Release Date: April 12, 2011
Sean Penn’s immortal stoner dude Jeff Spicoli is an oil well of quotes, but the one worth mentioning here is his grand finale. It happens near the end of Fast Times at Ridgemont High, when convenience store clerk Brad Hamilton, played by Judge Reinhold, urges him to get a job because pocket change and lint isn’t sufficient currency. “Nah,” Spicoli dismisses with a laugh, “ll I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz, and I’m fine.” He draws out that last word, almost as a challenge to anyone who thinks there’s more to life than that.
Singer Lincoln Ballif exercises a similar drawl in Dirty Gold’s Roar, an EP about feeling the simple pleasures are the only pleasures. Song titles like “California Sunrise” and “The Quiet Life” say it all—turn off the BlackBerry, it’s time to chill. And don’t you dare interrupt his buzz. When it comes to Ballif’s vocals, every line is a nasal sigh, as if he can barely be bothered to tell you all this (and you shouldn’t be asking, anyway). Ballif along with guitarist/brother John and drummer Grant Nassif make music that may initially elicit recoils from sunburned indie fans.
Chillwave may be wearing out the last threads of its welcome, but the music on Roar, like the stark album cover, doesn’t come across as instantly dated.
The artwork may look like the Technicolor version of U2’s No Line on the Horizon, but a better comparison is Best Coast. The lush sound is a nonchalant counterpoint to that group’s bubbly boy-craziness; Roar is still shore-ready, but it’s relaxing by the ocean instead of waiting by the phone.
The first sounds of Roar are the whimsical bink-bink of Nassif’s tropical drums in “North.” You’d think a release called Roar with a black man staring stoically off into the distance would set itself up as some militant snapshot of war-torn Africa. An Afro-pop influence lingers, but Roar is far from a U.N. filibuster.
“California Sunrise,” with its fluttering keyboards and scratchy, reverbed vocals, could almost pass for Vampire Weekend, but those peppy shirt-tuckers are never this languid (although that collective “hey!” midway through sounds like a royalty check waiting to happen). “Trying to decide are you really worth my time/I’ve been playing this game so long,” he mews, only to backpedal, asking “how am I gonna prove myself to you?” It’s these warring instincts that suggest there’s more to Dirty Gold than Coronas and Crocs.
There’s a good bit of woozy hallucinogenic babble fleshing out the lyrics (“The chorus gathers ‘round before us/And starts to sing a hymn of silence”), and the sun-kissed blur is almost too much to take—a whole album of this wouldn’t be practical (ever spend eight hours at the beach?). When Ballif sings, “California sunrise, come and wake me up,” he sounds like he’s in need of a booster.
Balliff does sneak nuggets of neurosis into the songs: “Change your ways before the tide takes you away/Change your ways before you die.” It’s a temporary darkness, like a fast moving cloud, washed away by either sunnier lyrics or the endless vacation the music conjures. The next line, “Change your ways before my love fades away,” sounds like an empty threat next to the carefree vibes the instrumentalists put forth.
Roar‘s brief format is a smart idea in 2011. Heavyweights like Radiohead and The Flaming Lips have recently talked up the idea of releasing music outside the traditional album format, whether as an EP, single, or a flippin’ gummy skull. For the fragmented way we now receive our music, the idea of an album seems quaint.
But if a Dirty Gold EP isn’t a savvy move per se, it’s at least a practical one at this point: Ballif seems like he doesn’t have enough to say to fill these five songs, let alone a whole album (or he just doesn’t want to share).
The druggy sparkle and dreamy organ of “Overboard” hint at a more dynamic sound. “Don’t you think it’s about time,” he starts, and before he can finish, you want to nod in agreement (or nod off). “I’m coming home,” he sings, stretching out the last word Spicoli-style like it can prolong the magic of a day off before the EP ends with a solemn pitter-patter drum march back to work week reality.
Roar sounds like the calm before another April storm, and the anxiety buried in the sand could be an indication of Dirty Gold’s next trip after some home time between tours. The guys sound ready for a change of scenery. Will a cool buzz come back, or will it be a more sobering sojourn? Stick around—it’ll be worth it.
Dirty Gold – Roar
- “North”
- “California Sunrise”
- “Sea Hare”
- “The Quiet Life”
- “Overboard”
