Readers who have picked up one too many straight easy listening reissues on the promise of a sticker applied to the shrinkwrap will know that yes, it was The Goldebriars who gave Curt Boettcher his very first chance to flex a Brian Wilsonish talent for arrangements and proto-weird sunshine pop. Both of these folk albums date back to 1964, and, as such, contain a high proportion of material more suited to the arse-clenching environment of the Andy Williams TV show than any kind of beatnik freakout. On these records The Goldebriars are so light they make The Association sound like Bolt Thrower.
Whole swathes of these albums are cutesy, mock- Caribbean and pseudo-Christian beyond redemption. Highly selective highlights are lushly rewarding, if you’re happy to programme your CD-player and adopt the casual knitwear and scat-happy mindset of a prematurely middle-aged San Franciscan all those years ago.
Post-millenial or groovy this ain’t. Psychotically pleasant it most assuredly is, however, and the original 12-track LPs come with a generous 12 and 10 bonus tracks each.
