Scott Pinkmountain & The Golden Bolts of Tone

The Full Sun

(Howells Transmitter)

Record Review by Alex Pudlin

As Scott Pinkmountain & The Golden Bolts of Tone’s debut album The Full Sun begins, it sounds like nothing more than another pleasant singer/songwriter with a clever “band” name. But what starts as just a piano and vocal number soon blooms into quite a lovely beast. Strings, regal horns, cavalry drums and bagpipes give you the first hint that Pinkmountain is more than just a sensitive bard. In case you didn’t get the memo, though, Pinkmountain wallops your ears with the force of “I Shall Not Be Released.” A Charles Mingus inspired horn-line blends with some snazzy jazz-rock guitar as Pinkmountain croons “you wear your crown of thorns wrapped up around your horns.” It’s a pretty bold statement both musically and lyrically that only gets more intense as the track segues into the free-jazz freakout of “Solar Flare.”

And the fun don’t stop there. “Lucy” has the gall to open with a drum solo, but it’s the King Crimson-esque guitar and funky keyboard riffs that pull you in. Pinkmountain’s lyrics meander a bit, but the track is devilishly alive. After some more noisy drum and guitar bursts (“Supernova"), “Abyssinia” hits the speakers as if the two minutes preceding it didn’t just sound like a flock of sheep being slaughtered. Over acoustic guitar strums and an upright bass line, Pinkmountain sings like Neil Young if his voice were an octave lower. Slide guitar and backing “oohs” blend with strings and piano to create quite the gorgeous album centerpiece. Despite its 10 minute length, “Abyssinia” never feels bloated, thanks to Pinkmountain and his Golden Bolts’ ample use of space.

The same can’t be said about the very next track, however. At 14 minutes, “Unforgiven” gets dull quickly. It’s as if Pinkmountain had two potential epic songs to choose from (“Abyssinia” and “Unforgiven”) and chose them both. “Unforgiven” isn’t a complete failure. The build of sounds works well and the piano part is divine. But the repetitive, melodramatic lyrics sink the song before even half of its 14 minutes have elapsed.

The remainder of The Full Sun varies in intensity, but for the most part continues to thrill. “Angel of Death” washes over you with church organs and a solemn melody mixed with dynamic and lyrical intensity, while album closer “To Love is to Die” initially sounds like the album will end as straightforwardly as it began.  But if The Full Sun taught us anything, it’s to expect the unexpected. Sure enough, the instruments soon swirl to crescendos, only to fade and leave behind a barbershop quartet serenading us over acoustic strums. No, this is definitely not James Blunt.