‘Gold Celeste is a name inspired by the beautiful play of colors and lights in the sky during the golden hour, right after sunrise or just before sunset. In a way that phenomenon reflects what we hope to achieve with our music; tempting people to pause for a while, relax in whatever manner they see fit, focus and simply indulge. Also, it’s a good stripper name.’
A good stripper name? Perhaps. Good stripper music? Certainly not.
No, Gold Celeste come far closer to achieving a sound more likely to cause you to ‘to pause for a while, relax in whatever manner [you] see fit, focus and simply indulge’ than take your kit off. Which is no doubt great news for this Norwegian three-piece, comprised of Petter Andersen (drums), Simen Hallset (bass/vocals) and Eirik Fidjeland (guitar/synth/vocals), as that is exactly their mission statement.
The band cite influences far and wide, ranging from 60s psychedelic pop, hazy 70s soul, 80s indie and hip hop, up to 90s lo-fi, shoegaze, and dreampop. They’re pretty much on the money with the music they make and those influences really. Throughout the album you can hear a little touch of each of those, often occurring simultaneously and interweaving with each other.
Opening track ‘Can of Worms’ sets the scene immediately with a quick blossom into its melancholy hindsight chorus of ‘they said it would be good for you’ over sparkling but ramshackle euphoric synths, before succumbing to its more subdued and sorrowful verses. It’s that fine line between happiness and sadness that all good psychedelia blurs ever so colourfully. Something that’s further explored on ‘Open Your Eyes’, but in such a more muted manner, embracing a kind of wistful introspection through delicate atmospheric synths, with the occasional fizzle and pop of energy, and a constant hip hop influenced beat. It’s kind of akin to trying hard to remember a dream, but only occasional stumbling upon a snapshot memory of it.
‘The Dreamers’ only delves deeper into that dream like state, obviously, and opens itself up further still to the underlying melancholy throughout the album. This time the trio strip things back to a more minimalist lo-fi arrangement, leaving the drums do a lot of the work with the cymbal splashes being the most constant sound over the course of the song, with the synths and guitars being more sporadically present, sprinkled occasionally before building together for crescendo. Gold Celeste take the more minimal approach on other tracks too, like ‘Grand New Spin’ its folk meets 70s singer-songwriter style, or interlude tracks ‘But a Poem’ and ‘Pastures’ with their dream folk simplicity or quiet trip hop jazz respectively.
There are some more upbeat numbers though, such as the mellow, summer-of-love, pop of ‘Time of Your Life’ and the kaleidoscopic (somehow Hawaiian) ballad meets lullaby of ‘You and I’, or more especially surreal songs like the rhythmic chime of, perhaps the most texturally interesting track on the album, ‘Is This What You Could Not Do?’. It’s a mixed bag of sunshine treats and summer heartache, but it is in danger of being just a little too samey all in all; there is a rigidly adhered to sound palette throughout the album.
However, the vocal harmonies are pretty enough, the vibes dreamy and sunny enough, the nostalgic call backs sincere enough, and the familiar amalgamation of pychedelia, pop, shoegaze, lo-fi, folk, and soul pleasing enough, that it’s hard to dislike this album. At most you may feel a little underwhelmed by it, and prefer to stick to your Beach House, Flaming Lips, and 60s compilation CDs, but more likely than not you’ll ‘pause for a while, relax in whatever manner [you] see fit, focus and simply indulge.’
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