosh
pit. What’s more, every vocal part is tinged with the unmistakable accent of a
smile, assuring the listener that John Feldmann had a hell of a time recording
these vocals, and loved every second of it.
This excitement and delight dripping from John’s
vocals bleeds all over his lyrics as well. Although no poet, John concisely and
effectively communicates his ideas with his word choices, utilizing both
profanity and blatant honesty to leave no confusion as to his intent. In “The
City with Two Faces,” his choral scream of “Fuck LA!”[1]
is both powerful and catchy, and his self-loathing lament of “I know I’m fucked
up and I wish I was dead”[2]
in “Mind’s Eye” is sung with a voracity that almost contradicts his lyrical
moping. Most of John’s topics are personal yet universal, spinning tales of his
life at this point and delivering them so we can’t help but sing along. And
while he generally takes a serious approach, the humor ingrained in
Goldfinger’s being is hardly stifled: “My Girlfriend’s Shower Sucks” grieves
over poor water pressure, and “Mable” regales a tale of a three-day
relationship ending in infidelity. Though the prose on Goldfinger demands
no dissection, every line is coated in mirth and conveyed with elegant
simplicity, leaving songs lodged in the head for hours afterward.
Without question, I could gush over this record until
I had a dissertation’s worth of text, because to me, there is a geyser of
intrinsic, almost primal truth welling from the creases in this jewel case.
Every note and every word on Goldfinger resounds with me more
than any other piece of music I’ve encountered. Thus, I feel a general overview
of such integrity would be an insult to both this incredible band and to my
readers, and only a track-by-track analysis can sufficiently bring every
incredible facet of this record to light.
1.Mind's Eye
With this opening track, Goldfinger sets the pace of their
debut record at a sprint. “Mind’s Eye” explodes with purified punk intensity,
kicking off with a slash beat drums and bullet-train chord progressions. John’s
vocal melodies soar through catchy rhythms that demand crowd participation.
Coupled with his exuberant delivery, his intelligent approach to his vocal part
creates a strong contrast against his whiny self-loathing lyrics, forcing us to
take his complaining in an ironic light. Despite the circle pit tempo, the
entire band is tight, nailing all their syncopated hits and transitions with
cold precision, immediately giving the listener a hearty serving of the
astonishing attention to detail that defines this band’s sound. Loud, fast, and
loaded with clever compositional choices, “Mind’s Eye” provides the perfect introduction
to an album, immersing the listener in all things Goldfinger by grabbing and
tossing him in headfirst.
2.Stay
Goldfinger charges through “Mind’s Eye” with such
ferocity that even when as barrel into “Stay,” not an iota of energy is lost.
In contrast to its predecessor’s manic feel, “Stay,” is more easy-going, a
pop-punk party with a hint of swing. The band starts at a moderate tempo,
letting the groove at the heart of the song thrive in palm mutes and heady
bass. John’s vocals take center-stage here, his melodies simple but extremely
effective. Against the norm, virtually none of John’s lines are tied together
with end rhyme, but his note choices and rhythmic singing is so fluid and
natural that each lyric seems to slide naturally into the next.
With “Stay,” Goldfinger introduces on this record a
musical theme that is prevalent throughout their career: the sudden change in
energy, where the entire band unexpectedly yanks the throttle to full. “Stay”
gives us a first taste of this idea when the instrumentation slips out of the
swinging groove into a soft bridge: Darrin taps his ride cymbal and Charlie
picks through chords while John laments the absence of his significant other.
They let this lull go just long enough to set in, and then immediately burst
into fast hits and thrumming power chords, repeating both verse and chorus at a
manic pace and sprinting to the end of the song. This abrupt outburst turns
knocks “Stay” from being a great tune into being an incredible one, and the
ferocious way that Goldfinger pulls the trigger on this double-time coda
demonstrates just how enthusiastic these four musicians are about their music.
3.Here in Your Bedroom
Because of its moderate success as a single, for the many
uninitiated, “Here in Your Bedroom” counts as their only exposure to this
monster act. Fortunately for them, however, this tune is easily one of the best
examples of the myriad and multifaceted sound of Goldfinger. Opening with a fun
and complex syncopated drum beat, Darrin sets the stage as ska with his raucous
rimshots, supporting the upstroke chords and inventive melody that soon
follows. Charlie and Simon drive the feel of the song, and the band’s decision
to modulate this riff with each chord creates harmonies and progressions that
flirt with jazz theory. Realistically, most acts have trouble pulling off one
key change, and for anyone else, the decision to play verses in a completely
separate key from the chorus would be insane. Yet Goldfinger proves that
audacity pays off, as this continual shift in key (another theme that spans
this band’s entire career) is executed with effortless grace and confidence.
One factor that really sticks out in this song is
John’s dualistic approach to the subject matter. At first listen, the lyrical
ideas seem almost obvious: the speaker, languishing comfortably in his
relationship, secretly frets over the security of that position, knowing that
overnight, everything could change and he could be left behind. The initial
read suggests this almost clingy character refusing to let the relationship
grow and refusing to grow himself, as in the chorus he continually repeats “I
still feel the same.” However, a closer look at the verses makes the nature of
the song take a 180. The speaker’s admissions of “Here in your bedroom / I can
turn my head off / The less that I feel / Is the less that I’m on top” can be
read to suggest that he comes to this girl with the intention of not thinking
or feeling anything—in his mind, there is no commitment or relationship, only
what exists between them in the bedroom, and his incessant worrying of “will
you still feel the same” is a fear that she will begin to feel something more
than physical attraction. Thus, using very simple language, John creates a
dichotomous paradox of words with “Here in Your Bedroom,” simultaneously
describes a longing for and aversion to deep connection.[3]
4.Only A Day
A short burst of pop-punk, “Only a Day” is two minutes
packed with absolute passion and devotion. Goldfinger comes in with guns
blazing and maintains this fury through the whole song. Simon’s bass tones are
especially punchy underneath Charlie’s feedback-ridden guitar riffs, and Darrin
smashes his snare so hard it sounds as if he is striving to shatter the head.
John’s vocals are just as ardent, as he relies on shouting much more than
actual singing, yet his interesting melodies and catchy songwriting only
benefit from the extra energy bleeding through the speakers. Even when the song
breaks down into a gentle acoustic facsimile of the verse (one of my favorite
moments on this record), the hushed tone only serves as a launch pad for these
four to explode outwards towards the coda. Between its heavy intro and
syncopated chorus hits, “Only a Day” never fails to pump me up, and remains one
of my absolute favorite tunes from Goldfinger’s catalog.
5.King for a Day
Where its predecessor was as straight forward as music
can be, by comparison, “King for a Day” is perhaps one of the most
sophisticated compositions on Goldfinger. The song operates on the
very idea of modal changes: the verse and chorus are rooted primarily in D
mixolydian, yet the song shifts a whole tritone for the verse into G# major.
Such drastic key changes are unheard of outside of freeform jazz, yet
Goldfinger cruises between these keys without breaking a sweat—even John’s
vocals shift modes without so much as a stutter. This casual grace and
confidence is reflected in John’s lyrics, which offer a tender warning against
working ourselves into the ground for no reason. His informal delivery of lines
like “If I write this song to you / would you listen up? / ‘Cause this is your
life, it’s not mine”[4]
remind us how important it is to occasionally just step back and groove,
because behind all the wealth, power, and drive, we are still only human.
The relaxed and unconcerned tone of “King for a
Day” is reflected in the musicianship on this track, although with a different
intention. In a 1996 interview with Drop-D
Magazine, Simon Williams asserts that
“we’re just a pop band that touches on reggae, ska, and punk….I don’t want us
to be caught up in any trends.”[5]
Despite such a humble assessment, Goldfinger are truly masters of
genre-blending, and with this tune, they deftly distill the elements of reggae
through their unique filter: Darrin’s kick drum is loaded with heady reverb,
and Simon’s bass line strolls with the laid-back elegance of a celebrity.
However, Goldfinger doesn’t stop there in their quest to drop reggae knowledge,
instead adding a smooth and subtle organ and captivating horn lines (provided in
part by members of ska-powerhouse Reel Big Fish) to really seal the flavor.
Goldfinger’s ska influences are obvious and
authentic, but this particular tinge of rude flavor has a more intelligent
application. The band gives us two verse-chorus alternations in this reggae
voice, letting the trumpets and upstroke chords lull us into a sway, only to
abruptly dump the clutch into high gear, propelling us into punk slash beats
and heavy distortion, completely reimagining the song at double the speed and
triple the volume. With “King for a Day,” besides showing off their technical
skills, Goldfinger proves that they are audacious, spending almost an entire
song convincing us that we can relax to the music, only to whip us into a
sudden frenzy and toss us into the pit like a stage-diver.
6.Anxiety
Though I love this record through and through, there is
one performance that far outshines everything else imprinted on this disc for
me, exuding more vitality and vigor than any other song. For me, “Anxiety” is
the absolute epitome of music, a song more multifaceted, intricate, and sincere
than any other piece of music I’ve ever heard, and everything that Goldfinger
does in its two-and-a-half minutes unequivocally proves my point. This song is
packed with more energy than a power plant, but simultaneously our core four
performs their parts with precision and cognizance. Simon pummels his bass,
Charlie shreds through a melodic guitar solo that is both engaging and
inspiring, and Darrin utilizes every cymbal in his kit, from tiny pops of the
splash in the second verse to upbeat smashes of the bell in the chorus. The
drumming in this song is entirely unbelievable—Darrin is incredibly precise
throughout, laying down hard beats and complicated fills that would make other
drummers forfeit the trade. However, the overall flavor of his playing feels
very improvised, as if he is sitting behind the kit with only an inkling of how
the song goes. His faultless and paradoxical meld of order and chaos endows
“Anxiety” with percussion so intense and animated, I would dare to call it
alive.
While John’s thrashing guitar holds down the chord
changes beneath Charlie’s truly astonishing lead parts, it is the frontman’s vocal
and lyrical contributions that really take “Anxiety” into the atmosphere. On
this tune especially can we hear his smile pervading the vocal, especially at
the tail-end of the chorus with the line “Feel it all and know that this will
pass.” The message ingrained in the lyrics is one that is just as stimulating
as the musicianship, as John urges his listener to stay strong against the
overwhelming human urge to overanalyze and overcomplicate every challenge that
decides to interrupt our lives. His verses trace the spiraling progression of a
person under stress and their slow dissociation from responsibility: the
subject begins by “thinking about it,” but quickly shrugs off their own
capability, leaving it in the hands of a great power by “praying about it,”
until finally they buckle under the perceived weight and start crying, giving
in to despair.[6]
Through this entire progression, John remains the
voice of reason, reminding us that there will be waves too big for us to
handle. He asserts that life doesn’t always have to be taken so seriously,
because with enough time, even the worst trials will pass. Between the
exceptional instrumentation and its sober-yet-unconcerned message, “Anxiety”
has remained for over ten years my all-time favorite composition. It is an
anthem to which I can rock out or meditate, a song born by serious musicians
who refuse to take life seriously and who remind me always to do the same.
7.Answers
In sharp contrast to the fierce punk of the previous
track, Goldfinger decides to let their ska side fully shine with “Answers.”
This atypical minor-key jaunt is led by Charlie’s raging and catchy guitar
melody, which interweaves itself with John’s searing vocals. In keeping with
their genre choice, the chorus is laden with gang vocals, the whole band
stepping in to support John’s accusatory demand to “tell me where your
skeleton’s hiding.”[7] The flavor is further
sustained with the added horn section, featuring a soulful trombone solo from
RBF’s Dan Regan. Though in live performance, Charlie’s melodic riffing would
normally take the spotlight in this tune, he humbly bows to the horns in this
recording, letting them fill the sonic space in typical third-wave fashion. All
the way through its devolving and frightening outro, “Answers” embodies the
essence of the So Cal sound that this band arose from, but filters it through
the enthusiastic and earnest camaraderie of these four musicians to create a
unique and heady Goldfinger infusion.
8.Anything
Like “Only a Day” and “Anxiety,” “Anything” is another
track that delivers a short jab of pure Goldfinger, both in energy and sound.
The connection between Charlie and John as guitarists is extremely evident:
John’s switches between full-bodied power chords and harmonizing licks, while
Charlie layers both feedback and delightful leads on top. John’s lyrical
message is also conveyed with heart-rending honesty—though he knows he is a
“martyr” for a girl that fills him “up with emptiness,” he refuses to give her
anything less than all he is. His complete resignation to this situation of
undying love remaining unreciprocated is extremely tangible in his voice, so
much so that the pause after his line “I can see sometimes you don’t want me”
implies a punctuating shrug of acquiescence. Such frank sincerity is a key
factor in making meaningful music, and one listen proves that “Anything” is
naturally swarming with it.[8]
9.Mable
Up to this point, Goldfinger has been a
largely serious and intense endeavor, but with “Mable,” this band changes gears
entirely, revealing an integral part of their sound: humor. Leading off the
goofy jam in the pregap, “Mable” is John’s parody of the longing love song.
However, this torrid affair lasts only three days: John meets Mable on Sunday
and falls for her, so much so that as of Tuesday, he marries her, exclaiming to
the world “I’m with her now until I die.” However, on Tuesday, she is steeped
in infidelity, having left John for Charlie, who is apparently hung with “a
tube of cookie dough.” Besides the literal dick-measuring contest that ensues,
John’s sappy and stupid chorus lyrics complete the romantic satire with cliché
images of “smell[ing] the flowers” and “kiss[ing] all the babies.”[9]
Though the lyrics are absolutely incredulous, Goldfinger
attacks the music in their typical fashion, as Charlie drives the song with a
super-catchy and fun guitar riff. The tune also features an energy change, as
the band explodes into cut time into the final chorus, only to cut it back
again for the outro. “Mable,” now and always an absolute standard at Goldfinger
live shows, blends both the precision and absurdity that are absolutely pivotal
to what this band is, and even after years of beating it to death, remains a
fun and hilarious listen with every spin.
10.The City with Two Faces
In a similar vein to “Mable,” this tune is loaded with
tongue-in-cheek reference and sarcasm, and is Goldfinger’s ode to the poser.
“The City with Two Faces” kicks off with a heavy distorted bassline from Simon,
who launches the tune into overdrive. This song is super-heavy, and features
the violent and driving influence of metal on this band. The band opts for
dissonance in this one, putting distortion on everything (including the vocals),
and rocking a chorus whose two chords are tritones. John screams in disdain at
the posers and fakes roaming the streets of LA, who cultivate images of
themselves as punk rockers while complaining that their “espresso is too cold,”
before dumping the tune into a jazzy breakdown in which he takes on the voice
of one of these imposters.
Over Simon’s thick walking bass line, John pokes fun at
the farcical musicians overflowing from LA, who know LA’s “got some great
bands” before butchering the name of Bad Religion, skewing it into something
reminiscent of “Badger Legion.” He further shoves his foot in his mouth by
claiming that most of Nirvana’s songs were about heroin, thus ripping on the
faux-intelligence the music scene flaunts. John’s completely facetious rant is
both hysterical and intelligent, and drills home the fact that Goldfinger,
while being composed of four absolute goofballs, has an intelligent drive
behind even their humor.[10]
11.My Girlfriend’s Shower Sucks
A slow and smooth reggae jam, “My Girlfriend’s Shower
Sucks” is Goldfinger’s breather, often cited as the mandatory slow song in a
set that allows them to relax for a moment. The chill vibe of this tune is
certainly conducive to relaxation for everyone except the speaker, who can’t
seem to get a worthwhile shower at his girlfriend’s place. Again, the band’s
humor overflows from this tune, as John compares the shower’s pressure to
urination, remarking that its poor performance makes him “grumpy” and causes
him to “lose hope.”[11]
Despite being hardly longer than a minute and offering little more than a
hearty laugh, “My Girlfriend’s Shower Sucks” is a surprisingly complete song,
and give the listener a chance to recover from the intensity before diving back
in.
12.Miles Away
Every
record has a tune that is so catchy and fun, it can hardly come fast enough,
and for this record, “Miles Away” takes the cake. Goldfinger is an act known
for their live performances (indeed, in an interview with RockZone, Darrin states “[I want people to remember] that we were a
good live band. And goddamn sexy too), and the sheer vigor with which the band
rips through “miles Away” proves that it was made for the stage.[12]
A pop-punk anthem, this tune moves so quickly that sprinting wouldn’t keep you
up with it. Featuring thrashing power chords, bright guitar licks, and
incredible vocal harmonies, this tune demands singing along, and whips even the
most placid crown into a frenzy of punk piranhas. Also, for all of its
intricate and virile movement, “Miles Away” is extremely easy to digest, with
an easy melody and only the most subtle of flourish. “Miles Away” is
Goldfinger’s gift to those who supported them at live shows, a two minute
juggernaut during which dancing is not only obligatory, but a natural extension
of the music itself.
13.Nothing to Prove
Do you want thrashing madness frothing over from your
punk rock? Of course you do! And Goldfinger’s “Nothing to Prove” has enough
insanity to drive the whole world off the deep end. This song is Goldfinger’s
excursion into pure hardcore punk: Darrin’s batters his drums in slash beats
and somehow still manages to kick it into cut time, while Simon and Charlie
rake their strings into frays across quick moving chord changes that
undoubtedly left their fingers raw, if not bloody. John’s vocals move are so
fast that they border on a mad dash. The band flies through verse-chorus
changes before crashing into a heavy groove in the bridge that gives me chills
with each listen. There is so much passion in this song that the whole band
joins in on the chorus of “nothing to prove to you,” shouting as if these five
words are their last.[13]
“Nothing to Prove” is easily the most energetic and driving tune on Goldfinger, and impressed me so much
that my friends and I named our first band after it, motivating us every night
to play with as much passion as our heroes.
14.Pictures
Another dexterous tune loaded with groove, “Pictures”
opens up with a smooth and mosaic bassline from Simon Williams, and though the
rest of the band quickly jumps in, it’s clear that Simon owns this one. His
bass is deep and furious, but each note flows charmingly into its neighbor,
keeping the frame of the song collected yet elegant. The whole ensemble
reflects this elegance against the pop/ska backdrop, as Reel Big Fish’s horn
players return for one last bout of melodies, but as with most Goldfinger compositions,
the ska bleeds into other genres, as the band shuffles into a suddenly brutal
metal breakdown, built on tritones and syncopation, before taking on a more
standard punk sound to finish off the tune.
Like the composition, the lyrics in “Pictures”
twist and turn in all directions. John’s lyrics take an ambiguous approach to
the subject of love, touching on the many facets and implications created in a
relationship. He plays the clingy lover in the first verse, complaining “Here I
am alone again / it seems like your never there,” but in the second verse, he
is the romantic, proclaiming “I’m so glad you’re here / I can’t believe I
deserve you / I thought I’d let you know.” Furthermore, while he takes these
conflicting voices of love, the song’s overall topic carries dichotomous
undertones. On one level, John’s request for a picture of his lover is cute if
not innocent, but on another his need to “look at you when you’re not there”
can be taken as a request from a sexually frustrated lover who lacks visual
stimulation.[14] John’s simple lines
explore every direction that love can take by layering them together, making
“Pictures” both an intelligent read and a sensational listen.
15.Phone Call
Though the track listing officially ends at 14,
Goldfinger leaves a few hidden and hilarious surprises tacked in the outro, and
the first, a prank phone call, is one of the most absurd things I’ve ever
heard. This call is the world’s first true introduction to the bedlam that is
Darrin Pfeiffer, a man who will soon be known for forcing audience members to
eat Twinkies wedged between his buttcheeks. In this call, Darrin answers a want
ad for a drummer, posing as the rude and strung-out “Tim-Dog.” Though Nigel,
the poor sap of a musician, attempts to ask relevant questions, Darrin takes
total control of the conversation, focusing mostly on the taboo topics of hard
drugs and STD’s. His interruptions become more crude and strange as the call
goes on, as Darrin claims to have moshed on “12 hits of acid” in a crowd of
melting people, but in the end, his ridiculous ruse somehow wins him an
audition for Abby Normal. For the world, this phone call is the first boom of
the coming storm of Darrin, but for Goldfinger to include such a skit on their
debut record is extremely bold. Goldfinger is this band’s
first true impression to the world, and with it they choose to flaunt the fact
that they don’t take themselves very seriously. Such honesty at the risk of
success is virtually unseen in the music industry, and Goldfinger’s audacity to
fly in the face of reason only verifies how confident and crazy these four
individuals (especially Darrin) are.
16.Fuck You and Your Cat
Goldfinger decides to officially close their eponymous
debut with a concocted shot of everything the record has worked to build. The minute-long
“Fuck You and Your Cat” starts slow with acoustic guitars and tapping
percussion, as John weaves through memories of a relationship in its honeymoon
twilight. But in typical Goldfinger fashion, the song turns into a thrash-punk
rocket, loaded with distortion, crunchy bass, and hasty beats. John shouts
disdainfully over the fracas, defaming his ex in the worst of ways as he sings
“So fuck your trust, your perfume and your mother too!”[15]
In this final one minute and sixteen seconds, Goldfinger recaps the many themes
that they’ve been working to solidify along the course of the entire record.
“Fuck You and Your Cat” works energy changes, incredible instrumentation,
profuse humor, and angsty relationship-related lyrical images, spinning them
all in one final burst of precise energy and enthusiasm. This hidden coda is a
perfect a footnote to Goldfinger’s record, reiterating the many musical ideals
with which they’ve been playing. It is a distilled shot of pure
Goldfinger, establishing the fundamental aspects of this band’s sound and style
that will define their coming career.
I completely understand that my love for all things
Goldfinger is certainly skewing my view of this record, and I accept that.
However, anyone who cracks open this record cannot deny the immeasurable
honesty that surges outward from this record in abundance. Goldfinger is
this band’s first true foray into the world as musicians—it is their first
opportunity to impress the world, and this band throws itself body and soul
into this record. Their enthusiasm for their own music runs rampant through the
album and flavors each tune, and is so contagious and constant that my only
impulse is to share in that raw energy.
In an interview with Al Muzer, Darrin states that “Pretty
much all we’ve ever really wanted to do [was] play shows in front of kids and
go completely crazy.”[16]
If Goldfinger shows anything at all,
it is that without doubt, this band has succeeded. With their self-titled
debut, Goldfinger wastes not a second on sucking up, giving in, or selling out.
Every note and syllable is indelibly and absolutely theirs, a brutally honest
and humble impression of their hard work and passion. This record is their
imprint on the world, with a tone both serious and flippant, but never anything
less than 100% Goldfinger.
Whether or not you explore this record is up to you, but
know this: after ten years and hundreds of songs, I have yet to find anything
remotely as honest, intelligent, or downright fun as this record. It picks me
up when I am depressed or stressed, and it keeps me uplifted hours after my
speakers have gone silent. It has and continues to influence me as an artist, a
musician, and a person, and each time I spin it, I am left with a ringing in my
ears that urges me to be all I can be without compromise.
In
my eyes, Goldfinger has always been a band that can do absolutely no wrong.
Since my first exposure to their music via Tony
Hawk’s Pro Skater, I have been an undying fan of everything this band puts
out. Goldfinger’s passion and hilarity is inherent in every composition, and
thus each tune provides a simple and incredible listening experience. I’ve
found myself connecting with Goldfinger’s ska-soaked punk rock since childhood,
and with their new single “Am I Deaf,” there is no exception.
Being
the first piece of new music released by the band in five years, “Am I Deaf” has
been held against a high standard by Goldfinger’s fans. While I am always ever
grateful for the music of Goldfinger, many found the new single to be
less-than-spectacular (see this review by Death and Taxes), especially after the stylistic experimentation of their last
two full-lengths. However, in “Am I Deaf,” there is no pretense of a band
trying to recapture what they once had. The track is 50% brutal honesty and 50%
audacity, which should be more than enough for even the most temperamental fan
to realize that “Am I Deaf” is the real deal.
The
song opens with a heavy, grooving guitar riff, which reaches full force as the
band joins in. Darrin Pfeiffer’s steady and energetic drumming pushes the tune
through tempo changes, maintaining the groove through the verse before opening
a circle pit in the chorus. Despite the uncharacteristic drop tunings, the
song’s sound is pure Goldfinger, featuring a plethora of vocal moments that demand
crowd participation. “Am I Deaf” also challenges a few musical conventions,
featuring occasional syncopated vocal rhythms and an eschewing of the
ever-present idea of maintaining a key, yet such progressive thinking only
heightens the energy of the tune without sacrificing an iota of beauty. And of
course, between the punchy bass tone of Kelly Lemieux and the metal-tinged
thrashing of Charlie Paulson, the rhythms of this song demand movement, whether
it be headbanging, moshing, jumping, or a terrifying combination of all three.
Lyrically,
this tune is unforgiving in its honesty, as John Feldmann takes a cold-shower
assessment of his and Goldfinger’s relevance in music. Every artist is forever terrified
by the idea that no one cares, and “Am I Deaf” appears to be this band’s response
to that fear. John accepts his distance from the youth that dominates today’s
music in lines like “Brush your teeth, comb your hair, what’s left of it /
Write a song, see a show, stay relevant;” he then blatantly names his fear in
the chorus, stating “Every time it feels just like I lost it” before asking
himself “Am I deaf? Or am I just a little left of what they listen to today?”
With this song, Goldfinger addresses every fear that dogs the creative mind—Do I
have anything left? Does anyone care? Am I still worth listening to? “Am I Deaf”
is not an outdated band assaulting today’s music, but rather a group of
musicians recognizing their fears, and dealing with them in the best way they
know how: beating at their instruments and shouting at the top of their lungs.
To
me, it is clear that “Am I Deaf” is no weak and worthless shout for attention—it’s
a promise of more great music and great fun from a group of guys who continue
to work together out of love for what they do, despite personal differences
(see this article on the recent Australian tour), budding families, successful
careers, and other musical projects (Charlie’s been spotted on stage with the
Black Hands, while Darrin’s been a regular resident behind the kit with the Salads).
Though every step into the future puts them farther from their past, Goldfinger
remains a formidable and evolving musical act that undoubtedly still has a lot
to say. “Am I Deaf” is a ripping tune with a heavy message, and proves that no
matter how old or how apprehensive they’re feeling, Goldfinger is still a band
that’s absolutely worth your time.
"Am I Deaf" is a grooving tune from an incredible band who, despite everything, still emphasize the fun that is central to everything they do, and I can’t recommend it enough. If
you haven’t got it yet, I encourage you to download “Am I Deaf” at Goldfinger’sSoundcloud page—they’re offering it for free, a thank you to all who continue
to listen as Goldfinger continues to rock. You can catch their equally amazing live show on the Warped Tour this summer (check out the teaser video below).
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