Clubfeet

Gold on Gold

(Plant Music)

Record Review by Patricio Maya

Catwalks, promiscuous after-parties, blow binges and heart break--that's what Clubfeet's debut album, Gold on Gold, brings to mind. Everything about this Australian band, from their album cover (an airplane landing around a beach resort) to their do-it-yourself-meets-avant-garde videos, points in the same direction: indie dance with trash couture sensibilities. And yes, I'm talking about music here. Well, for the most part. 

Clubfeet's image is willfully superficial. For a while I even convinced myself that it was only the hot models in their videos I was into. But the truth is Sebastian Cohem, Yves Roberts, and Monty Cooper strike an unlikely musical balance between electronic dance and indie rock. In fact, I still can't decide which songs I like better, the dance-oriented ones or the guitar-driven ones. The same thing happens to me with the most fundamental of post-punk darkwave bands, Joy Division. 

Though I should clarify things before the bad-mouthing starts: of course Clubfeet is no Joy Division. They don't even come close (and probably wouldn't even want to because they are too self-mocking to do goth). There's a strong band behind the fashion lights and catwalk confetti, that's all I'm saying. 

Clubfeet's 12-song Gold on Gold is unapologetically fun. It has four or five excellent songs and not a single bad one. Sure, there are weaker tracks. In fact, let's get them out of the way. "Fall Up from Here,"  "6 Days" and "Pull it Together" do not automatically propel you the dance floor nor do they display a strong sense of irony like the band's best songs do. In general, Clubfeet produces a cohesive sound that is both straightforward and catchy. But in "Pull it Together," for instance, that sparse sound gets too stretched out. The song is vocals-driven instead of beat-driven. And the outcome is decent, not memorable. 

On the other hand, Gold on Gold's best tracks stay in your head for days.  

"Edge of Extremes" features a catchy bass line that manages to both, drive the melody and add more body to the dance beats. The chorus is repeated without much variation in a soft, slightly high-pitched voice that does not try to overachieve. The instruments don't go for excessive rave synths or crescendo guitars. The result is an understated dance sound in the best sense of the word.  

"Teenage Suicide" sounds catchier and more original than most stuff out there. Maybe it hasn't made it to the radio yet because it could have dangerous effects on listeners. Personally, it influenced me to spend $300 on highlights at a Beverly Hills hair salon (and I'm straight!). The video for this song features a shirtless teenager doing and overdoing his longish hair with a blowdryer. The teenager is shown in black and white, but the background changes colors, giving it an arty, Warholian touch. All the while you hear the chorus: "Teenage suicide, don't do it! Teenage suicide, don't do it!"  And you for a second believe that the Clubfeet guys do not want the kid to commit suicide. But then you listen to the way they enunciate their words and start to doubt yourself. An attempt; they at least want a suicide attempt. More stuff to write about, you know? 

The first 40 seconds of "Count Your Lovers" sound so high couture --female whispering in sexy French included-- that I have trouble picturing it being played anywhere else but at a Paris catwalk. "All my friends are kissing each other," the chorus goes, "they are [or have] restless lovers." The song aims straight for the dance floor, but not in a let's-get-wasted-and-shake-our-asses kind of way, but in a let's-do-a-little-coke-and-pretend-we're-Edie-Sedgwick kind of way. The song's video looks hip and cheap with hints of video art and, of course, features a fashion model. 

Gold on Gold reeks of the most blatant superficiality everywhere, but to be frank I find such consistency in tone quite refreshing. It seems like they want to be beautiful, party, shop in Dubai, indulge in five martini lunches, sleep with the hottest person around, take pills and even toy around with the idea of a rock and roll suicide. Yet Clubfeet's music never falls prey to vulgarity like, um, tune in to any top-40 radio station. Their sparse catchy beats, tasteful vocals, and ironic delivery have a lot to do with it.